Chapter Text
Choso had been searching for Tanso until the skin on his hands was blistered and uncomfortable, fingers stained a permanent red and purple from digging through the impossible amounts of debris.
His hair was down, sticking to his neck and his forehead with sweat and contrasting with his pale skin. His eyes felt puffy, painfully sensitive as they continued to water helplessly.
Choso kept having to rub at them, scowling under his breath as he fell onto one of his knees and clutched at his chest in confusion. His lungs were constricted, breathing a panicked and raspy sound that weighed heavy in his own ears.
The sensation of an overwhelming panic attack was a new one, leaving Choso’s mind in complete tatters as he tried to logically ground himself.
He had buried Yuji’s corpse in a tunnel to keep him from Noritoshi, pulled out of his own stupor of thought by the faint pull of Tanso’s consciousness through their bond.
Before that, he had just been sitting there… completely at a loss on what to do.
Choso had failed to protect his younger brothers, killed Yuji himself and played directly into the palm of Noritoshi’s plan. Choso didn’t understand the full extent of it, but he was slowly starting to realize how little the powerful sorcerer had cared about his allies in the first place.
His own children. The natural disaster curses that they had originally planned to work alongside.
Choso absolutely despised that vile man, anger flashing through the most stubborn parts of his mind and combining with the sheer amount of pain that he felt in a brutal mix of suffering.
Choso ended up taking a fetal position in the middle of several clumps of rock and destroyed gravel, holding tightly onto his legs as he pressed them against his chest.
His dark eyes were still watering, leaving cold tracks down his face that pooled underneath him as he sniffled pitifully.
There was a long pause of silence, when Choso began to doubt that Tanso had truly survived in the first place.
He had failed him.
He had failed Yuji, Eso, and Kechizu as well.
It made him feel something cold in the center of his stomach, like a heavy rock that crushed him internally and made his body feel numb.
Choso couldn’t stop sniffling and hiccuping quietly, letting his eyes drift closed as they continued to sting with fresh tears. He stopped trying to rub them away, squeezing his legs a little tighter as a dry sob began to rise from his chest.
Grieving felt so painful. It felt like something was wrenching him from the inside out, his hands shaky and useless as they clutched at his shredded robes instinctively.
Then Choso felt a small pull on another one of the bonds between him and his brothers, a small spark of life that was stronger than Tanso’s had been.
It was more obvious, flickering back into existence like a livewire and immediately making Choso turn tense.
He stopped moving entirely, holding his breath as he cracked open his eyes and sunk further forward silently. He was trying to process what he felt, brows pinching together as something lightened the panic that was practically crushing his chest.
Yuji was alive.
One of his younger brothers was actually alive, but barely. The spark was incredibly faint, but it was definitely there. Unlike Tanso’s, he could track it… feel the pull of their more subtle bond.
Choso swallowed nervously, moving incredibly slowly at first. He was almost hesitant to do so, fearing the absolute worst.
What if Yuji was dead when he got there? What if Tanso came back, needed him… and Choso wasn’t there?
The Death Painting was trying desperately to consider his actions, turning his head helplessly as Yuji’s signal only seemed to grow weaker and weaker.
Choso decided to pursue Yuji’s small chance of survival after he recognized another presence nearby him, rage boiling deep in his blood as he uncovered the small tunnel that he had made in an attempt to protect Yuji’s corpse. It had been a last effort to try and preserve the young sorcerer from the very man who always seemed to be one step ahead of him.
The man that he would absolutely destroy for using him and causing the deaths of his brothers, for tricking him into killing his younger brother so casually.
Choso was fighting Noritoshi with what little stamina and strength that he had left, throwing all of his cursed energy into offensive attacks that were concentrated solely on the bastard himself.
He was in the body of another Curse Manipulator, a taller man with shorter cut black hair and a long piece of it dangling from his head like a tail. His eyes were a deep purple, almost black, and his skin was white like marble.
