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Itadori Yuuji knows he hasn’t been in the whole jujutsu sorcerer business for a long time. He’s still green behind the ears and every little cultural difference fascinates him to no end, much to the amusement of everyone else around him.
But one thing he knows with certainty; while you kind of have to be a certain type of crazy to even consider a career path within jujutsu sorcery, it seems that these sorcerers don’t notice that they change with it too – physically, at least.
Sometimes, Yuuji stares at his reflection in the mirror and wonders if he will ever notice the changes if they come. The little differences. Something that sets him apart from human.
Ironically, he never takes note of how his shadow had duplicated itself, the moment he had swallowed Sukuna’s finger.
It starts with Gojo Satoru.
Because of course, it does.
He’s peculiar – bizarre and eccentric with his boisterous personality more befitting for an impish high schooler than a full-grown man over the age of 25. And it doesn’t help how the air seems to spark around him.
Yuuji’s self-aware enough to know that he isn’t the brightest, yet he still feels like he’s the only one in the mismatched group, who picks up on the permanent static in the air whenever Gojo arrives. It isn’t particularly oppressing, the feeling of pins and needles swirling around Yuuji. But it feels charged nonetheless. He wonders if his sensei does that on purpose, but he implores himself not to stare at him for too long since it’s rude. Also, the buzz would start to get a little too loud in his ears.
However, that effect is nothing compared to what Yuuji experiences after; he is still hopped up on residual adrenaline from witnessing Unlimited Void, so he doesn’t immediately notice the way Gojo’s features seem fuzzy at the edges when he takes off his blindfold.
He knows his sensei is talking to him, but Yuuji can barely hear him over the growing volume of the ever-present buzzing static in his head. The hairs on his neck stand on end as he watches with growing terror that he can’t recognize his teacher’s face. The features are all there; brows, nose, mouth, but they seem to subtly change shape, pixelating at the edges.
Gojo’s eyes are the only ones that remain unchanged – and it’s terrifying. Framed by snow-white lashes, the brilliant blue stands out so starkly on the changing face. The irises glint like fractals in a kaleidoscope, spinning and turning like little lights. Yuuji feels his throat grow dry and a headache starts to bloom between his temples.
The buzzing stops when he averts his direct gaze. His head throbs.
“Yuuji-kun, are you alright?” Despite the mildly worried tone, Yuuji hesitates to look at his sensei again. He scolds himself mentally for it and lifts his gaze anyway.
Gojo’s wearing a pair of shades now – his silhouette is still a little fuzzy at the edges, but at least his face remains still. Yuuji nearly breathes a sigh of relief.
“I– I’m fine! Just…got a little headache, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” Gojo hums before turning on his heel. “Ah, maybe I’ve got some medicine left! Let me get it for you real quick.”
“Thanks, sensei,” Yuuji says politely as he watches Gojo disappear behind a door. He still hears the man hum a funny little tune. The static prevails, sparking off every once in a while, leaving a particular smell behind that reminds Yuuji of approaching thunderstorms.
Ozone, he hears Megumi’s voice say in his mind. Gojo Satoru smells like lightning.
Nanami Kento is fun, Yuuji thinks and naturally, he tells the man so. Despite his glasses, Yuuji can tell Nanamin is rolling his eyes. They’re coming back from a relatively short patrol and the man suggests stopping by a small cafe for a quick meal.
“What would you like, Itadori-kun?” he asks, perusing the sandwich display patiently. He leans forward slightly when something catches his interest and Yuuji studies him quietly.
Nanamin is all angles. He stands so sharp and defined against the backdrop of other people, regular people. Like he was on a picture put into photoshop and he was the only feature that was properly sharpened. Every corner, every edge on him seems refined like the blade of a knife.
It doesn’t help that everything is so precise too. His every movement, no matter how much or how little he moved, his limbs would stop immediately, never trembling, never wavering. He’s like a statue being posed, with perfect angles in perfect proportions and perfect measurements.
It’s unnerving. Yuuji isn’t sure if he can actually see him breathe. He doesn’t comment on it and instead points at a sandwich. “This one looks good!”
When they eat, Yuuji averts his eyes from Nanamin’s gaze, mostly because he’s never seen irises with numbers for measurement etched into them before. It’s unnerving.
Yuuji doesn’t know Iori Utahime well, but she seems nice enough.
For one, she appears to be a lot more responsible than Gojo. Of course, Yuuji doesn’t tell him that, but…his point still stands. Iori-sensei is very open with her students, he sees that she obviously cares about them and their well-being. Her smile is friendly and it softens the pinched look on her face.
“Iori-sensei is really pretty, huh?” Yuuji tells Nobara, who leans forward past him to also catch a glance. She purses her lips.
“Hm. Yeah, she’s got pretty eyes,” she says before leaning back. “Her voice is the best, though.”
