Chapter Text
Itadori isn’t under any binding vows currently.
I know this as soon as I touch him, skin to skin. There is only Sukuna’s burning energy, coiling like a snake, in that flesh. No signs of knots between that and Itadori’s more staticy energy, knots that mean an oath has been sworn.
Good.
I’ll have to keep checking, though. Sukuna won’t let Itadori have the upper hand forever and a binding vow is perfect to turn the tables. That will be the difficult part, finding excuses to touch Itadori so I can check.
I stick my tongue in between my upper and bottom teeth. Careful to not let it peek out past my lips. Make me look more childish than I already do.
Good thing I’m so small and Itadori so nice. He won’t turn a girl like me looking for comfort away. Like he’s letting me hold his hand right now, even after the stupid crap about cannibalism I babbled about. Even with us being strangers.
My stomach writhes, more from my shame at my word vomit than the usual kind it usually squirms from.
Itadori doesn’t need me to reassure him, won’t Fushiguro talk to him about this very topic later on? Have I stolen an important bonding experience in my inability to shut up?
Saving Itadori’s life is one thing, messing up the foundations of vital friendships is something else entirely.
On top of what I said earlier making my stomach uneasy, there’s the Cursed energy. Itadori’s, to be exact.
There is something deeply unsettling about the aura that hangs about Itadori.
It’s not too difficult to believe that someone might attempt to kill him, if only to be rid of that heavy pressure screaming a predator is watching you.
Sorcerers don’t strike me as particularly stable types. I wonder how long it will be before my supposition will be actual reality, leaving me as the bodyguard to deal with it.
I puff out my cheeks to hold back my sigh.
What a pain planning is.
“Are you okay?”
First Kugisaki, now Itadori. Looking at me with concern in those honey eyes.
It’s a good sign, that worry. Shows that the rising generation will have empathy where the current rulers of jujutsu society do now, if it isn't stamped out of them first.
Right now, that empathy is only a pain.
I pull my hand free of his. Make a show of rubbing my belly.
“I’m fine. Just-”
His eyes light on my hand, taking the message I intended from there. “You hungry? I think there might be something from the kitchen we can snag!”
“Uh-”
Too late. He grabs my hand again, pulling me along. Tugging me to what looks like a lounge area of some kind.
There, his fellow students are already present. Waiting. Waiting for their friend that I’ve delayed, I duck my head to hide the flush rising up through my neck.
“About time you showed up, Itadori!” Kugisaki proclaims, arms folded over her chest.
“Oops, I was just inviting Uehara-chan to have some snacks with us!” Itadori gestures at the table where piles of food await. Onigiri, senbei, taiyaki, and so much more. All snack foods, whoa.
I look at the table. Gulp.
“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” Fushiguro says politely. “Especially if you’re not hungry.”
Yeah. That’d be nice.
But the problem isn’t that I’m not hungry.
The problem is that I am hungry.
I’m always hungry, always starving and drooling like a dog at any food placed before me.
Does it fill me? No. I stay hungry.
I can gorge and gorge myself on anything that can be remotely considered food, but never be truly filled. Like I have hollow legs, I think I’ve heard other people calling that kind of phenomenon?
Hungry as I am, it’s inevitable what occurs.
I sit down. Reach for the closest onigiri to start and go from there. Eat and eat and eat, all the snacks offered up.
Disgusting, my mother calls it, lip curling, the way I shove food in my face. I always try to eat nicer, slower, for her, but it never seems enough. It’s so hard to tell what’s slower when even my fastest speed isn’t quick enough for my hunger.
From the disgusted sneer on Kugisaki’s face, the pinch in Fushiguro’s and Itadori’s wide eyes... I’m still eating too fast. Too monstrous.
I gulp my last mouthful of rice. Loud. Too loud.
“Sorry, I’m just...”
“Hungry,” Itadori finishes for me, softly. Softer than I deserve.
I nod, averting my eyes from the three. I don’t need to see their faces. I already know what they think of me.
(Disgusting. Pig. )
My phone buzzes from where I’ve placed it on the table, saving me from my shame. Don’t want to fish around in my bra before these strangers, that’s right.
I glance at the screen. A text.
-hey do you wanna come over now? ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜
From Kirara-chan.
Oh.
“I have an appointment.”