Compared to the previous vessel of Suguru Geto, this new one had a higher amount of cursed energy. It moved faster, striking Choso in quick jabs that sent pinpricks of pain up the smaller curse’s entire body.
When Choso stumbled backwards, Noritoshi took the opportunity to try and escape. He summoned a cursed spirit from another pool of white cursed energy, a large bird-like curse that started to lift him into the sky.
Noritoshi had grabbed onto one of its ankles, looking back at Choso with a wicked grin and a cold scoff.
Choso glared at him and snarled, summoning a ring of blood that cut into the Earth underneath him. The Death Painting used it to carve out a platform and make it rise dramatically, launching him in the taller sorcerer’s direction with a staggering amount of force.
Noritoshi just laughed, his expression only twisting into a wider smirk as Choso managed to cut down the curse that he was using to escape. The taller sorcerer was just letting himself fall, white robes catching in the wind as he looked up at Choso through thick white eyelashes.
“Why are you pushing yourself? You must be exhausted.” Noritoshi teased softly, making the curse snarl in response. He jumped after him, hands crossed in the front of his face as thick drops of blood started to gather around the gaps in his fingers.
“So what?” Choso spat darkly, glare only hardening as he used the blood around him to propel himself further forward. He was gritting his teeth hard enough to make them crack, seething with absolute anger that felt like venom underneath his skin.
Noritoshi just chuckled again, summoning another cursed spirit to catch himself and pull him out of Choso’s limited range.
Choso slammed into the ground and caused a devastating shockwave, chasing after the sorcerer once more with a loud snarl. He was running faster than he had in his brief period of rebirth, feeling the effect it had on his lungs and heart with an acute sense of fascination.
His body felt physically sore, legs protesting from the action immediately in glaring display of human weakness.
Human?
Surely that was a joke.
Choso distantly wondered if Yuji ever felt the same way. He felt a strange amount of empathy for his younger brother, inwardly cursing himself for pushing him so far in the first place.
Choso had to force those thoughts down, his eyes already starting to burn again as he lunged at Noritoshi with his palms clasping firmly in front of him. He was preparing himself to unleash another Convergence attack, a deep scowl in place as cursed energy began to bleed through him with an overwhelming amount of conviction.
Noritoshi just smiled again, his face perfectly molded into the expression as he playfully pointed a hand pistol in Choso’s direction.
The Death Painting had assumed it was just an attempt to mock him, but then a cursed spirit spawned at the tip of his finger. Noritoshi was crushing it, forcing it into a small and concentrated ball like a bullet.
Its cursed energy was forced to condense, becoming a devastating amount of force and momentum that was pointed in Choso’s direction.
“… I will say, Satoru is much more creative with Curse Manipulation than Suguru is.” Noritoshi laughed like he was telling some kind of joke, smoothing his hair back completely nonchalantly and releasing his attack right in the direction of Choso’s bare chest. “Why don’t you lie down, Choso?”
The curse’s eyes widened, arms struggling to brace himself in time as the cursed spirit was shot through his forearms and his torso completely. It created a perfectly symmetrical hole, which spurted with blood and made Choso’s heart stop from alarm.
Choso coughed up a surprising amount of blood as well, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he missed Noritoshi completely and fell towards the wreckage in a perfect curve. He skidded across the rubble and scratched every inch of his skin, slamming into a towering piece of the Jujutsu headquarters exposed foundation and snapping something in his lower back.
White hot pain flooded every one of Choso’s nerves, his lower body rendered completely useless as a terrifying sense of paralysis started to overcome him.
Choso actually whimpered, a pitiful sound that was sharp with pain and desperation.
There was a hole in the middle of his chest, barely missing his vitals but still pooling with enough bright red blood to make the Death Painting’s head spin. The attack had shot through his arms as well, breaking his wrists in the process and leaving Choso completely vulnerable.
Choso couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t close his hands into a fist.