Yuuji blinks in surprise. “Really?”
Iori-sensei’s voice isn’t bad, but the weirdly reverberating quality of it makes his bones quiver within him. She speaks so gently, yet it sends tremors through his marrow, making his skull rattle like a harmony bell. It took a few minutes for him to get used to it, but everyone else seemed unaffected. Maybe they’ve already grown accustomed to it.
“Yeah, weren’t you listening?” Nobara puts her hands together and smiles almost serenely, it kind of freaks Yuuji out. “She sounds like a songbird, all sweet little bell chimes and perfectly melodious. Do you think she’s a singer? She could be famous!”
She raves on, but Yuuji’s only half-listening. Sure, Iori-sensei has a cool voice, but. What Nobara describes is not what he heard. He asks Megumi later.
“Iori-sensei?” Megumi shrugs. “She sounds normal, I guess. Gentle and deep, not overly cheerful and not very loud either.”
That’s also not what Yuuji heard. But he doesn’t tell anyone and dreams of a large, dark concert hall that night.
By all accounts, Fushiguro Megumi is a very broody guy by nature. Or at least Yuuji thinks so. Maybe the incident at Yasohachi bridge still weighs on him – how could it not, he did have to worry about his sister for a second there. Whatever it is, Yuuji and Nobara don’t let him dwell on it for too long and instead drag Megumi out for the day into the city to take his mind off of things. It’s working pretty well and soon, Megumi bickers with Nobara about which shop they should visit next. Yuuji makes the smart decision and sits this one out, opting to instead lean against the nearby wall with Nobara’s numerous shopping bags cradled into the crook of his elbows.
Silently, he wills himself not to freak out when Megumi’s shadow on the wall next to him turns its head towards him. He shivers a little; how can he feel a stare when it has no eyes? The undivided attention nearly makes him blush. Silently, he sees how one of the shadow’s hands reaches towards him – unhurried, like Yuuji’s supposed to see it as a non-threatening gesture. Goosebumps raced up his arms as he watches the hand crawl over the wall towards his face.
“Yuuji.”
He nearly jumps out of his skin at Megumi’s voice. “Y-Yeah?”
“You choose,” Megumi says next to a pouting Nobara. He hasn’t noticed how his shadow seems to have a mind of its own. “At this point, we’ll be here all day.”
Yuuji’s quick to point out a store nearby that seems relatively new. He follows his teammates and tries not to think too hard about how Megumi’s shadow doesn’t seem to be attached to his feet anymore. Or how his eyes flash up briefly when light hits it just right, reflecting in a near-white pupil that has Yuuji clench his fists to prevent a shudder. Or how Megumi’s teeth seem to change when he’s agitated, lips peeling back as if he wants to growl.
His shadow seems deeper. A stark black against any surface, no matter how much or how little light there is. These days, Yuuji thinks it looks more like a black hole than anything else. Swirling darkness – he doesn’t want to stare, because last time he did, he saw something moving inside.
In the evening, Megumi bids him an early good night before trudging off down the hallway. His shadow stays, still facing Yuuji. He can feel its stare. His heart is in his throat.
“Good night,” he tells it quietly.
It turns and walks after its owner silently, seemingly satisfied, taking with it the smell of rain that enshrouds Megumi constantly.
Kugisaki Nobara is anything but ordinary – Yuuji knows that. He admires it actually, the way she’s so proudly herself with no regard for what other people think of her. She’s pretty when she’s dressed up, she’s pretty when she’s strong – she is Kugisaki Nobara and Yuuji doesn’t need any further explanation.
Still, it takes him everything not to flinch when she flexes her hands. Truly, Yuuji is no stranger to popping joints – his spine cracks every morning when he stretches. But the squealing creak that Nobara’s joints emit is not something he is quite used to yet.
She gives her other hand the same treatment, absentmindedly watching something on her phone. Her joints creak and squeal like those of a poorly oiled doll. The hairs on Yuuji’s neck stand on end as he listens, trying not to shudder. This is just Nobara, Nobara who is his friend, his teammate, the pretty girl with a dangerous hammer and the knowledge on how to use it effectively.
He hears Megumi approach them, calling something out to them. Yuuji looks up and so does Nobara – she tilts her head in question. Yuuji swallows as he watches her head fall to the side with a noisy creak, halting instantly and bobbing slightly in the air. It’s like she has no muscles or tendons, but instead wires and hinges holding her together.
Yuuji hears her and Megumi talk, but the words don’t register. He’s too fixated on the way Nobara pushes herself from the iron railing she was leaning on – like a puppet on a string, she pushes forward, back arching in a way that couldn’t be comfortable or healthy. She doesn’t acknowledge it and neither does Megumi.
