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“...Yuuji.
“You're a strong kid, so…help others.
“Even if it's only those closest to you, just save the people you can. It's okay if you lose your way, and don't worry about whether they'll thank you or not. Just save as many people as you can, even if it's only one.”
Even if it's only one.
That's what Yuuji told himself, that day in the Chaldea Institute. In that dark room, with a young girl dying in front of him. There was no other choice. She'd only wanted someone to hold her hand. How could he leave her? How could he let her die alone?
Yeah. There wasn't another choice.
At least, not one that he could live with.
And right now, it's the same thing. The illusion of choice, because he can't choose any different. That's just who he is. That's just…the kind of Master he decided to be.
It's hopeless. There aren't any Servants around to save them. It's just him and Fushigurou. Just them and that curse.
Just them and that cursed object.
I won't let you die, Yuuji thinks, and swallows the finger whole.
His last thought, as his consciousness is abruptly pulled under, is: Oh man, that thing is nasty–
A new light dawns.
Sensations become tangible. Cloth on his skin. Wind on his face. Sounds filtering in where they once were absent.
Hands…claws. Power. Laughter rising up from his chest and into his throat. A dark blue sky spreading its reach across his vision.
Yes. Yes. This is what he'd wanted. This is what he'd wished for. To fight. To play out his role as god and guardian. To carve out a path for those following behind him. To eat and run and kill, to slay things that otherwise would never die, to cut away unworthy worlds, to survive impossible odds and crush enemies with the strength to destroy all of mankind several times over. To struggle! To protect! To live!
…And to do it all with Itadori Yuuji at his side.
Ahhh…to think a Holy Grail could provide something he couldn't obtain himself. But what he'd gotten hadn't been enough. How could he sit back and accept the end of it? What other Master would be willing to stand against the kinds of challenges they'd faced? He's battled deities and god-eaters. He's lain on the brink of death. He's encountered monstrosities capable of driving men to madness. He's made divinity bleed.
He hadn't hated the life he'd held when he was alive– had enjoyed it, even, limited though it was. And it was limited. Small. Confined to a place and people that lived simply, desired simply, and died simply. He wasn't trapped in it. It was what he'd chosen, after all. But this…this life after death. This freedom. He won't let it end just yet. He's willing to make use of as many Holy Grails as it takes to get what he wants.
And what he wants is his defiant, stubborn, impossible brat of a Master.
He finally turns his attention to the presence behind him. A curse user– a sorcerer. One whose entire being is focused on Sukuna. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a face that bears just enough nobility to indicate a place in one of the great Clans, despite his trembling. And young. Around the age Yuuji was at the beginning of his Grand Order.
How long has it been since Sukuna last encountered a curse user? Since his very first death, surely. The closest approximation he'd gotten as a Heroic Spirit had been the likes of Ashiya Douman. A creature that used curses, certainly, but not a curse user as Sukuna had known them.
And now he's given…this whelp. A jujutsu sorcerer whose decision not to flee reveals a tragic lack of sense and self-preservation.
But of course, foolishness has long been the bane of his kind.
“You,” Sukuna says, stepping towards him. His trembling increases, though he manages to withstand the immense pressure of Sukuna's existence well enough not to fall to his knees. “Sorcerer brat. Where is he?”
“...Who?” the whelp grits out. His hands, shaking, shaking, shaking, lift upwards to form a sigil. Such bravery in the face of overwhelming might…it would almost be admirable, if it weren't so laughable.
Then again…Yuuji had done the same thing, hadn't he? Against things that even Sukuna couldn't have conquered. It's laughable until it succeeds, isn't that right? It's foolish until it becomes a threat.
However…it's not Yuuji standing before him. What Sukuna would consider a threat is far beyond the capabilities of this child, even in the terribly diminished form he's manifested in.
“The Master of Chaldea,” Sukuna says, stopping in front of the whelp. “If you've encountered him at all, you should know him by that name. It can be no coincidence that I've manifested here, with you as witness. Speak.”
“I don't know who you're talking about,” he says, audibly strained, as if the words had been pulled out from between his teeth. The increased pressure of Sukuna's proximity–so close, close enough to touch–has frozen his limbs in place. Sweat dampens his forehead.