He could only manipulate the blood around him, which felt more difficult to do so than usual. Choso’s vision was fuzzy, nerves still sharp with pain as his ears started to ring loudly.
It took a moment for him to realize that the loud raspy noise coming from his chest was his breathing, his eyes rounding in concern as he managed to lift himself up on his elbows.
Noritoshi dropped down from the cursed spirit that he had been using, humming softly to himself as he approached the Death Painting with his hands clasped behind his back.
“That’s not all Satoru figured out to do using his technique, you know.” Noritoshi said boldly, a smile stretching across his face as his dark purple eyes turned cold from sad*stic amusem*nt. “Isn’t that fascinating? No matter the universe, it seems he always outshines the others. It’s a pattern, Choso… just like you failing will always be a pattern. Just like the weak always being crushed… just like those beloved brothers of yours… will always be a recurring pattern.” Noritoshi’s voice turned soft, unmatching his cruel words. His head tilted to the side, mouth pursed into a wide smile. “It doesn’t matter how hard you try, or how strong and clever you are… you won’t be able to save them. None of them. All of you were made to be used… and then thrown away. When Sukuna’s ready, even Yuji will be cast out. You were incredibly helpful in that regard, by the way.”
Choso snarled again, forcing the blood around him to turn rigid and spike outwards in long and sharp needle-like points. He sent them flying in Noritoshi’s direction, completely unprepared for the blow that connected with him from behind.
A cursed spirit grabbed him by the back of the skull and slammed his face into the ground, breaking his nose and splitting his bottom lip open.
Choso made a winded and injured wheezing noise, forced to go completely still as more of his spine was crunched underneath the heavier curse’s weight.
Choso was angry. He was furious.
His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, vision fuzzy around the edges and useless as he once again felt like he was floating in a tube somewhere. Completely helpless, sealed behind glass and kept alive by a warm liquid that filled him completely.
He had been unable to move, but the only one of his brothers to be consciously active. The only one that could watch, his witnessing of several violent atrocities making him so much more protective. He developed his techniques, readied himself…
His younger brothers had relied on him. That turned into something that a curse never should have been able to feel properly, something positive and warm and it was being used against him like a weapon.
Choso hated how much that hurt. He hated how scary that was, completely helpless to an invisible dagger that twisted and cut and carved its way into his chest.
“… bastard.” Choso choked on the blood in his mouth, spitting out some of his broken teeth as he clawed at the cursed spirit behind him.
It was nearly double his size, a creature with dark gray skin and a dog-like snout with exposed bloody teeth. Its eyes were empty and unmoving sockets, black fur occasionally lining its incredibly thin body.
Choso tried to overpower it, grunting in pain when his face was pressed even further into the broken gravel. Jagged pieces of rock were cutting into his skin, causing a couple of yellow and green bruises to start forming.
“What sets you apart from that thing, hm? Definitely not my blood… I can almost see the resemblance, Choso.” Noritoshi sneered, starting to laugh at the Cursed Womb’s obvious discomfort and pain. “This has been fun… but I really need to know where Tokao is. Yuji isn’t out of my range just yet, you know…”
Noritoshi’s eyes went several shades darker, smile deviously tight as he summoned another one of those tightly compressed cursed spirit rounds at the tip of his finger.
“At this point, its probably eaten Tanso… and its probably regained most of its cursed energy. I doubt it could have gotten far… and I really hate doing things myself, you know?” Noritoshi pointed the attack in Choso’s direction, watching his dark eyes narrow in retaliation.
Choso was glaring at him with the half of his face that he managed to turn in his direction, his fingers digging harshly into the loose pieces of rubble as a deep snarl escaped his smaller frame.
“… that’s because you’re a coward. A bastard of a parent… and a stain to everyone around you.” Choso growled, manipulating a small stream of his blood that had managed to spread down underneath Noritoshi’s left foot. The taller sorcerer didn’t seem to notice, starting to snicker and break out into a harsh laugh. He opened his mouth to say something, but Choso wasn’t finished. “I am grateful that none of us… inherited anything from absolute scum like you.”