So Yuuji says nothing, even when Nobara turns her head towards him to scold him. Human necks cannot turn this far, but hers does. He just chuckles apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck as if he’s the one who turned his skull a few degrees more than he should.
Later, Nobara tries to swat a fly that has landed on her thigh – she misses and slaps her leg instead. Naturally, she complains immediately. Yuuji laughs, ignoring the way his own thigh stings slightly. Ignoring how Megumi also absentmindedly rubs the same thigh to soothe the mild pain, still engrossed in his book.
Despite having been stabbed by him, Okkotsu Yuuta doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He’s pretty friendly, actually. He gives Yuuji ample company and some food as they rest after discussing how to proceed from here. A fire crackles between them and as Yuuji eats, he tries not the shiver at the way the firelight doesn’t reflect in Yuuta’s eyes.
They are dark, so dark the pupils aren’t visible at all. No light reflects on them. Yuuta’s eyes are just two black holes, swallowing everything and leaving only a black expanse of nothingness. They remind Yuuji uncomfortably of the eyes of a dead fish at the markets. How they would just stare into nothing, lifeless, the brain behind them void of any thought.
And if the thousand-yard stare isn’t enough, Yuuji thinks he’s seen Yuuta only blink twice in the past half hour. It’s a languid, heavy movement, like molasses crawling over the edge of a bowl. He suspects the eyelids didn’t even move at the same time. Yuuji nearly jumps out of his skin when those eyes flit up towards him.
Yuuta smiles, gently. The light of the fire throws shadows on his face, shapes which shouldn’t be really possible. Something seems to just hang over him, hovering like an ill fog. Yuuji can’t tell what exactly it is, but goosebumps run up his arms.
“Everything okay?” Yuuta asks. His voice is soft and gentle. It echoes hollowly, too.
Yuuji swallows, looks into the empty eyes and manages a weak smile. “Everything okay.”
Yuuji’s breath comes out in a warm fog; the white-haired monk kid’s got a strong technique, judging by the size of those ice spikes jutting out of the ground. But even with the clear prowess, Yuuji can’t help but pay attention to the man the monk is guarding.
Ice particles shine like glitter in the dark oil slick hair as they float in the cold breeze. He’s got a gentle face, Yuuji thinks, all soft lines and a serene smile, even if the crude stitching across his forehead jars the entire image. The iridescent sheen on his hair ripples softly with the wind and Yuuji watches how a few of the dark strands curl into endless spirals.
The man smiles at him. The gesture is still deceptively serene, friendly even, almost as if he’s being affectionate. But even with the pretty smile, those lips stretch too wide, exposing a sliver of way too many teeth. The corners of the mouth curl further in themselves than they should. Everything about that guy seems to warp into endless circles.
Those dark eyes feel hypnotizing, drawing Yuuji further down into a whirlpool of confusion and detached familiarity. It’s as if he’s supposed to know this man. But all he comes up with is a terrifyingly empty face, the only thing present on the blank surface is a deep spiral, open and dark like the hungry maw of a beast. It calls his name. He’s afraid of it.
Yuuji knows this man is important somehow, knows that he has to fight him at some point. But he can’t help but feel relieved when they get away from him. It takes him a few hours to blink all these spirals away. He isn’t attached to any particular shapes, however…he thinks, he doesn’t like spiral patterns all that much anymore.
Tsukumo Yuki is a statuesque woman with a stunning smile and clear eyes. Yuuji can feel his face warm slightly when he cranes his neck up to see her beautiful face, framed by long, blonde hair. It looks like fine silk with that healthy shine it has. And despite the clear lack of wind in Master Tengen’s domain, a few of her strands curl themselves almost playfully.
They twirl slowly within her golden mane, ends curling up and uncurling just as delicately in a rhythm that reminds Yuuji of a heartbeat. It’s both fascinating yet disturbing to see it so alive. He watches how two strands lift themselves, meeting gently in the middle to twine around each other. he almost startles when Yuki decides the brush back some hair from her shoulder; her hair fans out, lowering slowly as if they’re feathers.
“I guess that’s that!” She claps into her hand once, smiling. “I’m staying with Master Tengen.”
Choso volunteers alongside her and immediately begins a heartfelt goodbye to Yuuji. The team splits up and Yuki grins. “You guys stay safe, huh?”
Her eyes are so, so clear – only now Yuuji notices how wide they look. Something like a persistent hunger lingers within her irises, whose colors Yuuji cannot seem to identify. Her pupils expand somehow, too large for a normal person, framed by long, too long, feathery lashes.
Yuuji hopes it doesn’t come over as an insult when the first image that pops into his head is the face of an owl.
Hakari Kinji is hard to look at. Don’t get Yuuji wrong, he thinks his senpai is actually really cool, but…his eyes sting a little when he looks at his upperclassman. He tries his hardest not to squint, but it’s difficult when Hakari-senpai is so bright.
