Chapter Text
Itadori Yuuji believed when he was younger that wishing upon a star would truly bring his desires to life.
Yuuji was one who would look to the future from time to time again when he was younger, too. He was an imaginative mind at that, and the stars that shone above during the most colorful of twilight only fueled what could be long into the future when he was like his old man, living in peace while humanity only looked forward in life.
It was a naïve dream, of course. An unrealistic possibility that existed only in the minds of those who held onto their innocence and compassion for their significant others. It was a dream meant for humanitarians, not for political figures or the people who decided the direction in which humanity would thrive at its best. Yuuji was only a child with a dream too big for others to be satisfied, yet he dreamt it anyway without a problem.
That same Yuuji, when he was 15 years of age, had also defeated the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, a deity who had evaded a natural death to live on forever as a curse. A curse that held remorse in his heart for the very vessel he so happened to arise in, wishing nothing more than the torture and displeasure of Yuuji's existence. It was a simple correlation, really: Yuuji was that vessel.
But the vessel held strong, fighting the urge to succumb and let himself drift away from consciousness to let the curse wreak havoc. Yuuji was a strong soul, one who wouldn't be tarnished easily by death itself, but death en masse, as well as death to those close to him, had shaped Yuuji from an adolescent boy to a dangerous and experienced sorcerer who held a cold gaze, the innocence he cherished burned away by the flames of the curse that summoned them.
The battle of the great King of Curses was a heavy and tense one, but one that came out victorious for Itadori as, in due time, he learned to wield such a power so impossible to perform consistently that it begged the question of many experienced sorcerers and elders: How could a boy born without cursed energy tame the Sparks of Black within months of his introduction to sorcery?
Even the boy himself had no defined answer to give, and those who had witnessed the prowess of power were as speechless.
The Black Flash was a phenomenon that was said to be born out of chance, of a perfection of cursed energy that existed in such a minuscule amount of time that it was impossible for those to strike with such power, even with experience and the perfection of cursed energy output. Only a few were able to tally these attacks to their record, unable to reach the title of four consecutive attacks...and yet, in the midst of a hard-fought battle full of tension and anxiety against the most powerful being in existence, the boy had managed to rise to the occasion, exceeding the record beyond humanly possible.
Whether this was a blessing, a curse, or proof that Itadori Yuji existed outside the natural order of jujutsu itself, remained unknown for decades and decades to come. Yuuji was a once-in-a-lifetime abnormality that had conveniently existed when evil came to cause chaos and anarchy. A blessing that had its own heart and soul that came with a smile and a personality contagious to others.
But that boy was human too, just like the sorcerer who guided him along with his comrades. Without exception, Yuuji had his own limitations as humanity would expect of him to...but that was before he became the key to defeating Ryomen Sukuna, and before the boy found out about the horrible truth of his parents' past. With the inclusion of consuming high-grade cursed objects, the boy had become an in-between of human and curse, the pendulum on the scale of being swinging steadily back and forth, unable to choose the concrete identity of Yuuji without stopping its hypnotic motion.
Was he a curse?
Or
Was he a human?
Some say he was neither, and Yuuji couldn't blame them for thinking that.
He was only a presence on the earth now, a man with scars that held stories of the destruction, a gaze with dull eyes that told everyone he was older than he appeared and had seen more than anyone should, and a tone that suggested that his humanity was the curse that held him captive all along. A state of being he cherished to enjoy to its fullest, not knowing it would be stripped away as the young grew old, while he stayed strikingly young, never passing the age of 15. He'd seen those notable succumb to time, and others to unfortunate circumstances that only made the man wince, feeling saddened that they couldn't have met a more peaceful demise.
That's what everyone deserved, at least. A life long lived, and a death long tranquil. They deserved loved ones to be surrounding them on their deathbeds, holding an honorary silence as they slipped from the mortal world and transcended to the possible afterlife, if there was one to welcome the souls of the departed.
So Yuuji held a promise to himself to attend to those who were awaiting their own passings, standing to the side as his friends took their last breaths, leaving quietly while the man kept silent, letting them go peacefully before calling caretakers to inform them of the inevitable news. He did this for all of them, standing or sitting quietly within the smell of anti-bacterial disinfectant and the sound of machines humming to barely keep them from fading too fast. It was a sound and smell he hated, especially with the machines. He thought they were bothersome trying to keep one single human alive, and was tempted to destroy them in courtesy of the person on the deathbed, but he slowly became accustomed to the droning noise, not even batting an eye to it's beeps and whirs.