Choso snapped, closing one of his hands into a fist.
A thin spike of blood completely shot through Noritoshi’s foot, aiming essentially for the center of his forehead. Choso prioritized speed and precision to catch the older sorcerer off guard, using his entire upper body at the same time to push the larger cursed spirit off of him.
He grabbed it by its skinny neck, shouting in exertion as he pulled into the sharp pieces of blood that he had already summoned.
The top of Noritoshi’s skull ripped free, comically spinning in a complete circle as the stitches were torn and blood cascaded down his face.
The bastard still laughed, using the momentum of his action to block Choso’s attack entirely. The thin piece of blood shattered, leaving no mark whatsoever as Noritoshi only seemed to sacrifice a few layers of skin.
Fleshy pale pink flesh was exposed, dripping with a transparent liquid in the middle of Noritoshi’s exposed skull. Blood and something rotten dripped down from the clean cut of Noritoshi’s head, as something that mimicked a human brain had been forcibly freed.
Human teeth poked out of the fatty flesh in a linear manner, similar to a normal mouth, but there were no muscles around them to move. The thing couldn’t even grin, pulsing with cursed energy and an obscene amount of gore.
It had been damaged, scar tissue covering most of its fleshy surface in webs of burns and black rotten flesh.
Choso was absolutely disgusted, face twitching on instinct as he was crushed underneath the dog-like cursed spirit’s heavy mass. He was frustrated, stubbornly keeping his mouth shut in defeat as he glared at Noritoshi through his bangs.
“Oh how humorous…” Noritoshi sneered quietly, taking a moment to right himself as he removed his foot from the spike of blood and turned around to fetch the top half of his skull. “Clever as always, Choso… I’m starting to think you’re the one that’s most like me. It would explain your intelligence and intuition…”
Noritoshi hummed in thought, turning the bloody piece of black hair and flesh over in his hands. Dark eyes flickered to stare at Choso again, stare incredibly critical and cold. He started to reattach the pieces of his head completely nonchalantly, smirking the entire time.
Choso started to snarl, going completely still when the shadow of something long and thin started to spread out in front of him, almost like a snake…
“… okay, you’re not Suguru Geto like the reports suggested.” A voice grumbled suddenly from above them, grabbing Noritoshi’s attention. “Whatever, I’ll ask anyway. What type of woman are you into, huh brainiac?”
Noritoshi looked up at the new coming figure with something caught between a grimace and a grin, eyes squinting in disdain as a deep sneer was pulled from his chest.
“Yuki Tsukumo…”
— Earlier —
“I finished setting up the talismans! We shouldn’t have to worry about that curse anymore, at least for now. I used my best ones!” Yu shouted enthusiastically, turning towards Kento with a wide smile.
The blonde sorcerer was sitting up against a cracked piece of rubble, holding the recently healed injury in his stomach with a deep frown. His expression was tight with pain, burns wrapped in loose fitting bandages that were already soaking through slightly with blood. The skin underneath was still sensitive and raw, permanently scarred with web-like patterns of damaged skin.
Yu had prioritized healing his stomach, which had thankfully stabilized his condition. His entire torso was still wrapped with bandages, however, and judging by his lack of response he was completely blind in his left eye.
Yu wished he could have done more.
There was a heavy sense of guilt that was resting on his shoulders because of that. Anxiety thrumming underneath the surface… reminding him of how easy it had been to lose the other sorcerer in the past.
Kento’s shirt had been removed so that the bandages could be applied, which hid nothing from Yu’s worried gaze. Most of his wounds weren’t even visible anymore, but there were still scars… and there was still a sobering amount of blood coming from the wound in his torso.
