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Yuji opens the door slowly, the silence in the empty house something that made him feel even more unwelcome and nervous as he fiddles with house keys that aren’t his. They almost seem to burn his skin.
He scratches the scar on his mouth, willing it to stop itching as he hesitates to take a step into the house. He goes to move forward but stops short, furrowing his brows in frustration at his reluctance.
“Most, if not all, jujutsu sorcerers have a will prepared for when they die.” he remembers Gojo saying once, “We’re always prepared, death at a young age as a sorcerer is almost inevitable, so we often update our will if we want to leave anything behind for a loved one.” Gojo had paused, “Maybe those loved ones can carry out our legacy.”
When he had gotten the news that he had been included in Nanami’s will he was more than shocked, he had been given the keys to his house and left to do whatever he wanted with them.
Ijichi had offered to bring him over to the residence but Yuji had politely declined. The possibility of another person being able to see his deteriorating mental state was terrifying, being in the house of a deceased loved one always made it more obvious.
The feeling is almost familiar, and he feels like he's having déjà vu when he stands terrifyingly still in front of the entrance to the house.
This reminds him of when he went to retrieve his grandfather's belongings after he died, yet, it feels completely different.
He's not here to bring anything back yet. Just to look at the stuff that has been left for him and to prepare himself mentally.
He takes a deep breath and steps into the house, immediately startling when Sukuna speaks up.
“If you don’t like being here, you should’ve saved him.” he speaks with that mocking tone he always uses, “It is your own fault that we’re here.”
Yuji lets out a huff of irritation, closing the door behind him with more force than necessary. The loud bang it makes only gives way for a burdensome silence to settle, and for once, he wishes Sukuna would speak up again.
He slowly steps away from his spot to check out the rest of the house, his footsteps sounding way too loud in his ears, almost giving him a headache.
He fiddles with the key in his hand to settle his nerves as he glances around the room, the living room is organized, something he had expected, yet, as he looks around, there are small telltale signs that someone had been here not long ago. Though, he suspects no one has entered the house since the Shibuya accident, two months ago.
There’s a bookmarked book on the small coffee table, which, despite feeling slightly bad about it, he doesn’t bother to read the title of; and, besides it is an empty wine glass. His eyes are then drawn to the bookshelf that’s almost completely filled with books.
He steps closer to the bookshelf, reading over some of the titles to see if any ring a bell, but none did. Though, he knows he’d read the entirety of the collection if Nanami had recommended them.
He turns around and spots the kitchen, his feet moving by themselves as he walks towards it. The first thing he notices as soon as he walks in is the bread that’s sitting on the counter. He scrunches up his nose and picks it up, trying to squeeze it only to find it’s as hard as a rock at this point.
He looks around for the trash can to throw it out, and just as he drops the stale bread in it, a thought comes to mind; “Should I clean out the kitchen? There’s food that’s probably gone bad at this point.”
Sukuna, helpful as ever (note the sarcasm) gives his own thoughts on the situation, “What are you, his fucking butler or something?”
Yuji throws his head back with a loud groan, expressing his distaste. He takes it back, he wishes Sukuna would shut up forever.
He slaps the mouth on his cheek away, just in time as Sukuna is unable to escape the assault. He earns a bunch of swear words in return.
So, just to spite Sukuna, he finds a trash bag and immediately starts cleaning out the fridge.
Sukuna curses him out silently, words jumbled together in frustrated murmurs and the joy of pissing off the curse currently residing in his body almost makes him forget the primary reason for his visit.
Almost.
The sudden sense of numbness that overwhelms him seems to shock even Sukuna quiet.
He finishes the rest of the cleaning in relative silence, tying up the trash bag and leaving it by the front door so he remembers to throw it out.
When he turns back to face the now familiar living room it dawns upon him that he has no idea where the stuff left for him is.
Well. Fuck.
He looks around nervously for any hints but all doors are closed. He really, really, doesn’t want to invade Nanami’s privacy by snooping around but otherwise, he’ll never find what Nanami left for him and he could be leaving something important, with emotional value or not, behind.
So he sucks it up with a deep breath and opens the first door he sees, taking his phone out of his pocket for the list he wrote down so he didn’t bring anything that wasn’t for him back.
