Chapter Text
The early morning sun was barely cutting through the crumbling rooftops of the abandoned district when Gojo finally gave the first-years their marching orders. His usual grin was missing, replaced by a straight, unreadable expression that did little to reassure the three students beneath him. “I have to handle something at the main site,” he said quietly, voice firm but not unkind, the kind of authority that left no room for argument.
“I need you to secure this area and exorcise any curses you find. Think of it as… an early test. You've trained for this, I have faith that you'll be able to handle this alone.”
Itadori’s chest tightened, stomach twisting. “We can do this, Gojo-sensei,” he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. He knew he could, in theory, handle himself, but the responsibility of actually being alone with the others, without Gojo’s immediate presence, gnawed at him.
Megumi and Nobara were still halfway inside of the building. Megumi folded his arms and nodded, already scanning the shadows beyond the street with sharp, wary eyes. “We can handle it,” he said flatly, though he glanced at Itadori, a subtle measure of doubt in his gaze. Nobara smirked faintly, adjusting her hammer. “Let’s just not die trying. First-years’ mission, right? Piece of cake.” But the tightness in her jaw suggested otherwise.
Once Gojo’s figure disappeared around the corner, the weight of his absence fell on the team like a sudden chill. Itadori exhaled sharply, fists clenching at his sides. He could feel Sukuna stirring in his chest almost immediately, a faint heat against the nerves of his spine. The curse was aware of Gojo leaving, and so was Sukuna, and both seemed to stretch their presence to test him.
“Finally, a moment of freedom,” Sukuna murmured, voice silk and steel all at once. “Do you think they’re really on your side, brat? Look how easily they leave you to them.”
“I know, I know,” Itadori muttered under his breath, knees bending slightly as he steadied himself. “I can do this. I just… have to stay focused. Which means, you need to stop talking to me.”
Sukuna scoffed.
They moved cautiously into the central block of the district, buildings collapsed around them, shadows swallowing the corners where the curse had already begun its work. The air was thick, stagnant, and heavy with the residue of spiritual pressure- the kind that made a stomach churn and a spine tighten. Nobara led briefly, hammer clutched, eyes sharp, while Megumi flanked the rear, sensing threats with his innate instinct, each shadow a possible attack vector. Itadori stayed centered, careful, scanning, reacting.
It was only a few moments before the curse revealed itself. The creature rose from the debris of a toppled wall, a grotesque blur of sinew and twisted limbs, eyes glowing faintly red. It moved faster than they expected, the kind of speed and fluidity that spoke of power far beyond a first-year’s anticipated level. Itadori’s stomach sank as his instincts screamed- they were not prepared for this.
And then it struck.
Megumi moved first, stepping to intercept, but the curse lunged unpredictably, and without hesitation, Itadori shoved Megumi out of the way. The motion was fluid, almost second-nature- the kind of instinctive protection that came from a life of constant danger- but the curse didn’t miss. Its blow connected with Itadori’s side in a sickening, bone-jarring impact that left him gasping, vision blurring, knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, tearing through muscle and tissue, leaving a ragged, raw gash across his ribs and side.
The world narrowed to fire and sound. Air hissed in his lungs, heat and pressure constricted his chest. His hands clenched at the ground, fingers digging into the cracked concrete as he tried to stabilize himself. He was conscious. Barely. Every breath screamed, every heartbeat throbbed, and he could feel Sukuna’s presence surge inside him- but not to help.
“You listened to him,” the curse inside hissed, voice low, cold, venom-laced with fury. “You trusted Gojo instead of me. Now feel it.”
Itadori gritted his teeth, trying to push the voice aside, trying to draw on the discipline Gojo had drilled into him, but it was like trying to fight fire with a paper shield. The pain was endless and unforgiving. He could feel blood warm against his side, see the dull red blooming through his uniform. His mind clung to consciousness, aware enough to see the panic flaring in Megumi’s eyes, the tension in Nobara’s stance as she charged the creature.
