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Yuuji clung to Sukuna like a tick. Blood Manipulation flowed over his hands and became claws, became ropes binding them together, became veins pulsing between them, blood and cursed energy flowing from one to another. When Sukuna growled and tore at him, he held on until the seconds stretched out and Sukuna realized that he had nothing left but this refusal to die or retreat. He wouldn’t be left behind. That had been his mistake the first time around.
It wasn’t that the energy he stole was enough to turn the tide of battle. It was too late for that. But any time he gave Ieiri-san and Mei Mei to organize the survivors to flee was something. And linked like this, Yuuji and Fushiguro’s hearts beat as one, their bodies passing a message between each other where Yuuji’s soul had failed to touch.
Even as Sukuna knelt to devour Gojo-sensei’s – Okkotsu-senpai’s – body, Yuuji held on. He didn’t have to look. The flow of cursed energy from Sukuna’s stomach to his was clear enough for him.
Presumably, Sukuna returned them to wherever he had been staying in the month leading up to the fight. Yuuji had no idea where that was; all he knew was that they had no expectation of encountering Sukuna on everyday patrols. Mei Mei had probably had eyes on it. Yuuji hadn’t let anyone talk to him about where Sukuna was or what he might be doing. Just imagining Fushiguro’s face with those tattoos, Sukuna acting like he had a right to that body, had made his gorge rise.
Wherever it was, it was a Japanese-style estate that had been well-kept, up until the point it had become the site of a jujutsu battle. Between Sukuna and Kenjaku?, Yuuji wondered. It was bitterly unlikely, and in any case no longer mattered.
Once they were inside, Sukuna grasped Yuuji’s head in one hand, gripping it with splayed fingers like you would a baseball. “Will you stop feeding on me like a parasite, brat? I seem to remember you calling me that, once. How things change.”
Yuuji said nothing.
“I’ll cut you loose,” Sukuna threatened.
Yuuji’s only response was to flex his claws beneath the layers of blood binding them together.
“Fine.”
Dismantle’s blade was so sharp, the pain of Yuuji’s tailbone slamming into the ground hit him before the pain of his missing limbs did. He gasped, lungs heaving, as his blood pulled him together. Reverse cursed technique healed him, but it left him no energy to get up. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them. Okay. Step one: sit up.
A foot nudged him none too lightly. “You’ve already ruined two tatami mats.”
And whose fault is that, Yuuji tried to say, but his throat was so dry what rasped out were barely words.
Sukuna grabbed his skull again, pulling him upright with an unpleasant-sounding pop of vertebrae. “Useless.”
The room they were in had a few pillows, a low table with – bizarrely enough – a vase of fresh flowers, and not much else. There wasn’t room for much else, not with Sukuna in it.
“Drink the water from the flowers, if you’re so thirsty. You should savor the taste – Uraume set them out, and your friends have seen fit to remove them from my service.” Sukuna spat the last part.
So that was one point for Team Sorcerer. Yuuji mentally revised his tally of who was alive. If Hakari-senpai fought them, and Sukuna hadn’t stopped to kill him or save his servant, then probably he had escaped. He was lucky like that. He was pretty sure Todo and Hana were dead. He felt a frightening kind of calm at the idea.
He barely noticed as Sukuna left the room. It wasn’t like Yuuji had any intention of escaping.
The flower water was alright, it turned out. Kind of grassy.
Sukuna hadn’t been gone for very long, but it was enough time for Yuuji’s blood to get used to being inside his body again. His head felt clearer. His strongest and closest allies were dead; his greatest enemy was a few meters away. Yuuji had no plan, only a conviction that he would know what to do as it happened.
What to do turned out to be very simple.
Sukuna didn’t bother to duck when he slid open the door, casually Dismantling the frame until he could step through unimpeded. When he was within arms’ reach of Yuuji, he opened his hand. In it lay one of his fingers, scraps of talisman still clinging to it.
“My servant collected these while you sorcerers cowered.”
Yuuji bit back his instinctive response, that they had worked hard, that they had even scrambled to gather the fingers they knew existed. There was no point in justifying his friends to Sukuna. Gojo-sensei’s voice rang in his ears: Think back to the movies, Yuuji-kun. ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’ In sorcery, either you win, or someone dies.