He comes face to face with a clean bathroom and immediately closes the door again because there’s definitely nothing in there for him.
Instead, he turns to the door beside the bathroom and opens it, more hesitantly than he had with the bathroom. He’s met with a bedroom, bed made, closet open, and a pair of reading glasses on the bedside table.
He looks at the open list he made on the notes app on his phone, searching for anything that might be inside the bedroom. Looking at the list, however, makes him feel dizzy. Like it’s confirmation that-
He feels his stomach turning and bile coming up his throat.
He quickly moves to the bathroom, stumbling along the way and almost dropping a lamp to the floor.
When he doubles over the toilet nothing comes out except spit until his stomach spasms and he pukes into the toilet bowl.
“That’s disgusting.” Sukuna sneers.
Yuji waits until his stomach has calmed down to speak, “Says the cannibal.” He huffs out, wiping his mouth clean.
“I’m not a cannibal.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” Yuji mutters, standing up slowly as another wave of dizziness hits him, and he almost doubles over to see if he’ll throw up again.
He walks with heavy steps towards the sink to wash his hands and mouth, doing his best to ignore the black spots in his vision.
He goes back to the bedroom, gripping onto the wall shamefully for balance.
If the feeling of complete sadness and frustration weren’t enough already, now he’s more ashamed than anything. “It’s better than throwing up on the floor.” He tries to reason with himself, yet the feeling of shame persists.
He looks down at his phone, which he had dropped on the floor, and he prays to whatever deity is out there that the screen isn’t cracked.
He sighs in relief when he sees it is completely intact. He turns it back on to read the list again, hands trembling and the sickening feeling in his stomach persistent.
He sits on the bed in case he does faint. Reading over the short list with shaking hands, he looks up at the open closet.
•Every item of clothing on the left side of the closet;
He stares at the open closet for what feels like hours. Despite it very clearly being an inanimate object it feels like it's daring him to take even a single step towards it.
He, like the coward he feels like he is, ducks his head. Taking deep breaths to try and calm the aching in his chest, to try and ease the tears burning at his eyes.
He straightens his posture and throws his head back with a sniffle, eyes wide, brows furrowed and a frown tugging at his lips.
He stands up as fast as he can. Black spots blind his vision for a moment as he marches directly to the closet, opening the left side wider to peer inside.
He doesn’t know what he expected, he’d just opened the closet as if he was about to fight off a curse. For some reason, his brain couldn’t comprehend the sight of comfy-looking winter clothing.
It made his heart start palpitating and he knew he needed to calm down, his breathing turning irregular and vision distorting. It didn’t look real. It didn’t feel real.
He looks at his hands, tries to clench them but even that doesn’t feel right.
What was he doing here?
His head felt fuzzy, he felt like he was watching everything happen from a different perspective and it didn’t feel right.
What was it that Shoko had said?
Who even is Shoko?
He brings one of his hands up and puts it on top of the other, the motion feeling uncoordinated and unfamiliar, then, he pinches the back of his hand as hard as he can.
He focuses on it, he tries to. But it’s not stopping.
His heart beats loudly in his ears.
Why isn’t it stopping?
He pinches himself harder, panic burning in his chest with desperation, his nails almost cut through his skin.
“Brat, calm the fuck down.”
Yuji takes a sharp deep breath at the voice, immediately letting go of the back of his hand as he starts coughing when he chokes on his breath.
“Talk-!” he gets out before coughing again.
“What?” the curse sounds confused, a certain tone underlining his words which he can’t recognize.
Yuji keeps coughing for a few seconds, stammering out what sounds like they should be words in between the hacking.
“Ke- Keep, talk- talking.” He uses the closet to support his head. “Please.” he rasps out, almost on his knees with the force of his coughing.
The curse stays quiet and for a moment Yuji fears the worst. Because why the fuck would Sukuna help him? He’s proven before that he can and will just stand back and watch him suffer at any given opportunity. Why would now be any different?
He’s shocked when Sukuna starts quietly speaking about Yuji’s friends, what his first impression had been of them, which one he liked best (Megumi), and which one he despised the most (Gojo).
He starts taking deep breaths as he listens to Sukuna talking, tapping his finger on the closet to set a rhythm he can follow. He counts the clothing folded inside the closet at least a dozen times before he starts calming down.