Light just seems to bounce off of him like he’s some highly reflective surface. It’s like he’s made out of metal and not flesh, all polished shine. Yuuji has to admit, however, that it’s very fitting for his boisterous senpai. All glitter and gold, a glamorous shine that glints in his teeth and eyes. Even his fingernails have a golden sheen and his irises look more like cut gemstones with all their angles and edges.
Yuuji listens with only half an ear to the discussion Hakari, Panda and Megumi are having, too busy trying to figure out if his senpai’s actually got gold teeth or if his mind is only playing tricks on him. To be quite honest, he’s not sure why he even tries to rationalize it – he hasn’t done so with all the other instances. So, he elects to just let it go, blinking against the lights that fall from Hakari-senpai and watching how his eyes glow with a pure golden sheen when he tilts his head just right.
He’s starting to think he’s the only one who thinks too hard about these things.
Honestly, Yuuji thinks Hoshi Kirara is so cool. They have funky hair, even funkier piercings and a really fun personality – well, after the whole attack-on-sight debacle.
“You know a lot about stars, Kirara-senpai!” Yuuji says with admiration in his voice. His upperclassman giggles, fingers wiggling excitedly.
“Of course, I learned all about them after figuring out my technique,” they tell him, humming as they fish for a strand of hair to twirl around their finger. In the light, their manicured nails glint like metal. Yuuji’s noticed before how sharp they look, a slight curl at the end that makes them appear like claws. He’s sure his senpai uses them as such.
Kirara smiles at him, both piercings and teeth shining like silver. Their wide eyes study him with amusement, star-shaped pupils spinning gently within their irises that look like the night sky. As they twirl a strand of hair, everything shifts a little and Yuuji can see the whole galaxy swirling within the hidden expanse of the dark tresses. He thinks he sees a comet flying by. Quietly, he believes that Kirara-senpai’s unnaturalness is the prettiest one he’s experienced so far. Sure, the eyes freak him out a little, but at this point he kind of expects it.
“Pretty, right?” Yuuji focuses back on his upperclassman, who regards him with a knowing look. His mouth falls open in shock, but Kirara lifts a clawed finger to their grinning lips. Their teeth still glint like silver. “But not as pretty as my Kin-chan.”
(Zenin Maki feels empty.
Yuuji knows she standing right next to him, her hand resting on her new sword. But he cannot feel her. She is shrouded in nothing. Maki-senpai feels like our empty space – no presence, no scent. If he hadn’t seen her, he knows he wouldn’t have noticed her at all. He swallows.
No one asks about the Zenin clan. It doesn’t exist anymore; gone, empty, like Maki-senpai. Yuuji encounters her new blade by chance, when he enters the room she’s resting in, only to realize she isn’t there. He’s about to leave when the lone sword resting on the bed catches his attention. He knows he shouldn’t, but the fact that the weapon exudes a presence unlike its owner draws him in.
The blade is pristine. Yuuji doesn’t touch it. Doesn’t move really, for his reflection in the blade is not his own. She smiles at him.
“Hello, Mai-senpai.”
She keeps smiling.
“Yuuji.”
He doesn’t jump like he expects to. The atmosphere in the room is still unchanged, the sound of his name loud and clear. He turns and spots Maki-senpai behind him. She doesn’t feel like anything. Her amber eyes look like glass marbles – her pupils don’t change in the light anymore. They remain like pinpricks of black, a stinging gaze that feels like needles. Her burn scars crawl leisurely over her skin.
Yuuji doesn’t ask, only nods at her and then at Mai-senpai. He leaves. He now knows why there isn’t a heartbeat within Maki-senpai anymore.)
Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara have made another promise to each other, aside from their findings at Yasohachi bridge. Granted, this time, it’s a silent promise, one exchanged in glances only as they walk alongside Itadori Yuuji. They don’t comment on his two shadows.
They never will, probably.
What Yuuji doesn’t know, won’t hurt him, right?
They hope so. They’re on edge enough as it is. Megumi wills his hands to stay in his pockets despite their reflexive twitching. Nobara herself clenches her jaw in order to not reach for her hammer. They exchange glances again behind Yuuji’s back.
They will not tell. Not about his two shadows. Or the fact, that out of the corners of their eyes, they see two Yuujis walking with them. Megumi and Nobara know that one of them does not mean well. They can’t see his face, but everything about him screams danger, despite the fact that they know he isn’t actually there.
But the wicked copy wanders with them nonetheless, from the bare edges of their peripheral. He’s always there – faceless, frozen, even if Yuuji throws this head back to laugh. He’s always there and if you’d ask them to be honest, both Megumi and Nobara fear the day, when they might actually see his face.
Because even as a copy, it would not be Yuuji at all.