Chapter Text
“Do you feel cursed?” Nobara asked, standing over a rusting, dust-caked Famicom game console plugged into an ancient CRT television that flickered with malevolence.
Megumi blinked. “You mean existentially or contextually?”
“Both,” she said, poking the controller with the tip of her hammer. “It’s giving evil retro hipster ghost.”
The TV crackled.
“Insert player,” a distorted voice groaned from the screen. “Win the game... or be consumed.”
“Nice,” Yuuji said brightly. “Sounds like every mission we’ve had since the first year.”
They stood in the middle of a dingy, cursed apartment reeking of mold, loneliness, and the despair of someone who never updated their hardware after 1989. The game console pulsed. Nobara’s first instinct was violence. She tried exorcising it. Her nails bounced off the TV and her hammer got sucked in.
“...That’s not supposed to happen,” she muttered.
“Maybe it wants us to play it,” Yuuji offered.
“Sure,” Megumi deadpanned. “Let’s definitely participate in a haunted death-console’s vintage LAN party. What could go wrong?”
Yuuji grinned, already picking up a controller. “C’mon. It’s just like those old games I used to emulate with Grandpa.”
Five minutes later, Yuuji fell into the first pit. Nobara mistimed a jump and got flattened by a Goomba. Megumi sighed.
“Give me that,” he said with a sigh.
But before he could try, the TV hissed.
“Too slow. GAME OVER.”
And they were sucked in.
……..
The world rebooted in color.
Yuuji was the first to respawn, blinking against an overly bright sky painted in obnoxious blues and questionable physics, groaning, and sat up. The ground beneath him was unnervingly springy like he was sitting on a memory of grass. “...Huh.”
He looked down. Blue overalls. Big white gloves. An ‘M’ on his chest.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, patting himself down in horror. Then he reached up and grabbed the red cap on his head. “No way.”
He flipped it over.
“Mario hat?”
“Ugh, what happened,” Nobara groaned from his right.
Yuuji turned…and froze.
She was wearing green. Green shirt. Green hat. Suspenders. The cursed ‘L’ glowing faintly on her cap like divine mockery.
He stared, then pointed. “You’re Luigi!?”
Nobara blinked, still half-dazed. “Huh—what?”
Then she looked at Yuuji’s outfit.
Her face fell. “The hell are you doing dressed like Mario!?”
“Well, you’re dressed like Luigi!” Yuuji fired back.
They both stared at each other. Identical suspenders. Identical gloves. Only her color coordination was losing the will to live.
“Green doesn’t even suit me!” Nobara shrieked. “I look like a rejected traffic light! I should be a princess!”
Before Yuuji could answer, a mechanical hum echoed through the sky. The air shimmered. Text appeared across the clouds in crisp pixel font:
❝PLAYER ROLES ASSIGNED BASED ON PERSONALITY TRAITS❞
❝PLAYER 2 – NOBARA: NOT PRINCESS-LIKE ENOUGH❞
There was a pause.
Then Nobara exploded.
“EXCUSE ME?!” she roared. “WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?! WHO PROGRAMMED THIS SEXIST PIECE OF….! COME DOWN HERE, YOU 8-BIT COWARD, I’M GONNA SHOVE A HAMMER THROUGH YOUR CODE!”
The voice from the heavens responded with smug composure.
❝You lack the grace and elegance required to be a princess. Be grateful, Player 2.❞
“GRACE?! I’LL SHOW YOU GRACE!” she screamed, summoning her hammer and whacking the nearest floating block. It clanged, did nothing, and dropped a mushroom that bonked her squarely on the head.
Then the screen above them shimmered again. A cutscene loaded, complete with dramatic orchestral music and suspicious sparkles.
Megumi had not yet woken up.
He was floating awkwardly several meters off the ground, body limp, a pink parasol drifting lazily beside him. His normally disheveled hair had been re-rendered into glossy dark waves that shimmered under pixel sunlight. A small crown tilted on his head. His dress—yes, dress— caught the light in glittering flares of pink and gold.
Another soft ding!
And Megumi’s eyelids fluttered open.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Took in Yuuji’s horrified face.
Nobara’s disbelief gasp.
Then—slowly, very slowly—Megumi looked down at himself.
Silence.
A breeze drifted through the candy-colored sky, carrying the faint chime of floating coins and the unbearable weight of humiliation.
He tilted his head up, reading the glowing text hovering above them in cheerful font…
PLAYER 3—PRINCESS PEACH.
He looked back down at his reflection in a nearby pixelated pond.
Pink gown. Tiara. Sparkles. The world’s most soul-crushing shade of lipstick.
Megumi stared.
At his reflection.
