Chapter 1: Headfirst dive into Tokyo
Chapter Text
Bzzzt, bzzzt
“Moshi Moshi”
“Naga-nee?”
The legalities of a funeral and a death is enough to make her head spin, but it’s easier to focus on all of that than the sharp pang of grief left behind by the gaping hole left in her family. Sharp and sticking to her bones because she’ll never be able to call or just show up when she wants to pretend to be normal for a few hours.
Never again listen to Itadori Wasuke’s rough, grumpy demeanor telling her to get her head out of her ass or cook her dinner. Won’t come back to his scowl at the kitchen table as he complains about life and people for as long as she’ll listen.
Still easier than focusing on the faint worry in the back of her mind, the unknown, because of all the people she’d be content to leave Yuuji with, Satoru is at the bottom of that list. Especially in this kind of situation, but… He’ll figure something out, of that she has no doubt.
Gods, what a fucking mess.
“So let me get this straight”
“Oh boy, here we go.” Satoru cuts in, cheerfully inappropriate as usual.
Despite the years of living with and loving him, Satoru’s antics still trigger that violent urge within her. It’s only thanks to those same years of knowing him that allows her the patience to continue speaking, ignoring the way he’s draped over her shoulder like a limpet and near vibrating with excitement.
“You rushed into a situation you knew was dangerous and potentially deadly. You messed with something I remember specifically telling you to leave alone. Am I correct so far?”
Yuuji winces and pouts, but she’s too annoyed and terrified by the recent events to be cowed by his big brown puppy eyes. The new under eye marks help remind her of the situation and curdle her stomach.
“Yes…” He sighs after a beat of her stone-cold indifference.
“Right, good.” She continues, “then, after being told to leave by someone who knew more about the dangers than yourself, you still decided to rush straight in.”
“I couldn’t sit and do nothing! I had to help, Ji-san- “
“Definitely did not tell you to go get yourself killed!” She barks out, heart pounding steadily against her chest.
“I wanted to help, and I did! Fushiguro-“
“Fushiguro knew the full extent of what he was getting into. I won’t deny that it could have been worse, but it also could have been worse even if you did what you had.”
“It worked out in the end! And now I can help save people, just like you saved me and Ji-san, just like how Ji-san wanted! If I can protect people and ensure they have a proper death, then I don’t mind being a vessel or whatever, or executed! That would be a-“
Fuck, she can’t listen to this. To the martyrdom of one of her precious people. She steps away swiftly, dislodging Satoru from her shoulder with an aggravated huff. Drags her hands down her face to scrub roughly at her skin as if it will dispel the situation from reality, screw her head on right or something.
But it doesn’t.
The situation remains unchanged.
Her little brother, Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel. The King of fucking Curses.
Slated for execution by Satoru’s hands.
“…that would be a proper death.” Yuuji finishes. His voice is soft but clear. Firm in his stance.
Her shoulders droop against her will, feeling exhausted and heavy.
Satoru, wisely for once, remains quiet but his attention is a physical feeling on the back of her neck. Hot and dry like his palm. Grounding.
When she finally turns back to the other two, she takes a moment to really look at Yuuji. Hale, whole, healthy, with his shoulders squared and jaw clenched. He doesn’t look scared or sad, only determined. His eyes hold her own easily, and despite it all she’s so fucking proud of him.
It’s easy for her to forget that he’s older than she was when she threw herself into this world with both eyes closed.
And while becoming the vessel for the King of Curses himself is, perhaps, not what she had in mind for his future, at least he’ll be in good hands.
They made sure of that.
“Tch, fine.” She concedes, more for show than anything else.
Her judgement matters little when it’s all said and done. The elders already know, Satoru has already made his case to them, and Yuuji officially knows too much to go back.
She ignores the way Yuuji’s eyes sparkle in pleasure at her concession, and follows behind as both he and Satoru leave, chattering easily and brightly together like they’ve known each other for years.
There’s a knot in her stomach, ice in her veins and her heartbeat feels louder than her heels clicking against the tiled floors.
So many regrets brought to the surface.
In the days between the ill-fated mission to Sendai and now, he’s had little time to adjust to no longer being the only first year student in the dorms. Itadori came flying into his life with the grace of a wrecking ball and twice as distracting.
Before, he only had to deal with Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei flitting about, since the second years were busy with their own missions and training.
With Itadori’s arrival also comes what Megumi likes to deem ‘Gojo’s Mother-henning.’ It’s not nearly as subtle as Geto-sensei, but just as effective.
He knows, because he grew up with them both, and despite the fact that he refuses to refer to them as any variation of ‘dad,’ he’s very aware of their personalities.
If it was just Itadori’s arrival, Megumi may have been able to hide away in his dorm between classes, reading and studying. But no, because he got injured enough to land him in Ieiri-oba’s office for a while, Gojo-sensei has been unbearable.
If it’s not Itadori banging on his door to hang out or explain something, then it’s Gojo barging straight in with no regards for manners or reasonable times for visiting. If not that, then it’s them giggling together in the halls, loudly and obnoxiously, texting him at all hours and calling him over and over again.
It’s gotten to the point where he’s drafted up several texts to his mum, each increasingly desperate.
None have been sent, but it’s the thought that counts.
He doesn’t even bother contemplating telling Geto-Sensei, who’s just as likely to join Gojo in his antics and obnoxious hovering. As it is, he’s received plenty of texts from the darker haired sorcerer, dripping in thinly veiled teasing and concern.
Menaces, the both of them.
He can’t believe he survived living with them. (He wouldn’t have it any other way.)
He’s known about the monsters since he was four, in some way. Ji-san and Naga-nee mostly talked around the subject when he was around, but he remembers it… sort of. What he didn’t know was that his Nee-san was some secret vigilante against weird shit that goes bump in the night.
He didn’t say he remembers that night well.
And now he’s in this weird underground world too, like straight out of one of his shonen mangas. Part of him is actually really excited, the other part is… well kind of terrified.
Fushiguro is great, and Kugisaki is okay when she’s not being grumpy, but he could do without the constant scathing commentary from his new brain-mate. Roommate…. Brain… sharer?
Anyways, it’s an adjustment.
He’s way behind Fushiguro on schoolwork, but at least he fits in with the general needs of the school. He’s always been above average at sports and physical activities so that helps a lot.
‘You’re fucking hopeless, brat.’
Yeah, he could do without that bit.
He ignores the curse in his head, each day it’s getting easier and easier to do.
He has yet to meet the other teacher, Geto-sensei, but Gojo-sensei had pulled him aside after the dust settled to explain some things. Mainly, the elephant in the room of ‘hey we know of each other, but we don’t know each other, let’s keep that quiet.’
Which, fair.
He knows from Naga-nee’s explanations and stories that Gojo-sensei is some huge hotshot in the Jujutsu world that he’s apart of suddenly, and that him, Geto-sensei and Naga-nee are together in some ambiguous way she never explained.
But he has a lot to learn and very little time to do so, so he pushes the strange intricacies of how everyone fits together and Sukuna’s growls to the back of his mind and gets to work.
It takes a couple of weeks to adjust to Itadori and Kugisaki joining him as fellow first years. They go to classes taught by Gojo, because Geto has been out on a mission to the very outskirts of northern Japan for a while, combing through the sparsely populated villages for unique curses to add to his repertoire.
Mum, despite the pleading and begging from both Gojo and Geto, is not a full-time teacher like the other two, so she continues as she was before. He misses her, but her duty to take missions and kill curses takes precedence over familial bonds.
Kugisaki is loud and opinionated, but she keeps up well academically and in sports. She’s not some wilting, swooning teenage girl he’s used to from junior high.