It's a similar reaction to those Sukuna has seen from humans in the presence of a Beast. For him to be so affected by an incomplete Spirit Origin…is this his first brush with a higher power than his own?
How…quaint.
Very well. Sukuna can afford to be charitable. After all, it must be a shock to be confronted with how weak you truly are.
Sukuna opens his mouth to tell him this.
His mouth says something else.
“What are you doing with my body?”
The voice that comes out is one he knows very well. So, this is the conclusion the Holy Grail came to after accepting his wish?
“Interesting,” his mouth says in his own voice.
“Stop scaring Fushigurou,” his mouth says in Yuuji's voice, and then something happens– Sukuna's consciousness is pulled away from the body, his autonomy suppressed by the will of his own vessel.
He scared himself, Sukuna says. He doesn't struggle; if this body does indeed belong to his Master, then there's no need. He's found what he was looking for. By all accounts, it was quite literally beneath his own nose.
“He's hurt,” Yuuji says disapprovingly, as if Sukuna were the cause of the sorcerer child's injuries.
I see, Sukuna says, musing, you would have preferred it if I'd put him out of his misery rather than asking questions. Understood.
“Not understood!” Yuuji says, voice louder than before. “Seriously not understood!”
Oh? If you say so. What a capricious Master.
Yuuji groans, but instead of retorting, he turns to the whelp. His voice is apologetic, despite the fact that there's nothing to apologize for. “Hey, sorry about that–”
“Itadori Yuuji…” The whelp's voice cuts him off, quiet and grim, face pale, mouth pressed into a thin line. His raised hands, breaking the sigil to form into fists. “Stay where you are. You're no longer human. Under the regulations of jujutsu law…”–his cursed energy spikes–”...I will now exorcize you as a curse.”
Yuuji throws his hands up in defense, protesting, “Whoa! I get that what just happened was probably pretty alarming, but that's over now! We should be getting you to a hospital!”
His concern, disarming as it is, causes the whelp to hesitate.
In that split-second of hesitation, without a single hint of warning, a fourth presence appears.
“What's the situation?” a casual, unworried voice asks, and the first impression that encapsulates all others is–
Strong. Palpably strong, with a cursed energy that feels like a living bomb in the midst of explosion. A star caught in the stages of supernova.
Master, let me fight him, Sukuna says, almost before he knows he's saying it. Yuuji, distracted by the sudden arrival, doesn't respond. No matter. Whether it's now or some other time, he will fight.
The whelp reacts with surprise and recognition. “Wha– Gojo-sensei? What are you doing here?”
“Yo,” ‘Gojo-sensei’ greets blithely. “I wasn't planning on showing up at first, but the higher-ups got involved after hearing that a special-grade cursed object went missing. I agreed to come as long as I'd have time to see the sights. Looks like you're pretty messed up, so it's a good thing I did. Anyway…” He leans over. “...did you find it?”
The whelp doesn't speak, expression uneasy.
Yuuji does it for him. “Uh…you're talking about that weird finger, right? I ate it. Sorry.”
Gojo-sensei just looks at him for a minute. Then, “For real?”
“For real,” the whelp confirms, sounding more resigned than anything else.
“Sorry,” Yuuji adds, again, and Sukuna can feel the chagrin radiating off of him.
Stop apologizing, brat, he says. If you were so hungry you ate a cursed object, then they should've traded you for real food instead. It's their fault for letting you starve.
Yuuji's face gets hot. “Th-that's not what happened! You think I'd eat something like that just because I got hungry?!”
Gojo-sensei, having teleported in front of Yuuji, pauses in the middle of peering down at him. “What?”
“It wasn't because I was hungry,” Yuuji tries to reassure the man. “It was an emergency.”
Cursed objects still don't count as emergency rations, Sukuna points out. Quite reasonably, he thinks.
“I just said it wasn't because I was hungry!”
“You can hear Sukuna?” Gojo-sensei asks.
Sukuna feels Yuuji blink. “Yeah. Wait, how d'you know his na–?”