His silence was clearly not what Sukuna wanted. He swept all four arms out, emphasizing the grin on both his mouths. “With all twenty fingers and the residuals contained in my corpse, I could have exceeded my power from one thousand years ago. But I chose to challenge myself. Your showing was truly pathetic.”
Pathetic. Pitiable. Predictable.
All Sukuna’s strength was useless without someone to be stronger than. The joy of fighting, the satiation of a good meal – both meaningless and forgettable next to the yawning need that Yuuji’s rejection somehow fulfilled.
“Get to the point,” he said.
“Your petty suffering and your worthless ideals make me gag. Without victory, nothing you’ve done has any meaning. But I’ll be merciful to you, brat.” Sukuna’s voice was gleeful. “I know you feel the connection between our souls. You tried to exploit it with your domain, but you know nothing. Eat my finger – feel my incarnation within you and my incarnation without – and I will make you understand why I have won.”
A laugh tore its way out of Yuuji’s throat, a half-strangled thing that was no less sharp for it. It was so – of course this was what Sukuna wanted. Unable to let anything stand that didn’t bow to his power. “So you do want to come back to me.”
Sukuna’s face twisted. Before he could speak, Yuuji cut him off. He met Sukuna’s eyes with the same coldness he had in his domain and held out his hand. “I’ll eat it. On one condition.”
“You’re in no position to make demands,” Sukuna spat.
Yuuji didn’t blink. “If you force this down my throat, I’ll just cut myself open and take it out.” His gut told him he could do so easily. His body remembered past wounds healed.
From the set of Sukuna’s lips, he suspected so too. He was silent, so Yuuji continued, “I want you to release Fushiguro’s soul. Turn him into a cursed object, and give him to me.”
“What?” Sukuna’s brow barely rose, but the eyes in his mask pulsed. A smile spread across his face again. “Brat, if you wanted your friend dead, you missed your chance.”
“No.” Yuuji said. “I want Fushiguro away from you. It’s not death. It’s a dreamless sleep, where you can’t touch him.”
“Did you forget Kenjaku entrusted Fushiguro Megumi with the Merger, not me? Do you think your friend is so weak he’ll give up his body so easily?”
“Like you care about the Merger.” Yuuji wouldn’t give Sukuna an inch. “It’s not about weakness. I think he wants to get away from you.”
Away from Sukuna, Fushiguro could rest. It wouldn’t cure him or save him. But Yuuji remembered when his Grandpa was hospitalized for the last time, how he had needed painkillers to even be able to carry out a conversation. When Fushiguro wasn’t being tortured anymore – then Yuuji could make a new plan. Something Fushiguro would have input on, like how he and Choso had planned with their brothers before Yuuji ate them.
“Hmm,” Sukuna drawled, a parody of consideration. “And what will you give me for Ten Shadows?”
Yuuji widened his eyes in faux shock. “You mean you never learned to engrave it on your soul? Wow, I did that with your technique by accident.” He shook his head sadly. “Truly a pathetic showing.”
Sukuna’s eyes glittered with rage. “Fine!” he barked, sweeping his arm to cut off any further comments from Yuuji. “I accept your binding vow! Eat the finger, and I will give you the soul of Fushiguro Megumi!” With that, he turned and swept out of the room, tossing the finger on the floor behind him.
When he was out of sight, Yuuji sank to his knees. This time, he laughed for real.
The finger was like any of the others. Yuuji had never bothered to check which digit they were when he ate them. As far as he was concerned, they were all equally gross and cursed. The gross part was the taste, the cursed part was the way it burned in his stomach after he swallowed it. It was like he had tried to cure the world’s worst acid reflux with a chaser of dish soap. Still, it was preferable to the formaldehyde-and-sugar flavor of his brothers and the vicarious joy that choked him as their tiny skulls burst on his tongue.
He took a deep breath, and waited. He didn’t actually have any memories of Sukuna incarnating the first time. It had just happened, like a magician pulling away the curtain to reveal the empty box was now full. Now Yuuji knew how to pay attention.
The soul formed inside him like a blown bubble. More accurately, Yuuji thought distantly in a voice that sounded like Gojo-sensei, it was like a miniature domain. There was no barrier to it but the boundaries of Yuuji’s body, so he set about defining one. He must have done this by instinct the first time, but now he was methodical, forcing Sukuna’s soul into the refuge of his heart. Yuuji wouldn’t let him pull the same trick twice. This time, if Sukuna killed him, they would die together.