She has strong opinions on birth location and spends entirely too much time on her phone or shopping for his tastes, but she’s bearable.
Itadori is….
Well…
He’s an idiot.
He’s struggling in their classes, though he knows some things about Jujutsu and curses that a normal non-sorcerer would have no idea about. Megumi attributes that to this mysterious Nee-san Itadori mentions in most of his anecdotes.
He is, also, an absolute fucking monster when it comes to anything physical. Any sport, activity, mission, and Itadori is off like a shot and engaging before Megumi can even consider summoning his divine dogs. He leaves both Megumi and Kugisaki in the dust during sports after classes.
Megumi is too busy being surprised and annoyed to be jealous about it. Can’t even be mad because the guy is so genuinely good that it makes his teeth ache.
Bright smiles and thoughtfulness, even when he lets his mouth run and ends up insulting Kugisaki by accident or going off about the damned wormo man movies.
But it’s nice, he guesses, being around them with Gojo flitting around. It reminds him of the chaos at home, safe but no boring moments in sight.
It’s missing Mum and Tsumiki-nee, but he texts them more often than anyone else, and they both spare enough time to respond when they can.
Now if only Geto and Gojo stopped trying to use fighting as foreplay in front of him and the others, but… that’d be asking for a miracle.
It’s not even a hardship to let himself be dragged around by Kugisaki and Itadori at this point, despite his scowling complaints. He’ll never admit it, but it is nice to be included every once in a while.
If he squints hard enough, he can just catch the parallels between the current students and his own time as a student. It’s disconcerting and strange, but nice in a way to know that they have the potential to become similar to himself and his peers.
The whole point, the entire reason he became a teacher rather than just continuing on as he was, was to lift up young sorcerers. So that there are more people like him who can take on the world and hold it, so what happened to them doesn’t happen to the future sorcerers.
In Kugisaki, he sees Nagako and Shoko, not only because she’s a girl but also in her personality. Strong willed and unwilling to take shit, feminine but strong and sure of herself. She doesn’t have Shoko’s general disinterest, feigned or otherwise, nor is she as calm as Nagako, but there are hints.
She could go either way, honestly.
Or maybe he’s reading too far into it, she’ll probably be her own person, wildly different from two of the most important women in his life.
Megumi, he knows infinitely better than the others, if only because he helped raise the kid. Considers him his own child, even if they’re not blood related. The potential in him is astounding, and Satoru hopes he gets to see it. The perfect mixture of all three of his pseudo parents, with his own sulky little twist.
Strong morals, a good understanding that nothing is ever black and white. Mild and polite like Suguru with a killer death glare that he perfected at Nagako’s hip.
Menace.
Itadori reminds him of himself, and Yuu. Loud and cheerful, unapologetic in his emotions and the space he takes up in the world. But he’s good at the core. He wants to help, and he can, so he does. Satoru knows who the boy is to Nagako, as does Suguru, though they’ve promised to keep it quiet and not bring attention to it.
He also sees the parallels between Itadori and Suguru as he was as a teenager. Young and bright eyed, looking for the best in people, wanting to protect non-sorcerers at any cost. Even taking in curses if only to make sure there’s one less danger in the world.
That thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth that even his favorite snacks can’t mask, so he shoves it down to the part of himself that wants to rend the world to ash.
There’s potential, because as every day passes since he became Sukuna’s vessel, his soul adapts to the cursed energy. To holding and creating it.
One day.
Chapter 2: On a bad bet
Summary:
He’d like to say he did really well, and maybe in some ways he did, considering he thinks he lasted longer than Kugisaki and Fushiguro combined, but he still ends up with bruises on his bruises and dirt stains on the back of his hoodie from being bodily tossed into the ground. Geto-Sensei is a nightmare, coiled control and sharp focus. Every action is weighed in a fraction of a second and he uses his body as a weapon.
Notes:
Hello again!
I really wanted to hold out and now just dump everything I have online but as y'all probably realize by now, I can't.
Itadori is kinda hard to write but I love him too much to skip his PoV.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Itadori! Slow down!” Fushiguro’s voice calls out from behind, but he can’t, won’t.
He’s found there are few good things about his situation besides the company. Being the host of a millennia’s worth of humans’ worst emotions, the deepest, darkest, most horrendous feelings balled into one being comes with its own issues.
However, despite the constant mocking drawl and cruel laughter in the back of his head, there are some upsides. One of those things is that while everyone around him might flag (except Gojo-sensei,) he won’t.
He just watched Fushiguro take a solid hit from the curse, shaped like a traffic light of all things, before it scurried off to cause more mayhem somewhere else. And while he is concerned (overly so, but the only one who knows about that is himself and unfortunately, Sukuna) it’s not enough to take away from their job.
The curse has got to go.
So, yeah, even if Fushiguro is yelling at him to wait he’s not going to wait. He shoots off after the curse, legs hitting the ground evenly and closing the distance as the green lights bounce along the high walls of the shopping center.
He rounds a corner with the sight of Fushiguro’s bloodied face in his mind’s eye and Sukuna’s rabid cackle ringing in his ears only to come face first with the curse in question. From there, it’s all instinct.
He knows he doesn’t have any cursed energy of his own, but he can pack a punch and with his stamina, he can keep it busy until Kugisaki or Fushiguro catch up. Each connection of his fist against the pseudo metal of the curse’s body sends his arm tingling, but ever since he jumped into this, he felt like it was natural.
It’s good, he feels useful.
The curse’s light turns red, and he’s caught, stuck still and unable to move.
But the curse can’t move either.
Which apparently is the perfect scenario, because a metallic clang rings out, and then a nail cloaked in cursed energy wizzes straight through the body of the curse.
And just like that, he can move again, all in the blink of an eye.
Kugisaki hops down from the awning of a nearby shop, lips pulled up into a self-satisfied smirk.
“How was that, weather boy?” She snarks, and they both stand over the corpse of the monster as it disintegrates into tiny black particles.
“Thanks for the save, Kugisaki.” He breathes, grateful and hopped up on adrenaline.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the best. C’mon, Gojo-sensei promised us dinner.” She waves him off.
And then he remembers.
“Oh shit, Fushiguro!”
As the dust properly settles on the day, Kugisaki storms off grumbling about a missed dinner and Itadori finds himself sitting in an empty infirmary cot while Ieiri-san patches up Fushiguro with steady hands and tired eyes.
He doesn’t want to leave, cause it’s dark out now and the infirmary reminds him a bit too much of the hospital Ji-san was staying at before he-
So, he doesn’t want to leave Fushiguro there alone either. He hasn’t spoken much to the other boy, in general and today, and he wouldn’t even really consider them friends either.
But he wants to be.
He wants to be Fushiguro’s friend.
And Kugisaki’s.
“-it dry, and come see me later.”
“Yeah, will do, thanks Oba-san. C’mon, idiot.” Fushiguro’s words break him out of his thoughts, and he whirls to find the other boy folding his jacket over his arm, freshly bandaged and ready to leave. He hops up, hoping he doesn’t come off too eager but resigned to the fact that he probably does, and follows the darker-haired sorcerer out with a distracted wave to Ieiri-san.
He only hopes that he manages to memorize the layout of the school before Fushiguro inevitably gets sick of Yuuji following him around like some sad lost puppy.
He tails the taller boy through the winding hallways all the way back to their dorm rooms in relative silence, content for the moment to simply be.
As they reach the corridor that their rooms are in, which he thankfully recognizes, Fushiguro stops outside of his door, facing away with his shoulders squared.
“Oi, Itadori.”
“Yeah?”
“Next time, just…. Wait for me, alright?”
