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“No, don’t do that!”
Yuji snatches Sukuna up before he can go tumbling into the water, the boy flailing wildly for a moment before he turns in Yuji’s grasp and locks all six limbs around him like a mutated koala.
Yuji chuckles.
He pats Sukuna’s back consolingly, knowing full well the kid is playing up the drama threefold to garner more physical contact. Like Yuji would ever deny him a hug in the first place. But working Sukuna up to actively asking for hugs still proves something of a challenge.
“Don’t do that, ‘Kuna,” he repeats seriously, stepping away from the river’s edge until they’re a safe distance away and Yuji’s heart is beating at a normal pace again. “You could get hurt. And the water is cold.”
Sukuna, naturally, doesn’t say anything in response and simply turns his face to tuck his cold nose into the junction between the elder’s neck, causing goosebumps to break out at the sudden dip in temperature.
Yuji’s found the boy to be surprisingly quiet. Whereas his older self had spewed vitriol at any occasion, this version is… not docile, exactly. But Yuji isn’t oblivious enough not to see how strongly Sukuna’s imprinted on him in the short time they’ve known each other. It makes him wonder, not for the first time, if Yuji is the first person in his life to afford him any kindness at all.
According to the few settlements they’d traversed in their pointless traveling, Sukuna is widely regarded as a cursed child, a demon child, living feral in the woods. Feasting on the dead, if some particularly gruesome rumors are to be believed.
With Sukuna’s future reputation it isn’t as unthinkable as he would like, but with the way the kid’s bones are still jutting out a little too prominently for his liking, Yuji wonders whether his taste for human flesh may have developed out of necessity, rather than appetite. For now the kid appears perfectly alright with eating regular food, which Yuji is eternally grateful for. He genuinely doesn’t want to think about what he would have done otherwise.
“Let’s go back. I’m getting hungry.”
Sukuna hums, the sound vibrating through his stomach as his second mouth agrees, pulling another fond chuckle from Yuji’s throat when the boy huffs in annoyance. He’s found out that Sukuna has a bit of trouble controlling the gnashing maw on his belly that oftentimes reacts subconsciously to his emotions.
It helps wonders in reading the kid’s mood past the mask of practiced indifference—or, less frequently these days, animosity—but now Yuji can’t help but feel like he’s cheating. The advantage of reading him leading to the uncomfortable conclusion that, if asked, Sukuna would happily jump off a cliff if Yuji offered a hug in return.
He once made the mistake of joking about taking a dive into a lake because he’d been craving fish, saying he’d give anything for one right then.
Sukuna didn’t even pause before jumping right in. And only then did Yuji find out that the boy didn’t even know how to swim.
He can still feel the sharp edged terror of seeing those flailing limbs going under without a sound, the stream of bubbles rising to the surface as he stared, dumbfounded and uncomprehending, until he realized that Sukuna isn’t coming back up—
Yuji cried so hard after fishing the boy out of the water that Sukuna awkwardly started patting his head in consolation.
He is not made for this. He’s not. He’s not Gojo-sensei. He’s not strong enough to keep others safe. He’s not even strong enough to keep himself safe, much less a miniature sized Sukuna.
“Stop,” the little boy mumbles into Yuji’s skin, two hands flexing into the fabric of his kosode. A necessary investment after his school uniform had been irreparably destroyed following an encounter with a cursed spirit.
Sukuna threw a fit when Yuji came back to their little camp. Beating his little fists against the teenager’s stomach and demanding he change back right now. Entirely unwilling to accept that his old clothes were nothing more than glorified scraps. Yuji kind of gets it. He misses the uniform, too. The kosode and matching hakama feel entirely out of place on his body, but beggars and can’t be choosers and at least the fabric is insulating enough against the cold.
In the end it had taken Yuji presenting a similar, albeit smaller, pair of garments to Sukuna for the boy to calm down. And he did so only after Yuji pointed out that they’ll totally match with the small band of leaves stitched into their obi.
“Stop what?” Yuji asks, orienting himself by the trodden path half concealed by reeds to trace his steps back toward the small settlement at the foot of a mountain. One of the few places that hadn’t immediately tried to come after them with pitchforks upon seeing Sukuna, and now that winter is upon them… well, Yuji wasn’t too keen on spending the cold season on the road. Not even if it feels like wasting time that would be better spent searching for a way home.