Other sorcerers in the area had been wounded as well, which was the main reason why Yu had been so busy. He had managed to gather them all in one place, dragging them out of the ruined Jujutsu Headquarters building and searching for them with a simple tracking talisman.
A few others came to help from the frontlines, including a blonde woman that Yu didn’t particularly recognize and a couple students from Kyoto and Tokyo’s Jujutsu High Schools.
The girl that Yu had managed to heal, Yuji’s classmate, was currently out trying to help locate Yuji himself. Kento had warned her about the situation privately, forced to stay still by no one other than Shoko herself.
Yu had yet to officially meet the new version of Shoko, but thankfully Kento seemed to respect her enough to begrudgingly listen to her advice. She had gone over Yu’s work briefly to make sure that Kento was stable enough, but apparently she was in high demand at the moment.
Yu wasn’t sure how much she knew, but he decided against trying to bother her. Pulling her away from her work was something that could end up being a disaster, so he figured that introductions would have to wait.
Since Shoko and the others were working so hard, he tried to make himself useful in other regards. Setting up the talismans had been tedious and a strain beyond what he was already experiencing, but he had managed to secure the area thoroughly. Safety talismans were one of the few spells that he was personally confident in, since practicing them had come as second nature.
When Tengen’s barriers had started to weaken significantly, talismans were needed to reinforce the area around Jujutsu High a few months back in Yu’s original universe. It had been a difficult thing to learn more about and to do, but Yu had always been inclined in using his cursed energy for spells like talismans and seals.
It wasn’t as exciting as Kento’s ratio technique or Gojo or Geto’s abilities, but seeing it useful was a reassuring feeling that somewhat lightened Yu’s self doubt.
“… there is still no sign of Itadori.” Kento said softly, his voice deceptively calm despite the way that his working gray eye darkened noticeably. His head weakly thumped against the stone wall that he was up against, still turned in the direction of the ruined building as his unscathed arm clenched tighter around his torso. ”Or Kugisaki.”
Yu felt himself frown, hesitantly walking over to Kento and crouching down next to him. He bowed his head, staring down at his feet with a long pause.
The dark haired sorcerer was exhausted, his clothes torn and his skin littered in bruises and dust. He was still wearing Kento’s business jacket, which hung loosely off of his shoulders and his arms. The sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows, revealing the blackened tips of his fingers that were dyed with ink.
Yu’s hands were still shaking, dark brown eyes struggling to stay open as he sighed softly in defeat.
“I’m sorry.” Yu forced himself to say, his voice sore and dry as he hesitantly leaned into Kento’s undamaged shoulder. He tried not to put too much of his weight against him, but he found himself doing so almost unconsciously. “I’m sure that they’re fine… right? Yuji seems like a tough kid. Nobara was honestly kind of scary… but she’s tough too, kind of like Em…” Yu immediately cut himself off, biting the inside of his mouth as he started to become tense again. “… they’ll be fine. We have to believe in them.”
Kento watched the dark haired sorcerer quietly, hesitantly releasing himself so that he could wrap his working arm around his shoulders. He pulled him closer, bandaged hand holding firmly onto one of Yu’s so that he could weakly intertwine their fingers. It was an oddly intimate gesture, something soft and comforting at the same time.
Yu forced himself not to squeeze too tightly, nuzzling under Kento’s jaw and letting himself rest more confidently against him. He took a deep breath through his nose, eyes starting to drift shut as he felt Kento’s hand brush against his bruised knuckles.
The other sorcerer didn’t even need to say anything, gently resting the undamaged side of his face on the top of Yu’s head as his eye started to close as well.
Yu was grateful that things weren’t awkward between them after what had happened before, his face already starting to burn from the memory as he felt Kento’s mouth press against one of his temples. He almost felt frozen, a small and sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth.
“… that’s just nasty. Ever heard of PDA or something?” A familiar voice huffed from behind them, which immediately made both Yu and Kento wince. The smaller of the two quickly scrambled upwards, sitting at a comfortable distance from the injured sorcerer as he grinned awkwardly.