At the tiara.
At his life choices that, apparently, led directly here.
“Just… why,” he whispered flatly. “Why does this keep happening to me?”
“WHY IS FUSHIGURO PRINCESS PEACH?!” Nobara shrieked, voice ricocheting off the technicolor horizon. She looked personally offended, especially since Megumi, somehow, looked good in the dress and that pink lipstick. “And why does he look so good in that tiara?! I’m the pretty one! the one with taste!”
“Maybe the game sensed your rage,” Yuuji offered, trying to calm her down but failing. “You’re, uh… more of a villain type?”
Nobara rounded on him. “You wanna die in 8-bit, Itadori?”
Megumi sighed, brushing imaginary dust from his glittering skirt. “If I jump off one of these cliffs, do I respawn or get released from this cursed existence?”
“Don’t say that,” Yuuji said, ever the optimist. “Maybe it’s a good thing! Peach is the main love interest!”
Megumi gave him a look so sharp it could’ve cut through Gojo’s Infinity. “I’d rather be the final boss.”
Yuuji blinked, then—because sincerity was his curse—said, “You… actually look really pretty, though.”
There was a beat. Then Megumi’s eye twitched.
“Itadorii, come here so I can strangle you.”
“W–wait, no! I meant it as a good thing!” Yuuji yelped, immediately ducking behind Nobara like a human shield. His red cap tilted sideways in panic.
Nobara sighed dramatically, then without warning kicked him square in the butt.
Yuuji toppled forward with a loud, undignified “Ow!”
“That’s what you get,” she said, dusting her gloves, “for calling Fushiguro prettier than me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that—but it’s true!” Yuuji pouted, rubbing his bruised pride. “He’s always been kinda… pretty.”
“Your gay ass is showing,” Nobara deadpanned.
“Hey! That’s rude!” Yuuji squawked, turning bright red.
The two started bickering, a cartoon storm of shouting and offended gestures.
Megumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Somebody take me away from here.”
And because the universe loved irony, the sky above them darkened on cue. Thunder rolled. The air shimmered.
Then, a low, amused voice reverberated through the pixelated clouds.
“Oh, sweetheart,” it drawled, dark and velvety.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
They looked up.
King Bowser descended in a plume of pixelated fire…towering, broad-shouldered, muscles gleaming gold-red under the artificial light. Four scarlet eyes. Black crown of jagged spikes. Tattoos crawling like molten lines across his arms.
The voice was unmistakable.
Sukuna.
“Welcome to the game, brats,” he purred, the sound echoing with reverb. The game had given him a tail, which flicked lazily behind him, and a cape that billowed purely for dramatic purposes.
He smirked down at them, fangs glinting. “Well, well. Looks like this game finally gave me something interesting to conquer.”
Then his gaze landed on Megumi.
“That’s an adorable look on you, Fushiguro Megumi,” Sukuna said, lips curling. “You make a very pretty princess.”
Megumi’s eye twitched. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Nobara threw her arms up. “Of course, the horny curse gets to be the hot villain!”
Yuuji’s jaw dropped. “Wait, wait, wait—why are you there?” he said, pointing at the king of curses. “...and he’s Bowser?!”
Sukuna gave a half-shrug that radiated villainous swagger. “Seems the curse’s domain split us. I’m the final boss in this world. You’re just player one.” His grin widened menacingly. “For now.”
Megumi could only rub his temples. “What is this ridiculousness?”
The world glitched.
Pixels shimmered, the air warped, and before Megumi could move, a massive cage materialized around him, dropping from the sky like divine punishment.
He barely had time to mutter “What is it this time!?…” before the bars sealed shut and he pixelatedly transported near Sukuna.
Sukuna leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the edge of his throne made of pixelated bones and lava, smirking down at him. “Sit tight, Princess. I’ll make sure this level never ends.”
The ground trembled. The music shifted into an ominous 8-bit march. All around them, the landscape transformed…floating platforms rising, green pipes bursting from the dirt, question blocks blinking into existence.
And across the sky, glowing in massive letters:
GAME MISSION: RESCUE THE PRINCESS
PRESS START TO BEGIN
Yuuji took a quick step forward…
Only to bounce off an invisible wall.
“What the…?!”
“Game not started,” droned the same mechanical curse voice. “Awaiting external player.”
“No Shit, we’re on pause!!!” Nobara shouted.
—-
MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE REAL WORLD…
Nitta was panicking.
“They’ve been unresponsive for hours,” she said into the phone, pacing the empty hallway. Her voice was tight with fear, the kind of worry that stuck in her throat. “Their cursed energy signatures vanished. This isn’t normal—”
“Understood,” came the calm voice on the line. “We’ll send you a special grade.”