He slowly crouches so he’s squatting on the floor, bringing his hands to his face to cover it as more shaky breaths leave him.
Things don’t feel quite right yet but he’ll be damned if he has to stay in this house longer than planned. Megumi would probably come looking for him if he took too long and didn’t warn him about it.
His hands are shaking but at least he feels a bit better. His body feels extremely cold though, he’s drenched in a cold sweat and shivering so hard it almost feels like his blood had stopped flowing through his body. He speaks from experience.
He looks at the winter clothing left for him in the closet and hesitates. He hates himself for even considering wearing any of them.
“You're a fucking idiot." Sukuna sneers, and Yuji finally registers he had stopped talking when he had sunk to the floor.
"Unprovoked!" Yuji shoots back shakily, slightly offended.
"He left this clothing for you, why the fuck wouldn't you wear it?"
Yuji pauses at that, staring at an especially comfy-looking jumper as if it had personally harassed him.
He wouldn't say the reason out loud, that'd just confirm the reason why he's where he is right now. It'd confirm what had happened. So, no, he wouldn't say it.
He stands back up with a full-bodied shiver and moves to sit back on the bed to look at the list again. Receiving an exaggerated and frustrated sigh from Sukuna.
He skillfully ignores the curse and opens the list again, taking a little less than two minutes to read the short sentence because his hand was shaking so much.
•Every file/document in the office;
He stands back up on unsteady legs to look for the office, going straight to the door at the end of the hallway just because his gut told him there’s something important in the room.
He’s (un)pleasantly surprised when he finds that he has found the office without even trying. The room is lit only by the sunset coming through the window opposite the door, giving it a pleasant orange hue that calms Yuji’s nerves to an extent.
There are papers stacked on top of the desk which now apparently belong to him. That thought leaves a bad aftertaste in his mouth.
He slowly closes the door behind him, not wanting to taint the calming aura of the room with the cold and unforgiving outside world. He clenches and unclenches his hands as he walks further into the room; steps still unsteady and head still fuzzy.
He might faint in here.
He picks up some of the papers on the desk hesitantly, hands shaky and a knot in his throat. The papers are nothing he actually understands. “Adult stuff..” his brain supplies.
He goes through the papers one by one, checking to see if there was anything of importance that Nanami had wanted him to see. Then, a certain phrase catches his attention.
There, in big, bold letters on top of the paper is written “Report Of Adoption”. He squints at the letters, willing his brain to stop playing tricks on him because what the hell?
His eyes clip to the phone sitting on the table, a little screen on it showing new voicemails Nanami hadn’t listened to.
“Listen to the voicemails.” Sukuna orders.
Yuji jumps in surprise, the calming sense he had been feeling completely gone along with the silence. “What? No!”
“Well, who else is going to listen to them?” Sukuna sarcastically asks, sounding so annoyed he might try taking control over his body just to do as he wants.
Yuji clamps his mouth shut, actually considering doing as the curse says just to satiate his curiosity and to shut Sukuna up for at least ten minutes. He looks back at the adoption paper in his hands, confusion clouding his mind more than the annoyance aimed at the curse.
“There might be answers in the voicemails. Just do it.” Sukuna presses on. “What do you have to lose?”
Yuji buries his face on the stack of papers he’s currently holding, hands shaking so much he might as well be freezing. He takes five deep breaths before putting the stack of papers down irritatedly.
He clicks on the pound key of the phone with frustration “It’s not going to work, most phones need a pin to listen to voicemails.” the phone beeps but stays silent otherwise, “See?”
“1770.” Sukuna suggests boringly, “For someone who people see as smart, he sure is stupid for leaving stuff like this out.”
Yuji blinks, “What?”
“The pin, it’s on the desk,” he explains slowly as if he were talking to a child.
Yuji looks at a blue (greenish in the orange light) post-it note with a cursive “1770” written on it. He hesitantly clicks the pound key again before putting what he hopes is not the pin in.
“You have one new message.” a female voice speaks up before the phone beeps and Gojo’s voice is filtering through.
“Oi, Nanami!” Gojo’s voice sounds cheerful and Yuji instantly feels guilty for listening to the voicemail. “I know it took a while for me to answer, but you know how busy I am!” Yuji just knows Nanami would’ve sighed at the tone.