Rise from the table, get out of here. Before any of the students can question me too much.
I need to purge all this food, anyway.
Good thing Kirara-chan won’t mind if I show up a little late after a quick bathroom trip. She’s nice like that.
~
Kirara Hoshi lies in the background of Gachinko Fight Club. It’s not a role she minds, rather it’s one that she personally prefers.
Kin can take the spotlight, as boss and bookie alike! She likes doing the numbers in the background, making sure the security holds up, all of the small details. It’s like when she was figuring out the binding vows for her technique all over again.
So she’s not a face that many know at the fight club. Definitely not one to be pointed out to newcomers to notice and talk about.
Which leads Hoshi having absolutely no idea how a middle schooler, currently standing before her, tracked her down and is here in the first place.
“My name is Uehara Mitsuru.” The kid bows, so very formal in her sailor uniform. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She has some Cursed energy, this kid, enough to get scouted for Jujutsu Tech. Probably enough to have some connection to this world, to hear about Gachinko.
But. More than that.
Hoshi has no idea what a middle schooler is doing here, let alone wanting to talk to her, but it’s best to tell her to leave. Because there’s nothing she would want from a deviant, right. Best not to ruin her future sorcerer chances or whatever.
“Uehara-cha-”
“Uh, um, excuse me!” The kid interrupts, raising a hand. “Could you use kun for me? Like I’m a boy instead of a girl, that kind of kun?”
Like I’m a boy... Hoshi’s eyes get a little bigger. Realizing.
Oh, oh.
“I’m okay with being chan to everyone else, if I can be kun to at least one person.”
The kid won’t meet Hoshi’s eyes, too focused on twisting her fingers together.
His fingers together, poor thing.
Hoshi remembers that pain, how much it’s shaped her life. Even before her personal realization, from how everyone else knew that she was simply...different.
It’s funny how society is so determined that lies are the best way to go, that if you’re not fitting the mold, you just lie that you are.
And by funny Hoshi means awful.
Even sorcerer society is like that and is even worse in some ways about it than the mainstream public world is.
She never outed herself before leaving Jujutsu Tech for a reason, didn’t she?
But here she is. Being herself. Bright enough that another like her has come to her and outed themselves. Himself.
(Wanting not to be alone in the world.)
“Alright, Uehara-kun, we have a deal. You’re a boy whenever you’re here with us.”
Uehara-kun, in response, smiles. Big and wide.
That smile...
Hoshi’s never seen anything brighter.
She wants to see it again, she realizes as said smile quickly fades from the kid’s face. A face that squishes up into obvious worry.
“But, um, you’ll be busy, won’t you? I don’t want to interrupt anything going on for you.”
“No, that’s alright, come over whenever,” Hoshi says firmly. It’s not like she’s going to school anymore, her time is free.
“But...” He puffs out his cheeks, looking young. Nervous. Needing some kind of guideline.
“I can text you when I’m free, how ‘bout that?” She waves her phone.
“Oh!” Uehara-kun brightens at that. “Yes, that’s a good idea, just let me know when to come over!”
Whenever, like Hoshi said. But she supposes they’ll stick to this texting invite for right now. Until she can convince the kid that coming over whenever he wants is fine. Okay, one step at a time.
Of course, it’s proooobably not super great to have a middle schooler here. She was about to tell Uehara-kun to leave earlier because of that.
But deviants...they have to stick together in this world.
Hoshi can’t tell him to leave knowing that.
There’s something she’s forgetting...she taps at her lips before she suddenly realizes.
“Oh, I need to talk to Kin about this!”
Wouldn’t that be exciting!
“Would you like to meet him?”
Uehara-kun nods. “If you don’t think he’ll mind.”
Hoshi can’t help but smile. “Of course he won’t.”
Because why else would he be her friend?
~
Sukuna remembers hunger.
If nothing else, he recalls the feeling of a gnawing beast in his belly, threatening to turn his stomach inside out from the lack. Desperation unlike any other that drove him to gnaw at his own unnatural limbs, at least until he can scavenge something else up to feast off of.
It is a time he never returns to, once he comes into his strength.
He never starved again. Will never starve again.
But the hunger, that want ...it remained.
Sukuna has always been hungry.