He blinks, dumbly, watching Fushiguro’s tensed frame in front of his door. “O-okay, yeah I can do that.”
“Good.” The other boy says and then steps into his own room without any further words, or explanations, or anything.
And as he lays in bed that night, with only a poster of Jennifer Lawrence to keep him company and the knowledge that Fushiguro is just on the other side of the wall, he goes over it all in his head.
With the added taunting of Sukuna commenting on each aspect.
To be completely fair, he had no expectations when meeting Geto Suguru for the first time. Gojo-sensei spoke about him often and excessively, and even Fushiguro mentioned him a few times but more in off-handed ways that didn’t say all that much about the man in question.
Any time Naga-nee mentioned him in the past, it was with fond annoyance, ‘Suguru wanted me to check in,’ or ‘I have to tell Suguru I’ll be staying for a while longer. He gets antsy when I go radio silent.’
Nothing major from Gojo-sensei, nothing explicitly telling about the man’s character or appearance, just ‘Suguru loves this,’ or ‘Suguru’s gonna be sooooo jealous,’ or ‘I need to pick up some souvenirs for Suguru!’
He’s gotten pretty well acclimated with Gojo-sensei’s eccentricities and can easily pick him out in a crowd. Tall, lean, dressed in the standard Jujutsu Sorcerer uniform with a blindfold made of the same fabric, white hair defying gravity upon his head.
If he was poetic, or good at grammar and enjoyed reading anything beyond Manga, he’d have some flowery words about how Gojo-sensei reminded him of the moon or something weird like that.
Geto-sensei… is, well…
First of all, he’s big. Just as tall as Gojo-sensei but wider even under the similar uniform. He has black hair like Fushiguro, and it’s long. Most of it falls until just under his shoulder blades, while the rest is pulled up and back into a bun, with a piece of his bangs falling out to frame his face. He’s slightly tanner than Gojo-sensei, with foxlike eyes that make you feel like prey when he looks for too long, and everything he says feels vaguely like an insult.
Their first meeting goes a little like this.
Gojo-sensei introduces them with a flourish, even more cheerful than usual and dramatic as he sprawls against the other man’s side.
“Suguruuuu, meet Itadori-kun. Itadori, this is my best friend and fellow special grade, Geto Suguru!”
“So, this is Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel.”
“Ah, yes, Hello, nice to meet you!”
“Hmm… Likewise.”
And that was that.
The awkward, standoffish tension that may or may not be one sided lasts maybe a day or two but feels like it goes on forever.
He spends those two days uncomfortable and guilty, like he did something wrong because one of Nee-san’s people doesn’t like him. He eventually breaks down and texts her, if only to head off her finding out on her own in case he actually did something unforgivable, or broke an unspoken rule with the black-haired man.
But no.
Naga-nee sends a couple laughing emojis in response and then ‘don’t sweat it, cub, he’s just a bitch.’
Which, well, mean, but… Accurate.
By the third day, he’s resigned himself to being disliked by one of his teachers and steps out onto the field in gym clothes for hand-to-hand training with Geto-Sensei. Kugisaki goes first, and considering her cursed technique, she does well. She only lasts a few seconds to be fair, but Fushiguro warned them that Geto-sensei was very good at hand to hand.
After he puts her in the grass, Geto-sensei spends some time talking quietly with her in the field while Yuuji and Fushiguro stretch in preparation for their own turns.
Then its Fushiguro’s turn.
Fushiguro lasts longer than Kugisaki, managing to dodge a few hits and striking out himself a couple times, but he too, ends up on his back in the grass, landing harder than Kugisaki. Geto-sensei has a few words for Fushiguro, but they wrap up their spar pretty quickly.
And then Geto-sensei is motioning Yuuji out into the middle of the field with a crooked finger.
Despite the knot forming in his stomach, he rises from the ground and jogs over to the older man, ready despite the dread.
“All right, Itadori-kun, I want you to show me what you’ve got.”
He’d like to say he did really well, and maybe in some ways he did, considering he thinks he lasted longer than Kugisaki and Fushiguro combined, but he still ends up with bruises on his bruises and dirt stains on the back of his hoodie from being bodily tossed into the ground. Geto-Sensei is a nightmare, coiled control and sharp focus. Every action is weighed in a fraction of a second and he uses his body as a weapon.
Yuuji, despite being great at physical stuff, has never been trained in hand-to-hand combat.
And while he wheezes inelegantly on the ground, Geto-sensei crouches by his head.
“You did well, but you’ll have to do better than well to survive and thrive in this world. Your form is sloppy, and you waste too much energy on useless movements. We’ll work on that.”
After that, things seem to thaw slightly. He doesn’t notice any favoritism or blatant dislike, and Yuuji lets himself relax a little as Geto-sensei talks to Kugisaki in the same tone as he speaks to Fushiguro and himself.
The man seems pleased as they all take his lessons and words seriously, mimicking his movements and trading out mock sparring with each other to get the hang of the flow.
Maybe it was all in his head.
He’s not even really sure how he found himself in this situation. And he would complain, but Kugisaki managed to get Gojo-sensei’s credit card, and the food is fine. Tucked into booth in a small Sushi joint, with Kugisaki and Itadori sitting across from him, ambient chatter filling the area in a way that isn’t overwhelming.
The other two bicker senselessly, but mostly leave him to his own devices, scrolling on his phone in between bites of maki. The mission was relatively easy, and quick with no injuries which is how Kugisaki and Itadori managed to convince Gojo-sensei to leave them to peruse downtown Tokyo for an early dinner so long as they promised to return to the school at a decent time.
He’s jostled out of his mindless scrolling through social media by Itadori vaulting out of the booth like it burned him, completely ignoring Kugisaki’s hissed ‘Hey, watch it!’
Megumi finds himself leaning out of the booth to watch Itadori’s receding form before he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s not nosy, no matter what Gojo and Tsumiki-nee say.
What he sees doesn’t actually register for a few solid seconds, eyes taking in red and pink pressed together and happy chatter hitting his ears but not computing as words.
Then, his mind reboots like some ancient boxy computer and he has to fight down so many emotions at once it’s overwhelming.
Because, what the hell?
Why is Itadori of all people wrapped around his mum like an octopus? And she’s smiling?!
How the hell do they know each other?
He can feel his face, tense, and he’s probably scowling as he watches the two of them disengage to talk quietly, but the words are lost to the latent din of the restaurant and he chokes down the misplaced jealousy with a firm shake of his head. Turning back into the booth properly and shoving a whole maki in his mouth.
Pretends like he can’t see Kugisaki watching him with all the scathing judgement she’s possible of.
So caught up in his own thoughts and the writhing mass of annoyance building in his chest, he completely misses the presence at his side until an arm drapes over his shoulders. He flinches at the feeling, not expecting anyone to invade his space, but the alarm is drowned out at quickly as it comes by the head knocking against his own and a strand of red hair falling into his eyes.
“Hey, wait, how do you guys know each other?!” Itadori exclaims as he drops into the seat he vacated next to Kugisaki, who watches the proceedings like it’s the best gossip she’s heard in years.
His face heats under the scrutiny and affection, embarrassed and pleased but mostly embarrassed.
“Oh yeah, you guys didn’t meet before and I’m sure Megumi hasn’t mentioned me either. He’s private, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” His mum muses, mostly to herself as she pulls back into her own space. Her words make Itadori blink, but she continues, “I helped raise Megumi and his sister.” Simple and to the point.
Of all his parents, he is glad that she is the least embarrassing, but this situation is quickly climbing into the list of ‘things he’ll kill someone for if they mention it.’