“Huh? Oh! I was just…! Checking his bandages! Haha, you’re all good Nanami!” Yu shouted a little too loudly, his face a bright red as he looked between Kento and the scowling face of Nobara herself.
Yuji was with her, practically dragged forward as his limp only seemed worse. The center of his ribcage was practically sunken in, chin stained with blood and his nose ridiculously crooked.
Yu quickly became concerned, his eyes widening in alarm as he approached the two teenagers with a much more unsettled demeanor.
“… oh no, are you okay? That looks bad… here, let’s get you sitting down.”
“It actually… doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. Guess I’m pretty lucky…” Yuji tried to smile, his poor face immediately scrunching up in pain as the torn open side of his cheek caught on his teeth. “It could be worse, right?”
Nobara was a lot shorter than he was, somehow managing to keep Yuji’s weight secure as she led him to a stone pillar that was jutting out of the ground next to Kento. Yu helped her set the pink haired teenager down, searching his supplies for anything useful that he might have left.
“… you never should have taken that on alone. I… sincerely apologize for that, Itadori.” Kento said softly, his voice bitter and heavy with what genuine guilt.
“I was mainly worried about you guys…” Yuji admitted, watching nervously as Yu started to carefully examine his injured leg and his chest. He focused on healing the bones with the reverse cursed technique, frowning at Yuji’s distressed emotions that he started to subconsciously sense through his empathy technique.
Yu tried to subtly soothe them with his cursed energy, reaching out with his ability instinctively for the first time in years. He hadn’t used his empathy technique in such a regard ever since the incident with Gojo and Shoko, applying a small nudge of it to cancel some of the pain that he felt.
Yu was a little anxious to do so, redoubling his efforts with reverse cursed energy at the same time as he amplified both sides of his technique with a surprising amount of effectiveness.
Yuji suddenly started to relax, slumping against the rubble with a small sigh.
“… I thought I was going to lose it. Apparently someone… fed me Sukuna’s fingers? I was so nervous… ‘cause of what happened last time…” Yuji started sniffling, stubbornly squeezing his eyes closed as he wheezed loudly through his teeth. “I thought I was going to… I mean, he’s so angry…”
“You’re handling it extremely well. That’s what you need to focus on. Who did that to you?” Kento asked defensively, starting to sit up.
“Some weird dude with stitches and black hair. Itadori called him another Gojo, but I couldn’t see it to be honest.” Nobara interjected with a snarl, kicking a loose piece of rock as hard as she could. “Where is Gojo anyway? Do any of us know?”
“… last we heard, he was fighting another Sukuna.” Yuji answered darkly, his voice oddly detached. His brow creased as he started to panic again, breathing loud and raggedly. “Do you think he’s okay?! I mean… it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Yu was listening to their conversation and struggling to piece it together, silently focusing on what he was doing to keep himself busy.
All of them were interrupted when Yuji’s phone suddenly started ringing, an update pop song starting to blast from his jacket as the younger sorcerer jolted in surprise.
“That’s Fushiguro!”
“… you gave him a custom ringtone?” Nobara questioned suspiciously.
“Hey, he did that himself. I don’t even know… how to do that stuff.”
“No f*cking way… are you serious?” Nobara laughed heartily, suddenly cutting herself off as she seemed to realize something. Her mouth hung open in surprise as she squinted her warm colored eyes, hands resting on her hips. “This is a cheesy love song, what the hell?”
“Believe it or not, he kind of has a sense of humor.” Yuji said with a shrug, searching for his phone with a frown. “It has his name in it, I guess.”
“… how did I not realize this sooner.” Nobara genuinely seemed mortified about something, inwardly cringing as she shuddered in what seemed to be disgust. “It’s so obvious now… eughhhhh what the hell…”
“What?” Yuji asked dumbly, looking up at the other sorcerer with an expression that was oddly fish-like.