Only Uraume ever understood that, fought back that hunger temporarily in their particularly skilled cooking of whatever Sukuna demanded. Whether that be Curse or human or anything else passing by.
A hunger that he always considered a result of his unnatural body. Of flesh and bone.
Yet it seems that his hunger is something soul-deep, for the reincarnation of his twin to have that hunger as well.
The signs are not hard to miss, beyond the very visual effect of the reincarnate shoving food into its face. Cursed energy, the reincarnate’s cursed energy, rises and crests in response to the bites of food. Rising to burn that food, falling at its lack.
Sukuna hums, leaning back against his throne.
How curious.
How unique, to see a personal quality of his from the outside.
In a body that isn’t even of a man, for that matter!
No doubt they call his twin weaker for being a woman, treating it as weaker in turn. Humans haven’t changed that much over a thousand years, no matter what his vessel attempts to brag.
“I will eat you, and correct those slights against me.”
Against us.
In jujustu, twins are considered one being rather than two parts of a whole. Power meant for one individual becomes naturally weakened, split between two separate people instead. One restricted by Heaven and the other Cursed by their blood.
Which of those two options he should have been, Sukuna does not know. Nor does he care to know, for it does not matter, two become one. One so complete that the act of conjunction was not realized for the longest time. For years.
Only when he learned the darkest depths of jujutsu, far more than any other, did Sukuna learn that truth: that he had been a twin. Ate his other half long before birth, combined the inhuman strength of a Heavenly Restriction with an overwhelming Cursed Technique. Survived all the world threw at him.
And in those actions, became the Strongest in the world.
For all his boasting on the matter in the face of various accusations, to himself alone, Sukuna will admit this truth: his devouring of his twin was an accident. An act of desperation to survive in a womb that could not support them both.
Truly, anyone could guess that truth if not their own conviction that Sukuna was evil from the start. Evil, as in doing whatever he desired with the weak.
“Ha! Sorcerers, Curses, humans, they’re all the same. No matter how they brag and separate themselves.”
Only he stands above them, in their weakling squabbles. Only he alone rules over this world.
Sukuna and twin unborn, forever intertwined as the two faced monster. Unable to be anything other than the King of Curses. Together.
Yet...
The impossible occurred. A vow sworn, to carry Sukuna into the future where promised strong foes awaited him. A vow that could not carry all of his power as it was, but could carry that power in different pieces.
Who could have guessed that the division of his power, from one into twenty, would have resulted in the separation of two souls that were once one? Allowing that neverborn twin, that devoured twin, to slip away into the eternal wheel.
( Away from Sukuna. Leaving him alone. )
Bone crunches under his suddenly tightening grip. Shards fall off to splash into blood waters below.
Kenjaku, in every aspect of their repulsive nature, most likely glorified in the revelation that Sukuna’s twin reincarnated. Enjoyed the chance to sleep with said twin far too much. Just for the chance to hold something over the King of Curses’ head, no doubt, Sukuna does not think for a second that this vessel of his relied on such an act to be made.
“Disgusting. Always so disgusting.”
Sukuna should tear that Curse user from limb to limb for their audacity and one day, he will. When this vessel bows before him and the promised battles are won, Sukuna will keep that bloody oath.
He folds his fingers together. Thinking.
Onto other matters. Such as the nature of his own sealing and breaking.
A shattered vase, even one repaired in the manner of kintsugi, will always be weaker than a vase never broken.
Of course, it’s not a difference in strength that Sukuna finds himself concerned about. His full strength will overcome even he who dares to call himself ‘the Strongest’ in this era.
Merely that his twin’s soul is whole where his currently...is not. The difference in ‘wholeness’ is the most likely reason for why his vessel can hold him back.
That difference is why he watches for now, rather than acting right away to take back what is his.
Once he regains all of the other pieces of soul and power, he’ll consume his twin. His ignorant twin who has no idea what fate lies ahead.
“We will be whole once more.” He bares his fangs at the world. “We will be one. ”
His Domain gapes like the open mouth it always has been.
When this idiotic boy makes his mistake, and he inevitably will, Sukuna will be there. Ready with a binding vow to tilt odds in his favor.
Waiting.
~
My first encounter with a finger of Sukuna sucked, to say the least.