Preparations complete, Yuuji let himself feel his heartbeats and sink into a familiar domain. Same pool of blood, same pile of skulls, same throne. Same Sukuna, wearing Yuuji’s face and that white-and-blue kimono.
He turned to Yuuji with a snarl. “Who are you? You think you can imprison me, peasant? I’ll see your family and lovers slaughtered, your home razed, all memories of you erased!”
Huh. A different Sukuna? “So you don’t remember me?” Yuuji asked, eyebrow raised.
“Why would I keep track of every mewling cub that crosses my path?” Sukuna scoffed, which was Sukuna for no, I do not know you.
Yuuji took a seat cross-legged, letting the blood rise up over his lap as he leaned back to look at the ribcage overhead. “You won’t say yes, but I have to ask: will you be kind?”
New Sukuna doesn’t take this any better than Original Sukuna would. “Hah?! What the hell are you prattling on about?”
Yuuji closed his eyes. He had no energy to explain himself again today. “That’s about what I expected,” he said, mostly to himself, and opened his eyes in the real world.
It took Sukuna a lot longer to come back with Fushiguro than it had for him to fetch his finger. In the meantime, Yuuji slept. Sure, the tatami was bloody, but Yuuji’d slept in worse, like the time when he was eight and had the stomach flu and fell asleep in his own barf. The pillows smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but that was actually comforting. It reminded him of his grandpa.
He awoke from a nightmare about adopting too many puppies and forgetting how many he had and letting them starve and panicking about being arrested for animal abuse to the feeling of Sukuna and Fushiguro in the corridor outside. Not Sukuna in Fushiguro, an overlapping, distorting presence, but two separate signatures. He scrambled to his feet, eyes fixed on the doorframe.
Sukuna appeared in the gap, head framed in the space he had torn open earlier. He looked – tired. Within him, the fragment of Sukuna’s soul was radiating confusion and fear at seeing himself incarnated, and this was distracting enough that it took a second for Yuuji to process the man in front of him. During the battles earlier in the day, Sukuna had looked annoyed, blank, even frightened, but never something so human as sleepy. It gave Yuuji new energy, and he flicked a hand to gesture at Sukuna’s whole body.
“You look terrible.” He tried to marshal his thoughts to snark at Sukuna, like Gojo-sensei would have, but all he could summon was frankness. It didn’t help that the incarnated Sukuna inside him was furiously pressing at the bars of his cage. Yuuji didn’t waste the effort to ask him to stop. It would gall him more to be ignored, he knew from long experience.
The Sukuna in front of him snarled by way of acknowledgment. He threw something from his lower left hand, and Yuuji caught it on instinct, without even processing what it was.
“Perhaps next time that will be a serpent,” Sukuna remarked, clearly aiming for threat and landing on angry old man.
“I’m still immune to poisons,” Yuuji said absently. All his focus was on the object in his hand, radiating Fushiguro’s cursed energy. It was a balm on his open wounds. No matter how small an action it was, Fushiguro was free.
The object itself was an irregular trapezoid a little smaller than his palm, colored the dull black of charred wood. Yuuji turned it over in his palm and the light caught on wet-looking lines, tracing the symbols of the Divine Dogs. He felt stupid – he’d been expecting a finger, something to make Sukuna and him match. There wasn’t any reason that had to be the case, he realized belatedly. The Death Painting Wombs had been fetuses. Surely cursed objects could take any form.
“What is this made of?” he asked.
Sukuna inspected his nails, like Fushiguro was something that could taint him. “It’s a fragment of his sister’s skull. If I’m no longer to have him as my property, I don’t need her body taking up space anymore. I ate enough to imbue his essence within it and discarded the rest.”
“What?!” Yuuji’s head snapped up, a thousand thoughts running through his head.
He hadn’t actually known Tsumiki was dead. When whoever was inside her took control, Sukuna had taken his chance to capture Fushiguro and followed them. Yuuji had thought – had hoped – that they knew each other. Maybe the thing inside Tsumiki was another servant waiting for Sukuna like Uraume had in Shibuya. Afterwards, the thought of tracking them with Kogane made Yuuji feel sick. Hana had told him the next day that Megumi and Tsumiki were in Sendai, and that had been enough to confirm his hopes and fears. It was bad enough, imagining Sukuna tainting the places he wanted to show Fushiguro with his presence. Subjecting himself to that for weeks, just to get some fractured intel he wouldn’t be able to understand anyway? No. Never. All Yuuji needed to know was that Gojo didn’t expect them to fight Tsumiki. From there he could imagining Gojo winning, pulling Megumi from Sukuna’s corpse, Hana and Yuuji doing the same to Tsumiki and her parasite. It would be okay.