“Wait—what?”
Pop.
“Yoo~ Nitta-chan, what’s up?”
Gojo Satoru materialized beside her, sucking on a grape lollipop, his usual smirk curling lazy at the corners.
“Gojo-senpai!” Nitta nearly dropped her phone, both relieved and half-ready to strangle him. “You scared me!”
“Good reflexes,” he said, eyes bright behind his blindfold. “So what’s the issue?”
“The kids,” she said, her voice faltering. “They… disappeared.”
Gojo tilted his head, still smiling, but his tone shifted. “Disappeared?”
“Vanished,” Nitta said quickly. “Their cursed signatures just—cut off. Gone.”
Gojo’s eyes narrowed, though his grin didn’t fade. “Huh. That’s... curious.”
He strolled past her and into the apartment, pushing the door open as if stepping into a time capsule. Dust swirled in lazy circles, disturbed only by the faint hum of cursed energy. The place smelled like damp air, mildew, and something faintly metallic—like the inside of an old battery.
He crouched near the floor, running a finger across a line of dried salt someone had drawn and forgotten years ago. “Charming,” he murmured. “Vintage haunting aesthetic.”
There were cobwebs in the corners, a sagging curtain over the window, and in the center of the room, sitting alone on a low table, was a small, ancient Sony Trinitron TV.
Next to it: a faded red-and-white Famicom console, still plugged in.
The cursed energy was leaking from it like low static—soft, rhythmic, familiar.
Gojo stepped closer, blindfold slipping just enough for his Six Eyes to focus.
And then, he saw them.
Their cursed signatures, tangled together in pixels and code, trapped inside a digital storm.
“...Oh,” he said softly. “Well, that’s funny.”
He crouched, elbows on his knees, and squinted at the flickering screen.
“Yuuji… Nobara…” he murmured, watching the chibi avatars on screen. One red-capped pixel figure was enthusiastically slamming its head into an invisible wall. Another, green and screaming, is waving her hammer in the air or something.
Then his gaze drifted right.
“...Megumi?”
Gojo’s eye twitched.
The screen showed a sparkling pink tower. Inside it, Princess Peach. Long lashes, ribboned hair, tiara slightly crooked, glaring at the camera with the full existential fury of a boy in a ball gown.
And behind him, a monstrous pixelated hunk with a dragon's tail roared with laughter…tattooed, pink-haired, unmistakably Sukuna.
“Seriously?” Gojo muttered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The console buzzed. A new line of text appeared on the screen in glowing, pixelated font:
❝INSERT PLAYER TO BEGIN❞
❝SAVE THE PRINCESS AND YOU SAVE EVERYONE. LOSE THREE TIMES... AND THEY’RE FOREVER TRAPPED.❞
❝DESTROY ME... AND THEY DIE WITH ME. SO COME ON—PLAY.❞
The air grew still.
Gojo’s lollipop clicked between his teeth as he stood, expression smoothing into something dangerously calm.
“Ah. So that’s how it’s gonna be.”
He cracked his knuckles, grin curling slow and sharp.
“Alright, Peachy,” he said, voice low but laced with amusement. “Hang tight. I’m coming.”
He picked up the controller.
And hit Start.
The Famicom and TV glowed with curse energy.
Gojo cracked his neck, a glowing controller in hand.
“Okay,” he murmured, eyes narrowing behind his blindfold. “Let’s do this.”
Then, brighter--cheerfully dangerous...
“Time to save our damsel princess, Megumi-chan.”
Apparently, the entire game heard him because inside the pixel world, speech bubbles immediately popped up above the duo.
“GOJO-SENSEIIII!!! You came!!! SAVE US!”
Yuuji, mid-jump, accidentally stomping Nobara’s head.
“You idiot, that was my jump platform!!!”
Nobara screeched, shoving him back onto his own floating tile.
“Sorry! Sorry! I panicked!” Yuuji flailed, nearly falling again.
Gojo grinned at the screen. “I am, I am so let’s win this game.”
From the other side of the pixel battlefield, another speech bubble appeared.
Crimson text. Sharp font.
“As if I’ll let you.”
Sukuna lounged atop his lava throne, crowned and cloaked, massive arms folded lazily against Bowser’s spiked gauntlets. He looked like a final boss who’d already won and was just waiting for the cutscene.
Then...another bubble popped up.
Pink.
Small.
Tired.
“…sigh.”
Megumi.
Gojo’s grin widened into something feral.
“Ohhh,” he crooned. “You just wait, King of Curses.”
He leaned forward, controller clicking ominously.
“Papa’s got save data to burn.”