Because of course the Finger Bearer Itadori lost his hand to isn’t the first one I’ve run into. Why would it be? Be stupid of me, to go into that fight not knowing if I’d win. Though Finger Bearers may be on the weaker end of Special Grades, they tend to attract other Curses. And that is a different pain entirely, killing a Finger Bearer only for some other nearby Curse to pick a finger up. Mess up a once predictable situation into something definitely not so.
Do I sound like I’m speaking from experience? Maybe so.
Because my first encounter with Sukuna’s fingers...is a mess.
The Finger Bearer is not a problem. None whatsoever. Put up a barrier, sink into the depths, complete.
Yet instead of remaining nice and still, the finger goes flying. Flung through the air, whirling around like a demented windmill.
“No no no! Get back here!” I jump for it. Uselessly.
Falling into the grasp of one of the Finger Bearer’s nearby hanger-ons.
Gulp.
It’s a Curse that doesn’t seem to have decided whether it should be a spinning top or a centipede. Whatever’s going on there, it’s a pointy violent cone with too many legs spiked out of its side. A round mouth on top chewing its new treat, expanding into something much larger than me.
About to burst from a certain finger’s donation.
“Oh God.”
Hm. I consider. Not strong enough language to chase away the gritty feeling in my gut at the sight before me.
“Oh fuck. ”
Better.
“Fuck!” I repeat, with spirit, as the newly upgraded Curse decides to whirl itself in my direction. Ducking gets me out of the way, but only just.
“Hey, I don’t need a haircut!”
I just did my hair too! Against this Curse, what do I do?
Breaking barriers and bonds doesn’t really mean much against an actual physical Curse. Also, too soon after my last raised barrier, I’ll lose control, nothing in my way-!
“BRRRRRRNG!” Slicing leg blades!
“Right, I should stop thinking and start-” I kick out my leg, pushing against the Curse’s base as hard as I can, “- acting!”
It wibble wobbles but it doesn’t fall down! Doesn’t fall down but my Curse energy-reinforced kick has redirected it in the opposite direction. Not for long, it’ll whirl back, but it gives me some air.
Enough for me to trace a line on the concrete with blood dripping down my hand.
Can’t do a full barrier, but something less intense?
I can do that.
I smile as the Curse bounces against the invisible line I’ve drawn between us. Smile and also gasp for breath, for each bounce draws more Cursed energy from me to support that wall between us.
Good thing it’s stupid. I make my next move. Take a page out of Itadori’s book, power coursing through my bloody fist.
Next time the Curse shoots itself at the invisible wall, I break the wall.
“Come and get me!”
The momentum of the Curse drives it onto my fist. Through my fist. Killing it almost instantly as I force Cursed energy through its core.
Tearing out the finger for a second time.
“RRRRRRNNNNAAAAGGG!”
I’m covered in purple Curse goo. Again, for the second time.
I glare at the culprit of all this mess, a certain stupid Cursed finger laying all innocently in a pile of quickly dissolving bug mush.
“That was harder than it should’ve been.”
I should probably get myself some Cursed Tools, shouldn’t I? Follow in the steps of Toji, he didn’t do too bad until Gojo obliterated him. Plans for the future.
Shrugging, I bend over to pick up the finger of Ryomen Sukuna.
A mistake.
Something tings.
-TWIN-
-comeherenow-
I know, like how bees pick which flowers to suck nectar out of, like how birds know where to fly for winter, that to consume this finger would be my doom.
No more me. Only Ryomen Sukuna.
(Rotting bodies, peeling skin, the taste of human flesh in my mouth-)
The finger nearly drops from my hand. Nearly. I catch it just in time. Steady my now shaking fingers, when did they start shivering like that? So hard too.
I’m not going to eat this finger anytime soon, so stop shaking! Stop it!
I glare at my traitorous fingers as I fish out my phone to report my success to my boss of this mission. Stupid as it was.
He picks up after the third time I try his number.
“Got the cursed object. Exactly what you thought it was,” I report. Keeping this vague in case the elders wise up enough to listen in on their Strongest’s calls. Not that I’m expecting that anytime soon. But maybe Kenjaku would go for it, I don’t really know where he stands on the modern technology situation-
Wait, Gojo’s talking to me! Listen!
“
Perfect,”
Gojo particularly purrs in my ear,
“Now, bring it personally to me and I’ll take care of it.”