It was so much worse than he had ever imagined. That last fragment of hope, gone. Yuuji had asked for an end to Fushiguro’s torture, and Sukuna had done so by forcing him to eat his sister’s corpse. He was trembling.
“Why – why would you do that?!”
“She’d been dead for most of a month, and I don’t eat old meat,” Sukuna replied, like Fushiguro’s sister, someone Fushiguro had once told Yuuji that he would like, in one of those rare moments he actually spoke about himself, was a half-eaten bag of frozen gyoza. “If Uraume was here to refresh their technique, perhaps I would have considered otherwise. You can blame your allies for their loss.”
“Every time -” Yuuji dug his nails into his palms, his missing fingers a gaping absence of pain. He didn’t want Sukuna to elaborate on Tsumiki's death. He didn’t want to know if he’d slaughtered his servant or just taken a chance to kill some total stranger for fun. “There is nothing too low for you.”
Sukuna’s lower eyes flicked to meet Yuuji’s, first the left and then the right, as if it required more conscious effort to make the eyes of his mask obey him. A smirk played on his lips. “Oh, did you want a turn with her cunt, brat? She was still tender where it counts.”
That was enough. Yuuji slammed the fist not holding Fushiguro into Sukuna’s chest and felt the crack of Divergent Fist against his soul. It was a good hit, not that Yuuji expected it to do anything in the long run. Sukuna grunted, muscles tightening against Yuuji’s knuckles. His upper arms slammed into Yuuji’s shoulders, forcing Yuuji to fall with him as he deliberately dropped to his knees. Like this, neither of them had any mobility. Yuuji’s half-crouch was a little better of a starting point to pull back and fight, but Sukuna’s reach was so much longer it hardly mattered. Yuuji tried anyway, stepping backwards blindly and only managing to stumble over his laces and the pleats of Sukuna’s hakama. Instinctively, he threw Fushiguro aside, refusing to let Sukuna touch him even in cursed object form. Sukuna chuckled, his hands still tight on Yuuji’s shoulders as he pulled Yuuji in for a kiss.
It was nothing like the kisses Yuuji had fumbled his way through in middle school. Sukuna’s tongue plunged into his mouth, then deeper, deeper. When it breached his heart, Yuuji realized it had never been a tongue at all. Sukuna had used the opportunity to touch Yuuji’s soul, and by extension, the soul of the incarnation inside him.
He tried to pull back, but Sukuna’s hands on his shoulders held him tight, all while his real tongue licked against Yuuji’s teeth, trying to urge him to bite. The tendrils of Sukuna’s soul were deep inside him, touching places that had only ever known Sukuna’s hands, that first time he died. They pressed against the walls he had built only hours ago. He moaned.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to lick down his jaw until Yuuji could feel his hot breath against his ear. “What a fine instructor you make,” he whispered, a lower hand coming up to press against Yuuji’s chest. “You joined our hearts with blood this morning. Why should our souls not touch as well?”
Yuuji shook his head, knocking into Sukuna’s nose and the bone-hardness of his mask. It didn’t stop him from hearing the laughter that rose up from the Sukuna fragment inside him.
“Ha! So that’s the trick – splitting the incarnation! Kenjaku would seethe with jealousy if only they were here to see our methods. With a mere handful of tries, I’ve exceeded him! Brat, I’d tell you to be proud you needed two of me to break you, but nobody I’ve met has before been stupid enough to invite me inside.”
“Were you thinking of starting again?” the flesh-and-blood Sukuna said. “Did you think you could tame a mere finger’s worth of my power? Idiot. As long as our souls touch, we are the same.”
Deep in his gut, where his cursed energy formed, Yuuji thought: he is disclosing a technique.
He let his head drop, pressing against Sukuna’s pecs, feeling the way they rose and fell as he chuckled. He smelled the same as Yuuji, like sweat and blood and dirt. The mouth on his stomach lipped at Yuuji’s shirt, the tongue sliding beneath his hem to lick at his own stomach, like it was searching for its twin to kiss.