“Thinking,” Sukuna huffs, short legs digging into Yuji’s ribs with surprising strength. A force to be reckoned with even at this size. A typhoon of cursed energy, barely leashed. A pouting little bundle of adorable eyes and limbs. “Makes Yuji look weird.”
And rudeness.
“Kuna is so mean to me,” Yuji whines, faking a stumble for emphasis that makes the boy’s hold tighten dramatically. “Kuna doesn’t like me at all.”
“No,” Sukuna protests, sounding comically distraught at the mere idea, and tries to climb inside Yuji’s kosode in an attempt to fuse with him, “I like Yuji best!” He’s so offended, too. Like the prospect of disliking him is a grave insult, punishable by death. Kind of funny, considering his older version hated Yuji enough to claw his heart out.
“But Yuji gets all sad when he thinks,” Sukuna mumbles, hugging him tightly as cursed energy flares like an agitated kitten. An agitated kitten with razor claws.
“Kuna is so precious,” Yuji coos, giving in to the urge to nuzzle against the boy’s soft pink hair, only a few shades darker than his own now that it’s been washed and properly picked clean of debris. “Never change, you hear me? Or Yuji will cry and be sad!”
And die. And end up dismembered. Not necessarily in that order.
Sukuna squirms, the left arm of the upper pair coming up to push half heartedly at his face, and Yuji has to refrain from cooing once more when he feels the soft vibration of the boy’s stomach mouth as it rumbles with contentment and starts gnawing at his clothes, ever hungry.
“Yuji can’t be sad,” he asserts with a huff, the secondary pair of eyes swiveling to glare balefully while the other two remain hidden against Yuji’s shoulder. “I won’t allow it.”
Sukuna’s startled squeal scares a nearby flock of birds into flight as Yuji squishes the kid against him in a bear hug and thinks, not for the first time, that this version of the King of Curses is a hundred times more dangerous than his future incarnation.
They arrive back at the settlement just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon and torches are being lit along the main road as a beacon for stray souls.
It’s a peaceful settlement. With a number of small homes arranged in loose formations to accommodate various families, and makeshift enclosures farther back for a small number of chickens and horses. Not wealthy in a traditional sense, but fortunate enough to profit from a remote location and bountiful harvests, and happy to accommodate two additional mouths for the winter as long as Yuji deals with any cursed spirits wandering their way.
Akari, a young woman with a stocky build and glossy black hair, spots them first and starts waving wildly, beckoning them closer, “There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you two!”
Yuji stops short from where he was about to call a greeting, tilting his head in confusion as he shifts Sukuna a little higher in his arms, “Huh? Didn’t Haruto tell you I went to the river?”
“No, he did, but-“ she gasps, “Don’t tell me- Is there another one!?”
Quickly Yuji shakes his head, “Not as far as I can tell. He just wanted me to check the nets upstream.”
“Thank the gods,” she sighs, wringing her hands together, “I can’t imagine…”
Sukuna chooses that moment to start shifting in his grip, all four of his arms untangling slowly in a precursor to wanting to be set down, and Yuji bends down to set the boy on his feet easily. But he doesn’t go far and instead brings up the hands on his left side to fist in the leg of Yuji’s hakama.
Akari’s eyes flit to the little boy, a difficult emotion flashing across her face before she schools it back into pleasantness, “Well, regardless. It’s good that you’re back. A traveler arrived earlier today, and he’s been asking for you.”
For Yuji? That’s… odd. A little concerning, even. Apart from Sukuna he hasn’t exactly taken the time to socialize much. Certainly not enough to have someone actively seek him out…
His surprise must be apparent because Akari just shrugs a little helplessly and gestures towards the elder’s home further down the small road.
“We were skeptical too, and Hiden-sama didn’t want to tell him anything at first, but then he said he’s also been blessed with sight and touched by the gods, and that he wished to meet the person who’d been exorcising the demons in this area.”
…Another sorcerer?
Yuji feels his heart speed up, a restless buzz spreading throughout his chest on the cusps restricting his airflow.
All those weeks spent fruitlessly searching for at least a hint of another sorcerer’s whereabouts, chasing rumors like trails of smoke, whispers of clans capable of vanquishing unseen horrors, and now—they’ve found him instead?