“For real?!” Itadori exclaims, both his and Kugisaki’s jaws dropping. “Eeeeh, Fushiguro I’m so jealous!” He finishes in a whine, slumping back into the booth dramatically. Unfortunately for everyone, it only lasts a second before he perks back up, “Wait, wait, wait, that means we could have met forever ago, Fushiguro!”
“I’m all set, thanks. How do you two even know each other?” He grumbles in response, hoping to cut Itadori’s whining short.
“That’s what I wanna know.” Kugisaki adds in, eyes swiveling between himself, Itadori and Mum.
“Oh, yeah! Nee-san saved me and my Gramps ages ago from a curse, and Gramps just… adopted her, I guess?”
“You… guess?”
“To be fair, that is a relatively accurate description. Ji-san worked in… mysterious ways.” Mum adds with a slight shrug. “I’d pop off to Sendai for a visit every now and then, usually ended up baby-sitting Yuuji-bo while Ji-san was at work.”
“Wait, so that’s where you would go all the time?” Megumi grouches, slotting the new information into place.
“In my defense, Satoru and Suguru can be ‘handle in small doses only’ on occasion.”
“So, you left us with them.”
“You were infinitely less likely to snap their neck in a rage than I was… am.”
“…Fair point.”
“Wait, hold on, let me get this straight.” Kugisaki cuts in to their wondering with a pointed finger and incredulous scowl. “You all know each other, but have never met before?”
“…Yes?” “Mhm!” “Sounds about right.” They all respond.
“But…. Why?”
“You try taking a kid on a four hour train ride and let me know how that works for you.” Mum snarks.
“Ah… You really are a country bumpkin, Itadori.”
“Hey?!”
“Anyways, for the sake of it, my name is Kibe Nagako, Special Grade sorcerer. Megumi’s adopted mother and Itadori’s adopted sister, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, my name is Kugisaki Nobara.”
They finish their meal surprisingly pleasantly. And now that Yuuji’s looking, yeah he can see the similarities between Fushiguro and Nee-san. She slots in easily, making sure that everyone is included in the conversation and engaging Fushiguro enough that he slips his phone into his pocket, finally.
Despite them being not biologically related, he can see the impact of Nee-san’s role in Fushiguro’s life in the way their brows raise the same at something surprising, and the blank unimpressed look they get when Yuuji says something particularly dumb.
He is self-aware, thank you.
It feels special and important to see it, though. To note it and tuck it into the space reserved for the really good things in his life, because how exciting is it, to know that Fushiguro had Nee-san to look out for him and they all know each other.
Part of him is a little sad, because Fushiguro is effortlessly cool and he would have liked to be friends with him, especially before, but.
No use crying over spilt milk.
And as they slide into Ijichi-san’s car to begin their ride back to the school, he feels warm and content all the way down to his toes, surrounded by the people he’s come to care so much about.
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!
Chapter 3: The Shipped Blue Standard
Summary:
Satoru, at least, has the decency to look vaguely cowed and droopy once they shuffle Yuuji off to the basement to wait. She’s not even really sure what she looks like right now, sure that Satoru can’t see the specific minutia of her expression with the blindfold still on, but the energy is tense.
“So what’s your grand plan.” She says after a beat, holding her tone mild and steady.
“Ahahaha, okay so clearly, they’re after him.”
Notes:
Hello I am back with another chapter :)
And guess who's on PTO again, y'all know what that means :)))
Anyways, did we see Gege's knew lil project? I'm kind of excited, but also not as much as everyone else because (and this might be a hot take) I didn't really care about Yuuta all that much. Maki's sick as hell though, love that queen.
No warnings for this chapter beyond canon-typical angst.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ever since Yuuji became Sukuna’s vessels, the higher-ups have been trying and failing to crawl down her throat. It’s not unusual, but the frequency and the kind of missions she’s been assigned since then hasn’t allowed her to be home at all.
One after another after another, to the point where she just went straight to the next one from the hotel room. It’s her first time being back in Tokyo since everything went down, and stepping into her home after so long is like shedding her skin. Or at least what she imagines would feel like if she were a lizard.
Her musings about the intensity of lizard physical feelings are cut short by the sound of determined footsteps heading in her direction. She has a moment to blink and drop her bag on the table by the door before she’s swept up into a back cracking hug and smothered into dark hair and the swell of a pectoral.
Eucalyptus hits her nose and well, she’s had worse homecomings.
She wraps her arms around Suguru’s torso as far as they’ll reach, pressing herself against him further even as her nose protests being squished. Inhales against the soft fabric of his shirt and exhales every ounce of tension she’s carried since she left home last.
“I’m home.” She murmurs into the swell of his muscles, boneless and languid, held up by only the strength of his arms. Feels his chest expand against her as he breathes deeply.
“Welcome home.” Pressed into her hair like a secret.
They untangle, after she’s absorbed his body heat and basked in the scent and feel of him, and she slips off to shower and change with the promise of a home cooked meal waiting once she’s done.
They never ended up getting a dining room table or anything similar to it, but Suguru’s come to find there are fewer pleasures more enticing than sinking onto their well-worn couch with a hot plate of food and good company. Satoru can joke and mumble all he wants about their ‘empty nest syndrome’ but it’s nice to be home and not be alone.
Nagako is a line of solid heat against his thigh as she tucks into her meal, fresh and damp from her shower. Comfortable, home, safe.
“So,” he starts, side eyeing Nagako as they both finish scraping their bowls clean. “I met Itadori-kun.”
“I know.” She retorts, deceptively mild.
“Ah, should have known.”
“He thinks you hate him.”
He winces at her words instinctually. He may have been a little… overzealous in his approach.
Scratch the may part, he was. Satoru thought it was funny, and there is some childish pride that the younger generation are equal parts terrified and in awe of him. But at the core of it, something in him is unsettled by Itadori Yuuji.
It’s not even about Sukuna, though anyone except Satoru would be an idiot not to be wary until the boy’s control is confirmed.
It’s more how uncomfortably familiar the boy’s situation is for Suguru.
They both come from non-sorcerer backgrounds, and both ingest curses to protect others. He’s good, unfailingly good, with a moral compass that rivals his own as a teenager.
Save non-sorcerers.
And it’s uncomfortable, because Suguru knows how that route goes for people like him and Itadori, who aren’t quite gods. It’s nowhere good, and he’s not looking forward to watching from the outside. He only hopes it isn’t as debilitating for Itadori as it was for him, when the boy realizes that there is no such thing as a real hero in their world.
Thankfully, unlike himself, Itadori has his classmates and the three strongest sorcerers at his back.
“-to Sugar, hello? Anyone alive in there?” The words are accompanied by a hand waving in front of his face, and he blinks back into the present and flushes lightly at being caught so deep in though.
“Sorry, sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Yeah, apparently hard enough to cook your brain, lovely.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He snarks, waving her off with a chuckle of his own. She snorts but doesn’t respond with words, standing to take the dishes to the kitchen and leaving him alone on the couch. He slouches back into the seat, basking in the noises of someone else in the home for the first time in days.
Satoru spends less time home than before, often coming in late and leaving early, so quiet moments between them are few and far between. At least with Nagako, he knows she’ll be home for a while before they send her out again.
And it’s nice after the chaos that comes with teaching and Satoru’s fluttering presence, to have her steady and contemplative attitude as a counterpoint.
He snatches the remote from the cushions next to him, turning the tv on so he doesn’t look like he’s just sitting there waiting for her to be done. The flips through the channels until he finds something mindless, another game show, and sinks back against the couch.
The seconds tick by, and he finds himself dozing lightly, content.