He had, in a distant kind of way, expected this ever since he first took a shower after Sukuna’s incarnation. Sukuna had threatened to bite his cock off and then, leeringly, to show him that that wouldn’t be the end of pleasure, that Sukuna had cocks enough for both of them. Yuuji had felt so invincible back then, with Gojo-sensei leaning against the shower door outside.
Stupid. But now he knew how to brace for impact.
Taking a deep breath, Yuuji undid the button on his slacks and let Sukuna tug them down. When he slid his lower hands into his underwear, pulling it over his ass, he didn’t resist.
With a grunt of annoyance, Sukuna fumbled one-handed with the belt of his hakama until his cocks were freed to rest against Yuuji’s soft penis. Yuuji wasn’t angled right for him to fuck, straddling Sukuna’s legs more like a horse than a lover, but he let Sukuna adjust him. The great tongue of his stomach mouth slipped between his legs, lapping wetly from his cock to his asshole. It was so much warmer than lotion, both better and more horrifying than his fantasies of blowjobs. Yuuji shuddered back, trying at last to escape somewhere. Sukuna pulled him closer gleefully, all four eyes intent on his body and not his soul.
Yuuji fell inward.
He landed in Sukuna’s innate domain, looking up at him from the foot of the throne. Outside, Sukuna thrust his upper cock between his thighs, rubbing precum and saliva up the cleft of his ass. Yuuji felt the echo of his pleasure in his domain, something felt by his soul but not his body.
“Is this really what you want?” Yuuji asked, meeting Sukuna’s eyes in his own face. He wore the same lazy smirk that he had the first time they met like this, an expression Yuuji had never made himself, but that scrunched his nose in a familiar way.
“I’ve won. I have been incarnated three times by your own stupidity: first caged in your body, then caging your little friend, and now I have locked myself within you once more. How can you fail to see it now? I have won because of you and who you are.”
Yuuji bit his lip, refusing to let it tremble, not from Sukuna’s words, not from Sukuna’s cockhead against his hole. It was like he had talked about with Choso: what-ifs didn’t matter. He had suffered, he had hurt others, now he was here. What next?
“Are you sure?” he asked. Plants rose from beneath the waters of the domain, greedily drinking up the blood until the ground was a mat of grass, broken by stands of knotweed. The throne of skulls softened and caved in on itself, becoming a hillock with a few boulders scattered over it, the kind that were perfect for climbing on if you were a kid.
“What?” Sukuna hissed from where he was now sprawled on the hillside, kimono rumpled around him like he’d been lying back watching the clouds.
In the physical world, Yuuji lay back and let Sukuna’s arms bear his weight as he was adjusted to ease Sukuna’s entry. A cool pulse of Reverse Cursed Technique soothed his muscles, making him relax and go limp. Here, Yuuji climbed the hill and knelt before Sukuna. “Living like this … it just seems so empty.”
“I’ve heard it all before,” Sukuna snapped. “This morning, even. Why now? You can’t stop this.”
“I can’t,” Yuuji agreed. “But I don’t need you to listen, either. Our souls are connected, remember?”
Inside, Yuuji leaned down to kiss Sukuna. Outside, Sukuna thrust into him.
There was some lubrication from the spit, but Sukuna hadn’t bothered to prepare him beyond forcing him to relax. He groaned in agony, tears beading in his eyes and running down his cheeks, where Sukuna brushed them away. On the edge of his vision, he could see the tongue in Sukuna’s stomach lapping at the air, like it wanted to taste his tears as well.
The tears also fell on Sukuna’s kimono as they kissed. Yuuji had no real idea what he was doing, so he didn’t try to lick and bite like Sukuna had before. His soul felt Sukuna’s pleasure as he raped him, but it didn’t understand it. He pressed their lips together, and hoped it was kind.
“What are you doing?” Sukuna said.
“I don’t know,” Yuuji admitted. His body felt a particularly painful thrust, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying out, falling forward onto his elbows. Beneath him, Sukuna felt it too, jerking upward with wide eyes from the phantom sensation. Every inch of their bodies was pressed together. Through the tears, he smiled. “But I don’t think you know what you’re doing either.”
“It feels good!” Sukuna snapped, his face screwed up, torn between pride and Yuuji’s pain. His soft cock pressed against Yuuji’s thigh belied his words.