Soon, he found himself alone, days after the final one, being Nobara Kugisaki, had taken their turn to leave their bodies behind in silence. The final person had been especially hurt, seeing that they were one of his few friends who stayed as long as they had. The man had grown solemn over time, his attire now sporting an inconspicuous style and hiding his face with a hood, the very thing he had used to dislike due to how inconvenient he viewed them when younger. He laughed to himself, an empty one that was, finding it humorous how he had been so childish before.
But since his friend's passing, he found himself void of words, void of expression. It was a common occurrence, falling mute and grieving the souls he spent time with after they faded away, but this occasion had especially put him through a silent torment, his being falling gray as the clouds overhead, threatening to rain upon the lonely man and fitting the atmosphere greatly.
The walk home was a long one. Not that it was far in distance, but Yuuji's legs didn't move as they used to, admittedly.
He couldn't remember the last time he really struggled in a fight with sorcerers or curses. All it took was a few effortless attacks to render his opponent defeated or exorcised. A far cry from the boy who had the weight of the world on his shoulders from long ago, when victory felt so far away, and his hope was barely clinging on. He thought he would hate that feeling of despair.
Now, he dared to say he yearned for it. Yearned to feel what it was like when he wasn't at the top again, when everything was weaker except himself. A pitiful mindset for the broken.
"I want to become strong. Please teach me how to become the strongest!"
Yuuji didn't know of the consequences that would come with such an immature request, and he loathed how he asked for inviolability, the ability to be untouched by others, simply because he was far out of anyone's league to even be touched. He wasn't gifted with the Limitless, yet he might as well have been, considering how he hadn't gotten a laceration since.
Yuuji kept walking alongside the road of his hometown, Sendai, where it had drastically changed and grown over the span of 68 years. A long time indeed, but the place he called home was preserved in history, his home still the same as it had been the following January, when he came home 67 years ago. He couldn't bear to redesign the interior. His grandfather made it as it was, and it was the only living memory of anyone he had left.
He might as well try his best to maintain it for the next 220 years.
Yuuji shook the thought off, continuing his trek back to his abode as the clouds overhead hung low, stretching thin across the horizon, and the noticeable thinning seemed to prompt a break. Yuuji didn't anticipate the sun returning anytime soon this evening, but he wouldn't mind it if it did. If the sidewalk wasn't still broken after years of neglect, however, then the walk would've been smoother, so maybe he really was wishing for the sun to appear after all.
Nonetheless, he kept stride and fell back into the depths of his mind, his home being the only destination he needed to reach as the sky overhead continued to mourn with him.
Empty. That was the only way to fully describe how the world felt when Yuuji unlocked the door to his home. It was an emotional emptiness, a lack of energy that used to buzz throughout the home while no soul occupied it, a stark contrast to long ago when his 12-year-old self ran through the home, having a party of one while his imagination ran rampant, sparking short-lived fantasies that felt so real and present at the same time. Now, the energy was gone, replaced by a dormant buzz of false anticipation and a dusty space that needed a deep clean in certain nooks and corners. He had only really made sure his room and the kitchen were in decent condition, being that they were the only places he spent most of his time at home. The bathroom was not as nice, but it was still taken care of as it should have been. His grandfather's room was completely untouched, a moment in history frozen when his death had occurred. There were things left in Yuuji's name, he figured, that sat in rotting boxes or containers, not knowing they were ever meant for him.
He decided that once he turned 100, he would bother to go through whatever was left in there for him, but as of now, he still had 14 more years until then. 14 more years of suffering to endure before the questions he longed for answers to would be found or explained.
He didn't exactly know why he forced this self-torture upon his being. It was an impulsive behavior, no doubt, but he was blind to the reason.
Yuuji shut the door behind him after a moment of zoning out, locking it behind him as he walked towards his room. Upon entry, he was met with darkness; his curtains to the outside shut tight, while the LED lights, being the only new thing he installed just because he found them favorable, were off. Itadori sighed to himself, flipping the switch as a purple hue enveloped the room with its soft tone, painting everything in its violet and rather depressing mood.
...seems I forgot to turn it back to white before I left today...it feels okay, though. I don't mind it.
Yuuji stepped further into the room, letting the bolt click behind him as his entire self became one with the hue as his grey hoodie reflected the light. Yuuji made his way over to his bed, taking careful steps before sitting down on the mattress, staring at the poster across the wall that had since faded to the point of unrecognition.