He shouldn’t be surprised when he’s jolted out of the doze by Nagako’s form settling into his lap, it happens every time they end up at a horizontal surface, but he is. They haven’t been in the same place in weeks, and he got used to his own company and Satoru’s bright supernova and never-ending energy.
Her weight is easy to bear and it’s second nature to wrap himself around her and pull her closer. The comfort of the close contact, the hug as she wraps her own arms around his neck and shoulders, calves on either side of his thighs.
Warm, comfortable, safe.
“I don’t hate him.” He murmurs after a beat, feeling the need to say it out loud. To assure her that he isn’t like the higher-ups that look at the boy and see a threat.
“I know, Sugar.”
“I just… I’m worried for him, something like that, a burden like that on someone who wants to be a hero isn’t a light load. It’ll eat him alive eventually.”
“That’s where we come in, isn’t it?” She responds.
“Yeah, I know.”
“He reminds me of you, in a way.”
“I can see it, I think that’s why I’m worried.”
“We won’t let it be the same.”
“No, we won’t.”
When he finally warps himself home with a bag laden with goodies on his arm, he’s tired. Not bone deep exhaustion or anything deeper than he hasn’t slept all that well in a few days and there’s too many curses to take care of with too little time on the clock. He’s looking forward to sleeping in his own bed, with his people, in his own home for once.
The house is dimly lit and soothing to his eyes as he slips his blindfold off to really see, slipping his shoes off to begin his wind down process. Voices further in the house catch his attention as he steps out of the entryway and into the living area.
Dark brown meets ethereal blue, and with it drives away the lingering tension in his frame.
He doesn’t even bother pretending to be suave or not eager, rushing towards the couch and flopping down harshly against the cushions and the two bodies curled up on them. Wiggles and squeezes in, ignoring the grumbles and groans and hisses until he’s situated between the cushion and their bodies, arms over his head and his face pressed into the give of their sides.
“I’m hooomee!” He coos, bratty but so, so happy.
“Eugh, we can tell you absolute menace.” Suguru grumbles, voice rough and raspy from sleep. The sound warms him from the tips of his white hair all the way down to his toes.
Nagako’s answering snort makes it feel like he has sugar in his veins, all the bad shit Shoko likes to lecture him about squared and bundled up into the joy he feels being home. Surrounded by their distinctive scents, pressed as far as physically possible against their skin.
It’s heaven and home and every infinity, every possibility.
Itadori Yuuji does in fact remind Suguru uncomfortably of himself as a teenager… when he isn’t blatantly acting like Gojo Satoru if Satoru ever learned manners and acted humble. The world would end before that happened, so Suguru contents himself with the knowledge that leaving Itadori and Satoru alone is a terrible idea.
And he really is trying to teach, cross his heart.
Unfortunately, Satoru also got the memo and a smidgen of free time, which means that he’s found his way into the classroom and is slowly working on being the most distracting buzzing fly in Suguru’s peripheral.
“-the concept of a cursed tool came about before even the Heian Era, where curses were at their strongest and sorcerers were similarly few and far bet- Satoru, don’t.”
“Boooooo, you’re so boring, Suguruuu.” Satoru pouts, acting nothing like the almost thirty-year-old man he’s supposed to be.
“This is a class, it’s not meant to be fun.” He counters, annoyance a tangible feeling in the throb next to his eyes.
“Not if you’re teaching, clearly.”
“Gojo-sensei.” Megumi, angel child that he is, chides roughly.
“You guys-“ Whatever Satoru was going to say gets cut off by the door sliding open rapidly, drawing all eyes to the opening. The annoyance that was building with every obnoxious sigh, scuff, and ad lib from Satoru is washed into vindictive pleasure as Nagako stomps into the room with a subtle scowl.
The gulp from Satoru is audible in the ensuing silence.
“You were meant to be in a meeting with Yaga THIRTY minutes ago.” She hisses, not even giving Satoru a chance to reply or defend himself as she grabs him by the loose collar of his jacket and bodily hauls the strongest sorcerer of their generation, their lifetime, this century, away.
The dejected “Nagakooooo” Satoru whines out gradually gets quieter the further away the two get from the classroom, leaving Suguru feeling relieved and smug.
“Back to my point, Kugisaki, how is a cursed tool made?”
“Ne, Sensei, everyone says you, Gojo-sensei and Nee-san are the strongest, but like… who’s actually stronger?” Itadori pipes in as they’re on their way to a pretty easy mission a few miles outside of the city center.
They’ve moved past the initial iciness (mostly his own fault) easily, mostly in thanks to Itadori’s forgiving and kind of oblivious personality. Apparently, that means free reign on questions.
He sighs, lightly, and pretends to ponder. There isn’t actually that much to ponder, because the question has been asked countless times before, each new iteration of student and junior sorcerers asking one of them a version of it.
There is also a inherent knowledge of their power from living in close quarters for so long and practically growing up together.
“In general, or?” He prompts, wondering how deep of an explanation the boy is looking for.
“Well, in a fight who would win?”
“Satoru, hands down.” He answers without hesitation. He feels slightly vindicated at the awed and incredulous looks shot his way from all three students, though Megumi’s is hard to spot in comparison.
“No way! Why?”
“He is the strongest, in terms of cursed energy, technique and defense.” He explains patiently. Ijichi drives silently, as usual, looking vaguely relieved that it’s Suguru in his passenger seat and not Satoru. As if Suguru is any better at the core, but if it makes the assistant feel better, then who is he to judge.
“Then how are all three of you considered the strongest?” Megumi asks, trying to sound disinterested but failing.
“Simple, Satoru simply is the strongest out of anyone. Nagako and I are the only two who come close, for now. In terms of cursed energy, I have almost as much as Satoru and my technique is far more versatile, but I can’t use RCT which limits my capabilities. In terms of raw physical power, Nagako has us both beat due to her ability to enhance her body with cursed energy down to the atom.” He answers, as if it’s simple.
It's not, at the end of the day, but they’re not asking for a play-by-play breakdown of how it really all works.
If they removed all cursed energy from the equation, Suguru would win in a fight. That is a fact of life. If you removed Infinity from Satoru’s repertoire but kept the cursed energy, Satoru would lose eventually. In a straight fight between himself and Nagako, they haven’t yet decided on who would win. Together? There is not a singular force in this universe that could beat them.
Most of it is conjecture from training, going on missions together and late-night musings.
It’s also almost entirely factual.
Even Ryomen Sukuna would not win against all three of them at all twenty fingers of power.
“Say, what’s the weirdest curse you have, Geto-sensei?”
Sweets (13:00PM)
Nagaaa, Suguuuu, what do you guys want from
Seoul??
Sugar (13:01PM)
I don’t need anything, I won’t be home anyway
(13:05PM)
Wait we’re all out rn???
Sweets (13:10PM)
FR?
Sugar (13:12PM)
Shit.
It’s been a few years since Satoru and Suguru began teaching young hopeful sorcerers. They’ve enjoyed it, and despite remaining a full-time active sorcerer herself, Nagako, he knows, enjoys helping when she can.
They’ve come up with a game plan that works, especially with the introduction of Megumi’s class. In an effort to keep an eye on Itadori while also covering all of their bases. The second years can be left alone while Satoru is off on missions, and if Suguru gets sent out then Satoru can take over for him with the first years.
(Suguru can’t help with the second years because Zen’in Maki makes him wildly uncomfortable despite all their best efforts)
And it’s worked so far.
But the higher-ups are still crafty and grasping at straws for a modicum of control over the situation, and this is just the icing on the metaphorical cake.
If he’s a little bit excessive, wrapping up his own mission, well.
The higher-ups have sat around quietly for far too long.