Yuuji kissed him again, and willed his uniform to disappear. Sukuna’s kimono he just pulled open, enjoying the feel of the silk without caring for the physics of the cloth. Their cocks bumped together without any real technique, but they both gasped at the stimulation, growing hard together.
“I want it to be nice,” he said softly, cradling the Sukuna inside his arms. Outside, Sukuna thrust faster inside him, slicked by something that must be blood. His lower cock rubbed between Yuuji’s thighs, rough with friction and sweat. Out there, he still wasn’t hard.
In his domain, Yuuji took his cock in a shaking hand and clumsily guided it between Sukuna’s legs. When he prodded at Sukuna’s taint and then his tailbone, Sukuna snapped his teeth at him like a dog. “Here.” he said, and blindly grasped at Yuuji’s arm, tugging him into the right position. Yuuji’s cock was slick with imagined lube as he pressed it into his ass. He didn’t want to be like Sukuna. He wanted it to be nice.
Sukuna was hot inside. It overwhelmed him and he stopped halfway in, Sukuna’s cock trapped between their stomachs at an awkward angle. He pulled out and thrust again, another shallow movement contrasting with Sukuna’s rapid, brutal pace in the physical world.
It hurt. It felt good. Sukuna looked down on him in smug enjoyment. Sukuna looked up at him with a bitter grimace.
Belatedly, Yuuji realized he was fucking Sukuna in earnest, hands fisted in the grass around them till the blades turned wet with sweat. Beneath him – above him – Sukuna was breathing in short, sharp pants.
Yuuji bit down on Sukuna’s pec, trying to do anything to distract himself from the pain and the way their bodies gummed together with sweat and blood. That was what pushed him over the edge, cumming inside Yuuji with a quiet moan, a surprisingly tender sound.
The heat of the cum inside him made Yuuji twitch, hips jerking forward, and the Sukuna within his domain came as well, his cock spurting up onto Yuuji’s abs. The feeling of cum on his skin was honestly kind of gross, and the way it ran into Sukuna’s bellybutton and squished between their skin didn’t improve it.
Sukuna started to writhe, trying to dislodge Yuuji. “Disgusting!” he snapped, abruptly pushing at Yuuji with enough force to make his cock slide out of him. Yuuji hadn’t thought he was close to orgasm – certainly his physical body wasn’t – but the feeling of slipping out of Sukuna’s ass as his walls twitched around him was enough. He went abruptly taut, his cock spilling cum over Sukuna’s hole. Beneath him, Sukuna came again, untouched.
Yuuji rolled over on his side and onto the grass, landing with a thump. His lips mere millimeters from Sukuna’s ear. “Do you understand now?” he asked, barely above a breath. “When he touches your soul out there, you’re one. But my soul is connected to both of you, always. In here, you feel what I feel. You feel how he hurt me.”
“You liked it.” Sukuna said. His eyes were filled with loathing. “In here, you liked it.”
“Did you?”
“I felt what you felt.” Sukuna spoke the words like they were being carved out of him. Maybe they were.
“I was afraid of our connection, before.” Yuuji pulled his eyes away from Sukuna and looked up. There was still a ribcage overhead, but beyond it there was blue sky and wispy clouds. Not the belly of the beast, but new life amid its fossil. “I was scared of knowing what happened to Fushiguro and knowing it was my fault. I didn’t want to feel you enjoy it. I think other people were afraid you could steal knowledge from my mind or something, but I knew you thought I was too far beneath you to try. That was pretty dumb of you, you know, because as soon as we were separate I could feel how similar our souls were.”
“Get to the point.”
“The first time I ate you, I was stupid.” Yuuji sat up and looked down at Sukuna. He hadn’t bothered to imagine clothes back on them, and the sight made him snort involuntarily. “I did it this time because I knew I could digest you.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Sukuna said, pushing himself up to his elbows.
Yuuji looked away again, out towards the endless horizon and the end of their innate domain. “When you and the Sukuna out there are one again, what do think will happen?”
He let his words hang in the air. Sukuna’s cursed energy seethed beside him.
“Don’t think I regret it, brat,” he said at last.
“I didn’t expect you to.” Yuuji stood up and held out a hand. Sukuna didn’t take it, eyeing it like it was a venomous snake. Yuuji shrugged, and headed down the hill, back into his body.