A sorcerer. A sorcerer who wants to meet him.
A sorcerer that might know how to send Yuji home-
Small hands tug at his hakama, startling him back to the present. Sukuna is looking up at him uncertainly, something like apprehension swimming in the curl of his lip, and the small hint of a fang betrays his growing unease. As does the inhuman rumble coming from his stomach mouth.
Akari takes a step back, eyes darting between Sukuna and Yuji rapidly before settling firmly on the latter. She bows stiffly once, quick and precise, “I must be off. But Hiden-sama requests your presence at your earliest convenience.”
Yuji watches her retreating form until she vanishes in the late afternoon bustle to prepare everything for the night. Then he exhales a plume of white into the late afternoon air, the little cloud billowing and dissolving into nothing.
If anybody had told him a few months back he’d be juggling the single parent life in an era where modern plumbing is a distant dream at best, he might have reconsidered Gojo-sensei’s delayed execution offer.
…well, not really. He wouldn’t trade the little time he got to spend with everyone for the world. And moreover, Yuji really doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened if those villagers had found the boy’s hiding spot.
“Don’t go,” Sukuna says suddenly, two of his eyes staring up at him beseechingly while the other two are fixed on the puffs of smoke rising from elder Hiden’s home.
Yuji pastes a bright smile onto his face, nerves hastily buried in light of Sukuna’s obvious apprehension at the prospect of meeting the newcomer. Focusing on others had always come more naturally to him, anyways.
“It‘s okay, Kuna,“ Yuji crouches down to his level, reaching out to fix the boy‘s askew neckline until the fabric lies snug. Heavens know how the great King of Curses would behave if mildly inconvenienced by something as plebeian as a common cold. “We’ll just say hello real quick.”
Sukuna isn’t reassured by that in the slightest and drags his feet all the way to the elder’s home. By the third person they pass Yuji gives up on apologizing for the kid’s murderous glare, aimed at everything and everyone, and simply accepts that Sukuna is never going to be a people person. Yuji will settle for non-murdery coexistence and call it a job well done.
It’s already a ton of progress that the townsfolk don’t immediately jump out of their way and mumble a prayer upon catching sight of the boy’s dour mood. Small steps, and all that. He does force Sukuna into an apologetic bow however when he snarls at another boy that wanders a little too close for his liking, and the poor child looks like he’s going to start crying.
Yuji sighs in relief when they’re finally at the front steps to the elder’s home, patting Sukuna’s head for good measure—and expertly ignoring the gnashing teeth. He hadn’t taken the many chances to eat him so far, and Yuji’s learned to call the boy out on his bullshit long ago.
“Behave,” he advises, knowing it’s in vain. But his grandpa was convinced that good manners could be taught through osmosis, and so Yuji will dutifully keep his parenting methods alive. Maybe one day he’ll even find out what osmosis means.
His knuckles barely touch the wooden frame of the door before Hiden’s gravelly voice calls out for them enter, and for some inexplicable reason Yuji feels cowed when he passes the threshold and is met with the full brunt of the old man’s weary stare from across the small living space. He is seated on a woven circle of hemp, stoking the fire of the irori with sure movements until the flames crackle merrily and lick at the kettle hanging suspended over the fire.
“Yurei-san,” the old man says, inclining his head in greeting, “We have been awaiting you.”
We, because across from Hiden—back to Yuji— sits another person clad all in white, white robes, white hair, expensive cloth in stark contrast with the humble cut of wooden floors.
Sukuna’s stomach mouth clacks its teeth, the clawed hand clutching at Yuji’s leg digging in harder as the the stranger turns his head slowly, revealing a thin, dark veil spanning across his face and—
Yuji feels faint. His knees are- somewhere. On another plane of existence, perhaps. Not here, certainly.
Sukuna snarls, a small body pushing itself up against Yuji’s side, cursed energy flaring like a spooked cat caught in fight or flight.
The veil isn’t enough to hide the otherworldly light behind it, nor the curl of mischief around his lips, achingly familiar but not.
“Gojo-….?” Sensei becomes stuck in his throat, because it can’t be. It can’t. But at the same time-
The man grins, blue eyes aglow with a light all their own.
“Oh?” He says, head tilting like a bird’s, veil slipping sideways, “Well, that certainly makes introductions much easier.”