And now they’ve landed him with a dead student due to their own egos and fears, and he’ll have to break the news to Nagako that her little brother died because of them. As if she didn’t have countless reasons to despise them already.
There’s a migraine threatening the edges of his vision just thinking about how much it will take to talk her off the edge, if she hasn’t stormed their homes already. He knows she just flew straight over Yaga’s head and checks in herself occasionally with that freaky sensory shit she does.
That’s not even taking into consideration how Suguru will feel when he finds out and his own mounting rage at the sheer audacity of those old fucks at the top.
Every time they pull shit like this, his dream of a successful revolution feels like it slips further and further out of his fingers.
He can’t let that happen.
Arguably, being punched in the nose by a blue enhanced fist from Satoru would probably rattle her less than the past twenty-four hours. And he’s done that before, she’s felt it.
But it really does not compare to the complete and utter shit storm that their lives have become thanks to a certain group of someone’s that Satoru made her promise to leave alone.
For now.
Even seeing Yuuji, whole and healthy, doesn’t quite settle her nerves after feeling his budding cursed energy blink away like it never existed. Then Satoru’s somber call where he delivered the news from the school.
Yuuji is safe though, at least for the moment. Hidden behind the barriers and wards of her home with an eccentric training regime from Satoru.
Her skin feels foreign along her body and the sensation of ants crawling in her bloodstream is distracting, a physical note that only adds to the ringing in her ears and the emotional whiplash of dread to heartbreak to relief so potent it brought tears to her eyes.
Knowing he’s within a floor of her when she returns home now is not quite as reassuring as she’d hope, but it’s certainly better than nothing.
“You have to promise me, Nagako.”
“They can’t keep fucking doing this!”
“I know, I know, but it’ll all be for nothing if we stoop to their level, and you know it.”
“They’re playing with their lives, Satoru.”
“I know.”
“They’re children.”
“I know.”
She doesn’t know if it’s a good thing that he knows her so well, that he caught her before she could do something reckless and messy. Because at the end of the day, the longer the higher-ups are left unchecked the more damage they have room to do.
But he’s right, because if she let herself be swayed by emotions like she wanted, it could very well be worse.
What was that saying? The devil you know?
Whatever the case, Itadori Yuuji lives for now, despite the higher-ups’ best efforts. The circumstances are… strange, and they certainly don’t fill her with confidence, but she’ll take it over his death.
Any day, any time, a thousand times over.
Those kids deserve to live.
She can scrounge up the very dredges of her patience to ensure they have the chance.
Satoru, at least, has the decency to look vaguely cowed and droopy once they shuffle Yuuji off to the basement to wait. She’s not even really sure what she looks like right now, sure that Satoru can’t see the specific minutia of her expression with the blindfold still on, but the energy is tense.
“So what’s your grand plan.” She says after a beat, holding her tone mild and steady.
“Ahahaha, okay so clearly, they’re after him.” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck in a way she knows means he’s trying to minimize.
“Yes yes, they want him dead I got that part. What is your plan?”
“Well, Shoko falsified the reports already to say he’s still dead. We’re gonna roll with that so he can train a bit more without the higher-ups trying to kill him every time he leaves the school.” God she’s going to throttle him.
“What about Megumi? And Kugisaki?” She challenges, fighting the urge to grab and shake the white-haired man before her by clenching her fists until her nails threaten to break the skin of her palms.
“They’ll be okay, it’s an unfortunate hazard of our life.” He waves it off with a blasé hand gesture, but he can’t hide the tightening of his lips or the subtle freezing of his body.
And he’s right, though she hates it and the careless words make her choke on her next inhale, because while she’s not intimately familiar with losing comrades or fellow sorcerers since she’s almost exclusively worked alone, that is not the case for people below Grade-1.
“He’s going to be furious.” She reminds him, rather than reprimand.
They might not get along all that well, but she knows Megumi means the world to Satoru.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” He hedges, leaning forward slightly.
“I’ll try.” She wishes it were harder to give in. Unfortunately, they don’t have the luxury of sentimentality in their lives. The only consolation she receives for it is Satoru unwinding from the tensed, straight-backed stand before her and the vague buzzing that precedes his infinity turning off.
When he goes to hug her, both arms wrapped tight over her shoulders, she folds herself in willingly. Pretends like her hands aren’t shaking slightly as she wraps them around his midsection and clings.
“We’ve got this, just have a little faith.” He murmurs into her hair.
“Just point me in a direction.” She grumbles halfheartedly in response.
But she means it.
“Let’s table that for the moment.”
“Fair enough. You’re the big spoon tonight.”
“Eeeehh?!”
Notes:
Thank you as always for reading! <3
Chapter 4: What a catch, Yuuji
Summary:
A throne of bones, a world washed red.
“I warned you…” A voice rings out, rough and low in the ringing silence. “There’d be no second time.”
Notes:
Back with another chapter! This one was difficult cause it’s been a while since I’ve written any action, but we’re getting into it in this story so… I ought to get used to it?
Warnings for this chapter: Canon-typical violence, active spoilers for JJK S1, subtle spoilers for JJK0 Movie. Descriptions of blood but nothing crazy.
Not proofread, unbeta’d, wrote it and posted it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“The hell’re you doing here?”
He likes to imagine there are two creatures sitting on his shoulders at all times. One with the mild voice of scornful reason that sounds suspiciously like Nagako “she’s trying her best, that’s admirable.” And the other with the careless “Bah, you’re too judgey” that has Satoru’s purposefully dense ignorance.
Most people describe that feeling as a devil and an angel on their shoulders. For Suguru it’s two voices of reason against the unfortunately never-ending moral dilemma he faces.
Zen’in Maki doesn’t make it easy for him to listen to them though.
He takes mild pleasure in the way her scowl deepens as he rolls his eyes at her words and doesn’t bother responding. He’s not here to make her feel good, he’s here to make sure they look good against Kyoto.
“I see you’ve all become acquainted.” He muses.
“Tuna tuna.”
“Eh, Geto-sensei, where is Gojo-sensei?” Panda pipes in.
“He’s off on a mission right now, so you’re stuck with me.”
“Great.” Zen’in scoffs, knuckles turning white around the base of the wooden Bo-staff.
Gods, maybe if she were polite he’d be able to stomach her presence for longer. And how embarrassing it is to have a genuine issue with a kid at his age. At least neither of his partners is here to witness it.
Satoru would never let it go, and the phantom weight of Nagako’s annoyed stare is enough to raise the hairs along his arms.
Why’d he say yes again?
Oh yeah, one whole month of being excused from the household chores.
“Pair off and get going, I want to see where you’re all at.” As if he doesn’t get a descriptive play by play by Satoru every other day.
They do so with quiet grumbles, and he settles back by the bleachers on the edge of the field to observe, easier with the distance to take everything in. Tracking each student as they spread out along the grass covered field. Zen’in and Megumi, Panda and Kugisaki, while Inumaki waits for someone else to free up.
Thankfully, despite any misgivings on his part, they’re all good kids.
There’s potential.
He doesn’t have quite the same gift for seeing it as Satoru, but it’s harder to ignore as he watches Zen’in begin putting Megumi through the paces of swordsmanship, and Kugisaki dodge Panda’s swipes, each time quicker and quicker.
He only hopes Yuu swings by to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later.
“Na-Na-Min!”
“Cease and desist, Gojo-San.”
“But I need a favor.”
This is shit.
His day started out fine, he got to the bakery right at opening, picked up breakfast and a coffee and enjoyed it in a quiet corner before heading to work. Answered the multitude of texts Yuu sent him the night before and read the paper undisturbed.
Of course, the second he steps onto the school grounds is the second it’s all disrupted.