What was it again...I think it was some chic in a bikini...But I can't remember.
Yuuji could've cared less about it now. He was tired. Mentally and physically. He didn't mind ceasing his existence for a bit, lying in his bed while his worries and emotions fell suppressed under the fatigue that grew within. It was a worrying thought, but, in the context of it, one that was oddly relatable to others.
But he wasn't going to let that get in the way of the tradition he did weekly before he'd succumb to the slumber.
Aside from the bed sat a nightstand. This nightstand wasn't particularly important in any manner; being a basic table to support a lamp and a clock to tell the time, but atop this nightstand was a phone. The phone that Yuuji had been gifted by the Six Eyes when the days were young, as well as himself. Yuuji kept the phone ever since, not daring to give it up as it held important sentimental value.
What was on the phone was nothing more than memories now. Digital recordings of the past that lived eternally on a hard drive that was barely functioning, if you were to put it up against current, rivaling technology. Replacement of such a device was no longer possible. Older tech had died out years ago, and Yuuji couldn't give it up, no matter what.
Picking up the phone, Yuuji turned on the screen to be met with visible cracks and the background he'd refuse to change since he got it: A selfie of him wearing a pair of goofy tiger sunglasses meant for little kids and a silly face, while the white-haired albino that posed in the photo held a finger to the edge of his nose, obnoxiously flaring his nostrils while he wore a pair of nearly black shades to protect his eyes from the world around him. When he had taken it then, he didn't think much about how memorable it would be; just being a silly little screensaver with one of the three he gave his kindness and love to.
Now, with the man in the picture long gone in a grave, it felt unreal that such a moment could have existed in a fragment of time. Never had it crossed the man's mind that one day, someone who had been able to make everything feel less horrible when death was a recurring factor, was only a name on a grave, or a whisper in the wind of Jujutsu. The soul that had been known was no longer, and the mention of the name Satoru Gojo was one of legendary status and a reference to the standard set in the world of sorcery, not a man struggling with the pressure of the world on his back since his birth, and the man who was more human than anyone else.
Yuuji, staring at his lockscreen a moment longer, finally swiped up and navigated to his photo album, a motion he had done numerous times, to the point that it was an automatic gesture; one he couldn't help.
The photo album consisted of 12 videos and 104 photographs of the past. Yuuji always started with the photos. They were less painful to see first before hearing the sound of youth echo throughout the room, voices of many who were never to speak again. Various people who made an impact on Itadori's life were simple flashbacks.
Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Satoru Gojo, Maki Zen'in, Yuuta Okkotsu, and so on...they were nothing but ghosts and the lasting memory of a single man who would carry their wills for 300 years more.
Every photo Itadori came across built a sickening presence in his stomach slowly and surely. Every smile was a jab to the gut. Every happy moment was a throb to his heart.
Then, the first video came with a distorted sound; the speakers in the phone were beyond their working condition, but they worked enough to be made clear of the voices.
"Hey, Kugisaki! Fushiguro! C'mon, you guys gotta check this out!"
"The hell do you want, Itadori?"
"Gojo's brought something back from his trip! He said it's urgent; c'mon!"
"Don't fall for it, Kugisaki. Gojo-sensei's just trying to scare us."
"But what if he actually bought something for us? You can't just always be so negative, Fushiguro. Besides, Yuuji would, hopefully, never do that to us."
"Yeah, why would I? C'mon, hurry!"
"Kugisaki, I'm telling you this isn't a good-"
"BOO!!!"
"UUUUWAA!"
"WHAAA- oh what the hell is your problem, Gojo-sensei!"
"Gotcha! I figured Megs here would get suspicious, so I initiated my fool-proof plan B; scare you two when you least expected it, and it worked flawlessly!"
"Good one, sensei! Thanks for saving it."
"Of course. I wouldn't let you just stand there like an awkward child, y'know. I could never fail my students-"
The video suddenly paused by itself mid-play, a single tear drop falling from the face of a grieving man being the cause of it, as Yuuji could bear the pain no longer. Turning the phone off and setting it on the nightstand to prevent more tears from falling upon the screen, Yuuji fell onto his pillow, tears streaming down from his eyes and creating a moist patch upon the cloth. No sobs escaped his throat; he had fallen to the point where he couldn't, but the tears felt relieving, seeing that he hadn't cried in a while.