Beep. Hangs up on me without waiting for an answer, as rude as ever.
To him rather than Jujutsu Tech, huh.
What if...?
My eyes examine the crumpled, purple flesh. Stinking of hate and rage.
This could be the finger that Gojo hides away so Itadori never faces actual execution. The last and twentieth finger that leads to Sukuna’s downfall.
Wouldn’t that be something, if that’s the truth? I hope so, as one corner of my mouth tilts upwards into an almost smile.
I’d like to think I’m supporting something that turns out alright in the end. Even if I’m not there to see it.
~
I meet up with Kirari Hoshi in the backrooms of the fight club. Private rooms, where she chills while Hakari-san hypes up the crowd and fighters alike.
The shadows under her panda eyes are less deep than usual. Sleeping better.
Which means...
“How’s Kin been doing?”
Kirara-chan hums, a light smile on her face. The same smile she always gets on her face talking about Hakari-san. Sweet and soft.
I hope I get a smile about someone like that one day. Not like Mother and Father who always avoid being in the same room together whenever not required for their negotiations.
“Same as ever. A few sorcerers even worked through the brackets far enough to give him a good fight!”
“Whoa, that’s pretty impressive,” I agree. Hakari-san doesn’t get to fight many people at his own club, not many that manage to build up his ‘fever’ that is. Not when he’s mostly focused on the gambling bit of it.
“How are you?”
Awful. Same as always.
“I met Itadori Yuji for the first time.”
At Kirara-chan’s blank look, I correct to, “Sukuna’s vessel.”
Hate that’s all people know him by, he deserves better than that, but that’s just the nature of things.
If they knew the truth about me, that’s all they’d use to refer to me too.
“Oh?” She leans dramatically into her palm, scooting a touch closer. “What’s he like?”
I consider that pink haired boy, who I tried to comfort, mind whirling for the right words. To piece everything together into Itadori Yuji.
“Responsible. Too responsible, I guess. Makes him sweet, though.”
“Ah, sounds like you like him. Is that true, Uehara-kun?”
“I could like him,” I say my thoughts out loud. “I guess I know why everyone hates him. He feels creepy, with Sukuna’s energy poking out.”
“Creepy?”
“Creepy, like spiders running up my spine.” My entire body dramatically shudders at the thought.
“That’s creepy all right, to get you like that,” Kirara-chan agrees, leaning back out of my face. “You didn’t even flinch when that terrible ghost Curse got dragged in, remember?”
“That’s because ghosts aren’t scary,” I scoff.
Her hand waves through the air at me to dismiss my claim. Clearly remembering how I jumped three feet off the couch one night while watching The Ring with her and Hakari-san.
“You’re such a boy!” she laughs. “Always puffing yourself up to be braver, Kin’s the same way!”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, I’m totally not scared of ghosts!” I fake-scowl at her, to hide the leap in my chest at her referring to me as a boy.
“Sure, sure.”
She gestures to the bathroom. “You wanna change now?”
I smile back at her. “Yep! Thanks!”
The door slides shut behind me with a rusty click. Into a room that more feels grimy than actually is grimy. But when your parents make triple digits salaries, everything outside their standards is going to be that way, huh.
Gray countertop with a sink. Corner toilet. Wall to floor mirror. Simple. Clean.
Kirara-chan’s been kind enough to keep some clothes for me that I can change into, stuff that makes me look more like the boy she calls me.
Leather jacket, some rugged jeans, a faded print T-shirt, I wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff used to be hers when she was younger. Plus some steel toed boots that fit my feet perfectly, yay!
As I dress, I think. Think and think and think.
It’s places like Gachinko Fight Club that help me realize how much bigger the world of sorcery is outside of the JJK manga. A manga that focused on the big picture, of changing the world through a specific lens of a few. A very powerful few. Yet there’s so much more than that.
Sorcerers that learn through an unbroken chain of masters and apprentices, never once stepping foot into Jujutsu Tech, either Tokyo or Kyoto. Some call themselves ‘spirit mediums’ instead of sorcerers and that’s an entirely different can of worms to open, arguments on what makes Curses specifically what they are and what can make a Curse a ghost.