Somehow, between 10AM and now, he’s succumbed to the childish goading and begging in the form of Gojo Satoru and landed him with another bright eyed, cheerful protégé. One that is supposedly ‘dead’ and connected to the only other sorcerer (outside of Yuu) that he genuinely likes and respects.
“Ne, Nanami-San, Gojo-sensei mentioned you know Nagako-nee?” Itadori chimes in hesitantly as they track the cursed residuals from the scene.
“Yes, she is tolerable.” He agrees.
He can’t see Itadori slump due to the glasses he chose to wear but the audible sigh the boy lets out is enough of an indication.
He’s not looking forward to this assignment.
The slam of a car door from further away jolts stalls Kento in his worried dash towards where Itadori ran off to.
“Nanami-kun, what’s the situation?”
He whirls on his feet, part relief and annoyance at the interruption.
“Kibe-san-“
“…Junpei, join Jujutsu High.” The hands in his own quiver, but he doesn’t look away from his friend’s tear-stained face, even as more fall to wet the other’s cheeks. “You’d like it, there’s lots of crazy strong teachers and reliable friends there, that wouldn’t treat you like this.” He says it like a vow, means it with his entire being even though the fresh wounds in his shoulder and side ache and ooze. “Together, I promise we can find who cursed your mom, and then you can make them pay for it! So c’mon!”
He’s not above begging.
Not for a life he can save, because it would mean something.
It might even mean anything.
If he can just get through to Junpei, then there’s hope for him. Hope for them. That maybe he can be a sorcerer worth standing beside Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Nanamin, Gojo-sensei, Geto-sensei and Nee-San.
That she’d be proud. He can meet Gramps when it’s his time and tell him he did save people.
Junpei doesn’t respond, not right away, but he’s okay with waiting even if the silence is killing him. Standing on an edge as his heart pounds in his chest and the silence rings in his ears, broken by their uneven, rapid breathing.
And then a footstep from above.
His eyes shoot away from Junpei, because no one else should be here.
Not a single soul.
But the thing in front of him on the landing above isn’t human, that much he can tell. Stitches and scars bisecting its body, mismatched eyes and pale hair.
“Who the hell are you?” He gets out, mentally preparing for another fight even as his body protests. His knee slips slightly in the blood from his wounds, trying to shift so he can stand quicker.
“It’s nice to meet you,” The creature, person, thing, greets. Mockingly pleasant as it descends the stairs, arms outstretched. “Vessel of Sukuna.” It finishes, lips upturned in a large smirk.
Its left arm morphs rapidly, gaining size but somehow losing shape to become blob-like. Whatever it is, it sets Junpei off, finally getting him to speak up.
“No don’t do it!” He yells, and Yuuji has no time at all to dodge or do more than stand on shaky legs before he’s caught.
Slammed up against the wall of the school with enough force to break the remaining windows and knock the air out of his lungs as he’s squeezed and pressed in, in, in. Curses himself for his fucking impulse control, because the curses’ form finally registers.
Patchwork face, human in shape.
Exactly why Nanamin told him to stay out of this.
If he lives, Nee-San is going to kill him.
“Junpei, get out!” He manages to scrounge up enough air to yell, because at least he has Sukuna, despite him being the source of every fucking bad thing in his life. Junpei does not have that. “I don’t care what your relationship is with this thing, it’s not your friend! Get out of here!”
“Itadori, calm down it’s okay, Mahito’s not-“
The entire scene is shattered in the blink of an eye. The curse, Mahito, who was a second ago creeping up to Junpei’s back as he maintained his hold on Yuuji, jerks back into the far wall with a pained gasp and a bolt of cursed energy sticking out of the shoulder not currently transformed.
The Eldritch horror holding him against the wall then explodes in a shower of purple blood and the sparks of blue cursed energy, dropping him to land in a heap on the floor even as Junpei rushes forward with a bitten off cry.
“What the…” The curse, Mahito, murmurs to himself even as he and Junpei rise together.
“Did-… did you do that?” Junpei whispers, both of them watching Mahito wearily as his form slides back together.
“No…” He wheezes, confused but relieved, taking huge lungfuls of air just because he can again.
Movement in his peripheral snaps his attention to just past Junpei’s head, heart stuttering in his chest as he watches his nee-san’s form sail through the broken window behind them feet first. She lands upright, heels clicking against the tiled floor loudly.
“My, my, my…. I was warned about you.” Mahito croons mockingly.
“S’that so.” Nagako-nee counters blandly, taking in the scene, motionless.
She got his blood on her shoe.
“Oh yes, you’ve been quite the nuisance.”
“Yuuji, take your friend and get out of here.” She barks, eyes focused on Mahito. Junpei’s hold on his arm tightens, flinching back.
“Nee-san! I-“
“Go. I won’t say it again.” He’s never heard that tone from her before. Low and sharp, carrying through the air easily. The shock of it has him following her direction without thought, dragging Junpei along with a white knuckled grip on the fabric of his jacket. The other boy struggles to keep up, but he can’t slow down.
The sound of concrete smashing and the swell of cursed energy behind him tears him in half.
She doesn’t know.
She doesn’t know.
He barely sees where he’s going, moving on autopilot even as Junpei finally gets his feet under him and matches him stride for stride. They hit the stairs and practically fly down them, stumbling together as the building itself seems to shake beneath their feet.
Down, down, down, out!
His side and shoulder barely register as pain points, adrenaline muting everything except for a heightened awareness of the cursed energy around them and the rapid slam of his heart.
“Itadori, slow down!” Junpei cries out, but he ignores him in favor of bodily slamming the doors of the school open.
He only slows once he catches sight of Nanamin rushing towards them along the edges of the school’s courtyard, skidding and nearly stumbling into a heap in the dirt. Junpei drops to his knees next to Yuuji, sobbing in between massive, body shaking breaths.
“Nanamin… the patchwork curse-“
“I know, Itadori. I told you not to go in there!” Nanamin says harshly, closing the distance to check them briefly, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of Yuuji’s wounds but saying nothing. “What’s the situation?” He says after he deems them well enough.
“One died; Nee-San is fighting the curse.”
“His name is Mahito, he said….” Junpei adds, pausing to take another shuddering inhale, “He’s the embodiment of fear of other humans.”
“Hm.” Nanami starts with a hum, opening his mouth for another question or statement only to be cut off by the clamor of concrete and windows shattering. Yuuji’s gaze rips away from the older sorcerer, watching as between a rain of industrial materials a flash of dark clothes shoots towards the ground, slamming into it hard enough for the earth to shake beneath his feet. Chunks of dirt fly up to meet the concrete raining down, the rest expanding or cracking under the force.
He catches a glimpse of red before his eyes latch onto Nee-San as she flips away from the blast area, landing with a skid along the path towards the gate of the courtyard.
“Both of you, stay back. This fight is out of our league.” Nanamin orders, rushing to step between them and the slowly settling dust in front of them.
“Who is that?!” Junpei cries.
“That, is Kibe Nagako, one of five special-grade sorcerers in the world.” Nanami answers before Yuuji can, but it doesn’t dispel the surge of pride he feels at his adoptive sister.
In hindsight, calling Amari to start making excuses before she got going was a very good idea. She’s pissed, beyond pissed at this point, though at who she hasn’t exactly decided yet, and the anger is mostly fueling each hit she makes.
Could she try to avoid destroying the school?
Certainly.
Will she?
No.
No, not with Yuuji’s horrified face in her minds eye, Nanami’s uncharacteristic worry and the unknown boy’s tears.
“Don’t let him touch you. He can change the shape of your soul with a single touch of his hand if you’re not careful.” Nanami barks out from the sidelines where he keeps Yuuji and the boy back with outstretched arms.
