Chapter Text
Yuuji’s eyes opened to a bleary scene. He couldn’t see where anyone had gone; all that surrounded him was piles of rubble and dust. He couldn’t move, after everything he’s been through, and this is the moment his body decides that it’s all too much.
Sukuna had defeated Gojo, and even though the curse was weakened, the collected forces of the sorcerers weren’t enough to defeat him. Fushiguro was still being used by Sukuna; he had failed. That wasn’t the worst, though; even with everything that Sukuna had done at this point, he still couldn’t stop himself from feeling the heartbreak and anguish that was left behind within him when Sukuna forcefully transferred himself to Fushiguro’s body.
Going back and forth between feeling both defeated and guilty, Yuuji’s attention finally snapped back to the present when he heard shuffling rubble and what sounded like footsteps. He tried his best to blink away the blur blocking his vision, but it only helped so much. All he could make out was a bulking figure stalking over to him, one that seemed to have two too many arms.
At the realization that it was Sukuna stalking his way towards him, Yuuji was only able to groan as he futilely attempted to move his body, away or towards the man he didn't know. Within a couple of seconds, Sukuna was only a foot away from him, and the only remaining sound was Yuuji’s heavy breath and the sounds of his struggle.
“Hmm, still alive and fighting, are you, brat?”
Yuuji could only slur out what could be called nonsense at the man–or monster he should be saying. With his eyes finally focusing, Yuuji was able to focus his sight on the sickening smirk that Sukuna always seemed to bear when around his ex-vessel.
“Seeing you like this, finally stuck on the ground below me where you belong; all is finally as it should be.” The curse smiled wickedly and barked out a laugh, spitting down at Yuuji.
After a few more seconds of Sukuna’s musing, he finally bent down to pick the boy up, slumping him over his shoulder and turning around, walking back the way he came. All Yuuji could do was struggle in pain, showing any sort of attempt, mostly as a way to make himself feel better about the fact that he didn’t want to fight back, not now anyway. There wasn’t much he could do at this point that he hadn’t already tried; he was completely out of cursed energy, and no matter how hard he willed himself, he couldn’t manage to utilize the reverse curse technique.
All the jostling wasn’t helping Yuuji’s condition, and eventually, he couldn’t keep himself from passing out in the curse’s arms.
When Yuuji woke up, he was in a dark room, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable (not that that said much, squatting in decaying buildings lowered his standards quite a bit). Obviously, he remembered that he had been picked up by the King of Curses and had ended up god knows where. This was a completely new problem that he needed to face, and he would be lying if he said that his mental fortitude wasn’t at rock bottom.
So, Yuuji just sat there. He sat there and lay on what felt like a cushion, or maybe a mattress. For the first time since Shibuya, hell, maybe even since he became a sorcerer, he allowed himself to have a moment to himself. Not a moment to think or plan or come up with his next move, but a moment to just sit and let his mind turn off. He was so tired. Problem after problem, consequence after consequence, Yuuji just couldn’t catch a break.
Shibuya was already a goddamned nightmare; Nanamin was dead, Nobara was.. MIA, and so, so many people had died, all because of him. Then the culling games: Gojo, Higuruma, Choso.
Yuuji shut his eyes again and took a stuttering breath. He had to at least get up, that's what he kept holding onto, at least: just keep moving forward. As he got up, he felt like he had just slept for a week straight, or had been hit by a bus; that was also an apt description. The first thing he did was look down at his body, waiting to see the wounds that awaited him.
Yuuji could see all the effects that consuming his remaining brothers had brought on: his red, almost fin-like arms, the sharp claws. However, he also noticed that he was no longer wounded; the scars he had accumulated over the past weeks remained as a brand, but nothing could have hinted to him just participating in the battle of his life.
That wasn’t all, though. Yuuji finally noticed the change in his cursed energy, noting how, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t release it; all he could do was feel it simmering just below the surface. There were talismans wrapped around his ankles, wrists, and biceps; flashes of very familiar tattoos came to mind.
Deciding that wasn’t the most important thing for now, Yuuji then moved his attention to what he was wearing. Again, you would never be able to tell that he had just been in a brutal fight; his body was completely clean, free of dust and dirt and blood. His uniform was also gone, instead replaced with a red kimono. Yuuji pretended that he didn’t feel his cheeks warm, recalling an off comment he heard from Sukuna once, concerning how he thought Yuuji would look much better in a red kimono rather than his dingy sorcerer uniform.
When Yuuji finally realized that someone must have bathed and changed him, his face went sheet-white. He could only hope that the curse himself wasn’t the one to do it, but not because he was shy about the curse seeing him intimately; he did have to live with the curse watching his every move for months after all.
No, Yuuji was more concerned with what the curse would think when he saw all of the new scars he had accumulated since the two had been separated. What was Yuuji so worried about? Why did he care if the curse saw them? He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was afraid of the curse seeing him as weak, or even weaker than he already thought him to be. He felt embarrassed in a way, and that only made his guilt even worse. He shouldn't want Sukuna's approval.
Oh well, what's done is done, Yuuji wasn’t even sure that Sukuna was the one who did it, and honestly, why would he be? That man–monster didn’t have a single gentle bone in his body that could have led to the clean and cared-for state that Yuuji was in now. Sukuna would probably die before he ever did something like that.
Yuuji decided to stand up and see what situation he was stuck in now. He stumbled a bit at first, having to lean on the wall next to him to let the black spots dancing in his vision fade away. But, eventually, he grounded himself and began moving towards the shoji door that he could very faintly make out in the dark.
But, before he could get more than two steps away from where he was just resting, someone had opened the shoji. Yuuji had to blink his eyes to adjust to the light now filtering into the room, but once he adjusted, he very quickly recognized the bob-adorned monk who had laughed at his demise while flying away with Sukuna.
Uraume, he remembered from a prior conversation with Sukuna. The monk stood there for a second more, letting the silence stretch on for only a moment.
“Good morning, Itadori. I see you are recovering well.”
Yuuji didn’t know what to say. The being that had only just aided in the worst day of his life was now standing in front of him, trying to seem (somewhat) amicable.
“Where am I?” was what Yuuji went with, although the lack of using his voice, along with the dehydration, caused his voice to come out extremely weak.
Uraume didn’t answer him; they simply stared before saying, “Sukuna-sama awaits you for your meal,” before walking away, leaving the door open behind them.
Yuuji just stood there, staring at where they had just been standing, his mind completely blank. He considered his choices; the answer was obvious, but he didn’t want to accept it, at least not without some hesitation.
Yuuji steeled himself, taking a breath before stumbling through the shoji door to follow Uraume.