Curse users exist, of course, but the vast majority are Curse users in that they’re not interested in exorcizing Curses under the current establishment. There’s those crazy serial killer types and scammers, of course, but not as many as I expected.
In the end...
Most people with cursed energy that they can use are just that, people. Not particularly more evil or more good than anyone else.
Everyone fights alone and I suppose that’s why sorcery is the way it is.
Stupid, of course. If sorcerers teamed up, there’d be a higher rate of exorcism on those more powerful Curses.
But apparently, because the super duper powerful sorcerers are too dangerous to work with, no one else can work together. Again, stupid.
...It’s probably a shitty Clan thing. Fucking Tengen.
I almost knock over the room’s mirror as I slam my boots on, rattling the old dusty thing far too much.
Tat-tat!
“Okay in there, Uehara-kun?” Her voice comes muffled through the door.
I raise mine in reply. “Fine! Just a little clumsy.”
Wash my hands, check how I look- hmmm. My eyes go up and down, critically taking in every detail.
The white t-shirt is loose enough and my breasts small enough that I look pretty flat. I’ve woven my hair in some braids that I learned off of the internet that I can easily hide under a hat. Braids that just look like lumpy head bumps from a distance too.
Slick black leather jacket, loose jeans over my boots, nice.
Every other detail about me...
Small? Still need that growth spurt.
High pitched voice? That’s alright, just young enough to not have cracked yet.
I look great. A punk down to the bone.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” I assure the sad looking pile of my school uniform stacked on the counter. I always will be. I have to be.
Clothes on, braided hair tucked up under a red baseball cap, I head out into the weekend crowds after shooting a farewell wave in Kirara-chan’s direction. Always super busier than normal, it’s the weekend after all! Everyone’s so stuck up by the pit, hyping themselves up another fight gets prepped for.
Leaving me, just a normal boy, pushing through the said crowds.
The way the world reacts to a teenage boy is so very different from a teenage girl.
Instead of being asked what a girl like me is doing in a place like this, I get what appears to be nods of solidarity from men as I wander around.
Supporting me in my exploration, showing how manly I am to be in this fight club on my own.
Of course, there are other blips that a girl wouldn’t go through.
Mutterings of ‘punk’ and ‘delinquent’ follow me about, accusations of crimes I haven’t committed thrown at me. Because being a lone teen boy apparently means you’re a criminal in this day and age.
I tug at my leather jacket.
...Guess my clothes don’t exactly help that impression either, huh?
I raise my chin to meet detractors with a steady eye. Won’t blink, enough to get them to look away first, ashamed. Yeah, that’s right. Look away like the cowards you are.
Don’t come here if you can’t walk the walk.
“Hey Uehara!”
Speaking of walking the walk, here’s the one guy who does that and more. Of course he can, he’s the Restless Gambler, isn’t he?
“Gambler-san!” I greet back immediately, raising my hand to wave fervently in his direction. He nods back, one hand combing through his slicked back bleached hair.
Hakari Kinji, owner of Gachinko Fight Club, third year Jujutsu Tech student and Kirara-chan’s best friend.
...if they aren’t something more, I’m not certain about that yet.
Around me, some watchers gain a speculative look in their eyes. Newcomers, no doubt, enlightened by my connection to the club’s main bookie. Some might be dirty enough, or desperate enough, to try cornering me for a ‘boost’ to their bets’ cash flow.
Not that’ll do them any good, hn. Humans aren’t any threat to me.
“What’d you think of the last fight?” Hakari-san asks me, falling into step besides me as we move away from the crowds.
My fingers tap together, as I pretend to think.
“There could have been a little more blood.”
“Reall- Hey! You didn’t even watch!” A finger jabs in my direction.
I cackle. “What gave it away?”
“Brat.” Hakari shakes his head at me. “No idea how Hoshi can put up with you.”
“Same to you.”
“So, what’s up? School as boring as ever?” He weaves his fingers behind his head.
“I think you’d like the new students at Jujutsu Tech. Two definitely got the fever.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to go on. I oblige him.
“One’s got this hammer and nails-” I mime holding a hammer, “-and she goes absolutely nuts when fighting Curses with ‘em and it’s cool to see-”
He’s...Listening to me. Being with me.
(Not leaving me alone.)
Little things like this...
I just might want to live past the Kenjaku’s plots after all.