As his tears took over his emotions, the factor of stress and exhaustion began to weigh heavily down upon his soul, and he felt himself drifting while feeling numb. His eyes started to droop, and his breathing slowed to only a subtle repetition
Before he closed his eyes, however, the man let a few words slip beyond his conscious thought. An impulsive wish that he knew was pointless to ask.
"...Just...one more time...I wish...to go back...for one more...time..."
The man was fast asleep before his mind caught up to it, and the house fell silent once more. Outside, the clouds had parted, letting the stars leak through as they did 68 years before...
...However, unknowingly to Yuuji, a spectacular occurrence happened as he muttered his wish. A single shooting star streaked across the sky, burning through the atmosphere just over mainland Japan. To scientists and astrophysicists, this was a simple meteor that had made its way to Earth before burning up in the atmosphere.
But with this specific one in question, there was more to it than met the eye. A sense of something magical and mesmerizing that even the greatest of sorcerers couldn't comprehend its beauty.
The following morning, the house was empty of the man again, the bed alone, and the phone next to it still holding the memories of long ago.
Only this time, nothing had been disturbed, as Yuuji never stepped foot out of his home that day...
"Hey, sir. Wake up. You're not supposed to be sleeping out back behind here. Get your drunk ass home and sleep in your own bed, 'cause you aren't welcome to sleep wherever you please."
Yuuji, who had been sleeping peacefully just moments ago, woke suddenly to the feeling of another nudging him awake and the voice of an irritated man. Confusion spreading across his body, Yuuji blinked awake, and his eyes landed on what seemed to be a waiter for a restaurant standing in the middle of an alleyway, looking rather irritated after discovering a hooded man passed out near a dumpster.
"Wha...who the hell are you?"
"I should be asking you that. Are you able to stand and actually think for yourself, or is 'sober' not a correct way to identify you as of this moment?"
Yuuji was growing more confused as he got accustomed to his surroundings, sitting up straighter as he let the hood fall, revealing his naturally pink hair pushed back similarly to the curse he fought long ago, or that was what he thought of it himself. Others said it looked closer to his late mentor, Nanamin Kento, and as much as he valued that comparison between him and Nanamin, he knew he would never live up to the standards that the sorcerer had set for himself. Aside from the point, the question of sobriety towards Yuuji threw him in a loop, for he never licked a drop of alcohol in his life.
"...I wasn't drunk, sir...I...don't even know where I am, or what the time is."
"Yeah, go figure...alright, since I feel a little generous, I'll pick you up to speed. You're currently behind a sushi restaurant in Sendai, Japan. The current time and date as of now is 8:34 AM, June 21st, 2018. Does that ring a bell for you?"
Yuuji blinked once, unsure if he heard the man right.
2018...that shouldn't be right...Maybe I heard wrong?
"Sorry...you said 2018?"
"Yeah. The 18th year of the second millennium. Do I gotta be more philosophical 'bout it, or-"
The man could not finish his words before Yuuji suddenly rose to his feet, towering over the man as the feeling of tiredness disappeared instantly, feeling his heart rapidly increase in its percussion.
That shouldn't be right. No way that's right.
Surely he didn't end up in the past. This had to be a dream.
Yuuji felt his gut twist as he tried to make up any excuse to fill in why this was happening, why he had woken up 68 years ago in the alley of his hometown.
The man stood for a moment in front of Yuuji, trying to find his words, before Yuuji suddenly dashed out of the alley, not daring to look back.
"H-hey, wait- ah forget it. Good luck, man!"
Yuuji ignored it, too distracted by the revelation as he broke out of the dark alley, the light of the sun nearly piercing his eyes as he adjusted to the level of brightness he was exposed to. Cars could be heard passing by as colors began to fall to a suitable intensity, and people who were walking by simply maneuvered around the dazed and distraught man in the middle of the sidewalk.
Yuuji's breath caught in his throat as his head slowly panned around, taking in the skyline of what he once knew to be.
He couldn't believe a second of this.
"...no...no no no...this...can't be real."
By some impossible odds that seemed to either be in his favor or a mock to his yearning, Itadori Yuuji, age 83, had woken up 68 years in the past, just three days before a life would spiral into hell. Three days before Ryomen Sukuna would reincarnate into a boy full of innocence, and a boy who could still wear a smile despite how he himself faced an execution that would never be.
And that boy was Yuuji himself.