“Anyways, I’d say ask Yuji-kun around March, y’know, with it being during his birthday and all.” Yuji freezes momentarily at the words, the cold sensation in his body getting stronger ten-fold. What? Why? Questions cloud his mind and his confusion doubles to the point where it’s semi-irritating.
“And I know, I know. “Is he even up for adoption?”, “Child Protective Services would’ve come for him if he were!” All great points, my friend! Technically he is under my care right now. How? Law fears me, that’s how!” Yuji would’ve snorted at his teacher’s smugness if the words spoken weren’t currently registering in his brain.
His brain can barely catch up when Gojo keeps speaking “Of course, the process of me giving custody of him to you might take a while, and we still need him to say yes, which I’m about ninety-nine percent sure he’ll say. But! Those are just details! Things will go well and you’ll legally be Yuji’s father.” There’s a pause, “Or at least legally to a degree, I guess.”
Gojo speaks with a happy tilt to his voice, “I know you want to give him a good and semi-normal life until his execution and I support that decision!” Gojo’s voice suddenly turns sour, “But I need you to be fully aware that the higher-ups will very likely see you as a threat for taking custody of Sukuna’s vessel.”
Yuji’s stomach turns at the prospect of Nanami being in danger because of him, “I don’t know what you’re planning to do after adopting him, but whether you decide to keep being a sorcerer or quitting and pursuing something else. I’ll support you every step of the way.”
Gojo’s voice strains and it sounds like he’s stretching, “Well, I’ll help you out with the legal process and all next week or the one after. With the mission in Shibuya, we’re all gonna be pretty busy.” There’s a yawn, “Well, talk to you later, Nanami!”
The phone beeps. “Voicemail over.”
He stares at the phone wide-eyed. There’s a ringing in his ears and his chest feels both extremely empty and extremely full all at once. The fuzz in his head has turned into static and his body is cold. So cold.
He grabs onto the desk for support as the world sways around him and under his feet. Spit is accumulating in his mouth and he can feel bile burning in his throat.
He drops to his knees when his legs can’t support his weight anymore, hugging himself and putting his forehead on top of the desk for minimal support.
He heaves, sounding more like a wheezing cat than like a human, then he starts coughing so hard it feels like he's about to hack his lungs out.
He covers his mouth with a hard grip to stop the bile from coming out, screwing his eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling he gags into his hands.
Nanami was going to adopt him.
He was going to adopt him. But he's not anymore.
Because he's dead.
He's dead.
Dead.
He's dead and is never coming back.
He will never see Nanami again.
A sob rips itself from deep in his chest and no amount of force and willpower could stop his tears from flowing.
He moves his hands to pull at his hair, anything to stop the absolute agony in his chest. He sobs, scratching at his scalp until his fingers feel damp with droplets of blood.
He gags and heaves between sobs, spit gathering at his mouth as his stomach spasms, preparing to let the little it has inside of it out.
"Fuck!" He grips his hair harder, banging his head on the table in frustration, "FUCK!"
He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough to hurt, he grits his teeth in anger.
"Why? Why? Why? Why?" he gasps to himself, scratching any surface possible just so he has something to do with his hands, "It should've been me. It should've been me!"
Sitting on the floor, he drops his head on his knees, going back to gripping his hair with shaking hands. "I'm sorry.." He nearly whines, guilt and sorrow so strong in his chest he feels like clawing it out.
He was going to be adopted. Nanami had wanted to adopt him, he had wanted him to have a semi-normal life as a teenager his age should. He had wanted to take that responsibility and probably go through the long process of being registered to adopt.
And in the end? It turned out to be useless.
Because now he's gone.
Doesn't he deserve to be happy? Was consuming a special grade cursed object such a sin that there was no chance at happiness for him?
Nanami deserved it too. Nanami deserved to have lived a long life. Not to have it cut short at the age of fucking 27.
He's angry.
Angry at Mahito for killing Nanami.
Angry at the curse who had burned Nanami so badly he probably would've died anyway.
Angry at himself for not being there to stop it. Angry because despite having Nanami and Mahito right in front of him, he still wasn't able to stop it.
Angry at Nanami for leaving him behind.
"Itadori… You've got it from here."
"I don't." He cries "I don't."