The two of them fought with everything they had. Nobara’s hammer swung in arcs of desperate precision, Megumi’s shikigami supporting, maneuvering, trying to corral the curse’s power. But it was overwhelming. The creature moved unpredictably, each attack sharper, faster, leaving Nobara off-balance and Megumi forced into constant defensive adjustments. Their breaths came ragged, sweat dripping, muscles screaming. Each second stretched, a slow, painful eternity of chaos, while Itadori’s side burned like molten iron.
“Do you feel that? Weak. Vulnerable. They rely on you, and you fail them,” Sukuna whispered in a hiss now, just beneath his ear. “Feel it. Love it. It’s reality.”
Itadori gritted his teeth, tears prickling his eyes from the pain and the strain, not from defeat but from the bitter truth of Sukuna’s words. He wanted to answer, to shout, to reject the cruel, seductive comfort, but there was nothing in him that could move. Not yet. He could barely lift himself to react, could barely see past the haze of pain.
And then Megumi made the call. Voice cracking, adrenaline pushing words out faster than thought, he fumbled for his phone, fingers trembling. “Gojo… now. We need—Itadori—he—”
The seconds dragged on. Itadori felt the ground pressing into him, every shallow inhale dragging fire into his lungs, every exhale trembling, uneven. Nobara’s hammer collided with the curse’s torso one last time, shattering a fragment of its defense, Megumi’s shikigami lunging to buy space, and then- a pulse of relief barely touched him. The sound of Gojo’s presence was near before he even arrived, the subtle, chilling clarity of energy that cleared the air as he stepped into the crumbling street, eyes narrowed, scanning.
Gojo assessed the situation instantly. His gaze locked on Itadori, noting the pale sweat-streaked face, the shallow breathing, the blood staining uniform. “Well,” he muttered, almost to himself, before shifting focus to the cursed creature, energy coiling around him like a spring ready to snap.
Sukuna flared violently inside Itadori, not with action, but with sharp, burning presence. “You fool. You allowed him to interfere. You are weak,” the voice seethed. “Do not expect my mercy.”
Itadori gasped, refusing to give in, eyes wide enough to see Gojo’s motion but too blurry to track every detail. He was alive, barely, aware of the sting of pain with each breath, aware of Nobara and Megumi struggling, aware of Sukuna’s spiteful gaze pressing from the inside, aware that he had survived this long and yet could not collapse, could not let it take him entirely.
Gojo’s aura flared, sharp and precise, and with deliberate control, he struck the curse with a speed that left nothing to chance. Within moments, the creature staggered, faltered, and dissolved into dissipating energy, leaving the battlefield silent except for the ragged breathing of three first-years and a nearly broken Itadori.
Gojo turned immediately to Itadori, kneeling with a careful steadiness. Hands hovered over the wound, noting the raw devastation of muscle and tissue, the pale, clammy skin. But Sukuna, fury and pride interlacing his voice, refused to heal. “You listened to him. You trusted him. Now suffer as I would allow,” the curse hissed, pulsing like a living flame inside Itadori.
Itadori’s vision swam, every breath a razor, every heartbeat a drum of pain. He clutched at his side, aware, conscious, trapped between unbearable agony and the faint glimmer of survival. He could see Nobara’s hands shaking, Megumi’s knuckles white from the first he clenched, his shikigami surrounding him. It was all strain pressing toward him, but he could not let himself succumb.
Itadori clenched his eyes shut, trying to breathe.
"What happened?" Gojo asked calmly.
Megumi spoke.
"I...He took a hit for me."
Nobara scoffed, "Unbelievable." She muttered.
Gojo gently grabbed Itadoris jaw, bringing it upwards. "Stay awake, Itadori. I don't want to risk using RCT on you, so hang on until we can get you help."
Yujis eyes stayed closed. He didn't answer.