“Got it!”
The curse darts away, childlike and small.
So, you can change your form? Interesting.
She’s following before the curse can gain too much distance, running on borrowed time because she knows the line they walk currently with Jujutsu authority is… shaky at best. The curse giggles, shifting, growing in size until it’s returned to the original size.
But she can feel it, the subtle shift in cursed energy a second before the transformation begins.
A theory begins forming in her mind, half baked, but she knows she needs more information and more instances of this happening before she can be certain it would even work. She’d ask Nanami or Yuuji, but, she has to drop and continue moving.
Not enough time to chat, as a blade passes overhead, the curse’s arm morphed into a jagged, sharp-edged sword. She notes the ripple, standing back to full height and swinging a leg out in an attempt to kick the curse away.
It dodges, predictably, both of them measuring, testing.
‘I was warned about you’ the curse had said.
She’s under no delusions that it isn’t gathering data to report back to whoever warned it about her. How strange. Curses almost exclusively work alone, but this one is capable of intelligent speech. Of mocking and conversation beyond any curse she’s encountered yet.
She lets herself fall into a rhythm of dodging the strikes the curse makes as it giggles to itself, mostly on defense. Waiting it out, analyzing.
Each new shape its body takes happens one second after its cursed energy shifts and, she notes, it’s only using eighty percent of its cursed energy. She can feel the majority of it writhe and snap against her own, but there’s a portion of it under everything else, inert, unused.
This curse is brand new.
She tucks the knowledge into her head for later, a tidbit about their enemies to report back to the others once she’s done here. Time to go on the offensive and put her theory to the test.
He’s never seen Nee-San fight, not in his recent memory. He tries to track her with his eyes, following as she shoots forward and begins an assault on Mahito. Snapping spikes as they form and flicking arms-turned-swords away with the flick of her hands.
They’re both a flurry of movement, trading blows, but he thinks that Nee-San has the upper hand now, because Mahito is slowing. She’s landing more strikes, dodging less often and pushing him back, back, back.
Mahito eats a hard uppercut to the chin, knocking him back at least a meter, and Nee-San is on him immediately. Barely giving the curse time to breathe or fight back, just hit after hit. Punches connecting with dull thuds and kicks that rattle the ground.
He distantly likes knowing more, now, about fighting. It adds a layer to what he’s watching because he has things to compare it too. She fights like Yuuji himself, less finesse and more raw power. Hits that connect simply because they’re either too fast or too strong to dodge and block. She’s not graceful or rigid like Geto-sensei, who moves like it’s a dance and knocks your feet from under you before you can blink.
Junpei remains locked on the ground besides him, shaking slightly under Yuuji’s hand on his shoulder, and Nanamin is a hard line in front of them. Not quite blocking, but a solid wall between them and the battle.
He can’t quite hear what’s going on, but after watching Naga-nee beat the living hell out of Mahito, she flinches back, pulling back minutely as the curses head rolls back slightly.
The energy in the air shifts, raising the hair on his arms and the back of his neck.
“Kibe-San!” Nanami yells.
But it’s too late.
Hands made of cursed energy begin sprouting from the ground and the air around Mahito, all curling in trying to reach her. She dodges, jumping back to avoid them as the breeze past her, over and over again.
And then it forms, fully.
It’s only thanks to Gojo-sensei that he even knows what he’s looking at, but he’s never seen it from the outside.
A domain expansion.
“Self embodiment of Perfection!”
“Well shit.” She groans.
Not exactly fitting, for the situation, but it aptly describes it. She keeps her eyes on the curse, even as the hands fall into place around her, massive and looming in the dark space of the domain.
She has options, thankfully.
It’s not ideal, and she needs to be fast if she wants to avoid the guaranteed hit of the domain which will no doubt end the fight and her life. One solid punch, enhanced with her cursed energy enough to shatter the concentration and cursed form. Or her own Domain.
She’d like to avoid that, if possible. This creature is slippery, and no doubt not truly alone. Anything she reveals here could very well get back to their enemies and while Satoru can flaunt his strength and techniques as much as he wants, she does not have limitless.
If they know, they can counter it.
She hates her enemies knowing what’s coming for them.
“Right now, I’m just so… grateful to you.” The curse murmurs, echoing in the vast nothingness. Bouncing off the near hundred of massive hands.
“S’that so?” She queries.
Chatty, that’s good. If she can keep it talking, she gets information and buys herself some time. She draws her cursed energy back in, releasing her hold to let it vibrate at its natural frequency. Packs it down across her body, layers it under her skin, in her muscles and bones, her organs.
“Indeed! I never would have figured this out on my own, you know?” The curse cheers, arms outstretched and grin widening. She doesn’t flinch as the darkness below her is replaced with a hand. “You almost killed me! And it was that near death that allowed me to blossom!”
“So, you are a newborn.”
“Huh? Oh yes, but I’m learning so much! And it’s all thanks to you Sorcerers. So really, thank you!”
“Mm, I don’t need your gratitude. Though I suppose I must commend you for such a… quick evolution.” She muses.
“Ohoh!” The curse giggles to itself, lips stretching further, so proud.
So sure of it’s victory.
She can feel the cursed energy under her feet writhe against her own, packed as it is. Brings her hands up and presses her palms together, fingertips facing the sightless moon. Option two.
Then, the sound of shattering glass. A beam of light.
She jerks her head up, hands falling from their position of prayer, only to watch Yuuji fly through a hole in the ceiling of the domain. Her heart drops to her toes, brain uncomprehending for a moment.
And then she remembers.
A domain, weaker from the outside. Even with the hole in it, it would still be effective to any typical sorcerer or curse in it’s depths.
But Itadori Yuuji is no longer a normal human, or a typical Sorcerer.
And unlike herself, there is something tucked within Yuuji’s soul that won’t allow itself to be changed or touched.
The world around her shifts and blurs, even as Yuuji lands in front of her. She blinks to clear the dizziness, grabbing the boys shoulder roughly under her palm, only to freeze.
A throne of bones, a world washed red.
“I warned you…” A voice rings out, rough and low in the ringing silence. “There’d be no second time.” Ryomen Sukuna declares.
And she’s not used to fear, not anymore. Not after years of being harder to kill than a cockroach and more dangerous than ninety-eight percent of sorcerers alive. But this fear, it’s instinctual.
It locks her muscles and stalls her heart in her chest, watching Sukuna slice directly to the curse’s soul with a flick of his fingers. Proud and mighty on his trophies, dark marks along his skin, face a mockery of Yuuji’s young form.
She’s holding Yuuji hard enough for even him to bruise, but her fingers won’t cooperate.
The curse tries to cover the bleeding wound, but blood shoots out of it uncontrollably, soaking the ground of the domain and splattering their clothes and faces. Not the purple of a normal curse, but not the true red of human blood either. Something close to both.
But it’s hot like human blood where it lands on her skin, sticky and wet even as Sukuna’s visage fades into the blood toned darkness around them. Watching, somehow displeased and bored at once like they’re all unruly pets, or ants that wandered too close.
And then it shatters again, fully.
The domain turns to dust around them, bathing the area in muted blue from the filtered sky above the veil.
Notes:
As always, hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading :))
laliiiyipyip on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 02:04AM UTC
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ghostmojave on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 10:41PM UTC
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Fangurl_A on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 02:08PM UTC
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ghostmojave on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 10:42PM UTC
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Fangurl_A on Chapter 4 Wed 10 Sep 2025 03:09AM UTC
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ghostmojave on Chapter 4 Wed 10 Sep 2025 11:23AM UTC
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