“So you really are suppressing him,” Gojo-sensei muses. “Interesting.” He tosses the bag he was holding at the whelp behind him. “Alright, here's the deal. If you think you can, I want you to let him out for ten seconds and then take back control. You up for it?”
“Oh, you wanna talk to him?” Yuuji says. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Gojo-sensei smiles. “Good kid.”
Sukuna feels Yuuji close his eyes, and then he's pulled forward once more, autonomy returned to him as easily as it was taken away.
He opens his eyes. Flexes his fingers. Smiles with all his teeth. “I've fought gods, you know. And you…well, you come nowhere close, of course…but you seem like you might provide at least a small margin of entertainment. Much like a court jester performing for a king.”
Gojo-sensei's still smiling. “A king, huh? For the King of Curses, you're rather chatty. Is His Majesty scared of a fragile human jester?”
How predictable. A man like that thinks he's funny.
“Already so adept at playing your role,” Sukuna says, mocking. He settles into a battle stance and raises a hand, crooking two clawed fingers. “Come. I'll enjoy showing you just how fragile you truly are.”
The man disappears, too fast to track, and Sukuna only registers his presence once he grabs the raised arm, yanking it down–this damned Spirit Origin–and throwing a blow at Sukuna's face just as he's turning his head–
–and Sukuna's already twisting out of his hold, sweeping Gojo's feet out from under him–
–except he's not there anymore.
Gojo's fist stops a centimeter from Yuuji's cheek. “Hey, you're back. Good timing.”
I could've taken him, Sukuna says, irritated at having his battle cut short.
Gojo drops both arms and takes a step back. “Color me surprised! So you really can control him.”
“I don't know if I'd say control,” Yuuji says, obviously thinking of the many, many Servants–Sukuna included–who delighted in leaving chaos in their wake. “Distract, maybe. Or regulate.”
“Good enough for me,” Gojo says, and lifts two fingers to Yuuji's forehead, a single tap yanking him into unconsciousness.
Sukuna catches him– his ‘mind', or the thread guiding his awareness, before it can escape his reach. He pulls Yuuji deeper inside himself, into the Domain within.
Yuuji falls gracelessly into the blood river, yelling and coughing as he staggers upright.
“How reassuring it is to see my Master unchanged by time,” Sukuna says, lounging back on the top step leading up towards the omote-sandou.
Yuuji spits out the blood in his mouth, making a face. “It's only been two weeks.” He starts sloshing through the river. He adds, “Maybe less, actually.”
“Oh?” Sukuna raises an eyebrow. “And yet, how long it is for a Master to be without their Servant. I would have thought you'd be grateful to have me at your beck and call once more.”
Yuuji pauses, ripples drifting out around him. “I…” He looks up. “Yeah,” he says, suddenly quiet. “I am. You've been around almost constantly for the last four years, and…I missed it when you were gone. The others, too. Even Ellie's idol performances and Jeanne Alter's crazy deadlines. I really thought I'd never see any of you again.”
Sukuna considers his brat's words. “Hmm. So you reached a new level of desperation.”
Yuuji rolls his eyes, broken from his melancholy. “Don't start.” He places his hands on his hips like Emiya does when he's scolding another Servant. “If you're here, that means you missed me too. What did you do, anyway? Make another Pseudo-Singularity?”
“Of course not,” Sukuna says dismissively. “This world already existed even before the Incineration of Humanity. The only thing I made was a wish.”
Yuuji's brow furrows, hands falling back to his sides. “A wish…then, if you used a Holy Grail…what did you wish for?”
A corner of Sukuna's mouth ticks up. “Isn't it obvious? Can you not hazard a guess?”
Yuuji's deepening frown scrunches up his nose. “Was it…to have me as a vessel?”
Sukuna snorts. He rises to his feet and descends from the stairs until he reaches the torii, where blood meets stone. Until he stands only a foot away from Yuuji. Until he's able to say, bluntly and directly to his Master's face, “Idiot. What's the point in that? Any other fool would have realized that I wished to be with you again.”
The idiot says, “Oh.” And then, with a bright, insolent grin, “So you did miss me. You know, you could've just said that– oof–” A hand on the back of his head sends him face-first into the blood river.
He's not wrong, of course. It's just annoying to see him so convinced that he's right.