“… I’m… gonna go see what’s up over there.” Nobara grumbled to herself, starting to walk away with her head almost bowed.
Yu glanced over at Kento with a frown, subtly trying to ask him for context on what had just happened. The blonde sorcerer looked just as lost as he did, turning his body so that he was facing forward as he awkwardly cleared his throat.
Yuji started talking into the phone almost immediately, though none of them were expecting Geto to be on the other end.
— Later —
“You f*cking got him EXPELLED?!” Suguru was struggling to open his eyes, vision black and completely fuzzy with a green static. Satoru’s voice was ringing in his ears, grating in the back of his mind with a layer of distortion.
The younger version of Satoru, from his universe. He sounded angry, shouting and snickering in a crazed fashion.
Suguru still couldn’t see him.
“… I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me. You watched me go through all that… and you knew the entire time. Why, huh? Where’s Suguru now, you got any idea?”
“What the f*ck do you mean? You killed his parents? Really smooth. You’re all pathetic, you know that? If you want a monster, then stop trying to make him one. I’m right here, you won’t need anyone else. I’ll kill everything, just watch.”
Suguru couldn’t remember those conversations, picking up bits and pieces like he was somehow listening to a recording… something he wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.
His breathing was a raspy sound in his own ears, pinpricks of pain starting to spread up from his torso as he shivered from a surprisingly cold sensation surrounding him.
His eyes flew open when he heard the laugh from that bizarre cursed version of himself from before, in the innate Domain with the bird skeletons. A circle of green roman numerals flashed underneath his eyelids when he jolted awake, his body snapping into position before the pain forced him to hold still.
Suguru frowned in confusion, vision still blurry as he tried to come to terms with his surroundings.
He was in a bathroom of some kind, only wearing his slacks and one of his socks. Even his belt was missing, the piercings having been removed from his stomach and his chest as well.
Looking down at his bare torso immediately made Suguru freeze.
A line of black and crudely made stitches was the only thing sealing his stomach closed, an even cut suggesting that someone had tediously stitched closed his bleeding organs as well. The incision was still puffy and red, reaching up to his ribs horizontally and bruising the rest of his skin.
He was inside of a filthy bathtub that was filled to the brim with ice, the rest of the bathroom in near disarray as well. A roll of bloody bandages and a bloody pair of scissors were stuffed into a ceramic sink, prison realm resting on the edge of the chipped tile in a way that was purposefully in his line of sight.
Suguru tried to move again only to regret it, making a strained noise in the back of his throat as he slumped backwards again and forced himself to try and breathe.
Pain was spreading up his torso in thick waves like burning tendrils, threading into his lungs and his broken ribs and threatening to tear him open again.
He could feel every inch of damage whenever he moved, every distinct cut and torn open piece of him.
Suguru was forced to breathe through his nose, sweat already making his bangs stick to his face. The rest of his hair was thankfully pulled in a bun off of his neck, but he still felt the telltale signs of a fever starting to burn underneath his skin.
Pushing himself like before had lasting consequences. He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious, or how he was alive in the first place.
Haibara… Megumi… were they safe?
Suguru’s dark amber eyes flickered back to the prison realm, body sore and exhausted as he tried to force himself to move again.
The curse from before… being trapped in that innate Domain, all of it didn’t make sense.
Suguru was sweating, already shaking despite himself as he dragged his body out of the ice. He somehow felt colder, but his blood was boiling… practically burning with some kind of infection, his chest rising and falling in a weak attempt at breathing.
Suguru was only able to feel a small amount of relief when he found the prison realm in his grasp, its dark gray surface covered in what appeared to be bandages. The eyes shifted underneath, powerful cursed energy thrumming from the device as it reacted to Suguru’s presence instinctively.
The dark haired sorcerer slumped downwards onto his knees, leaning against the counter on his elbows with a small sigh.
The torn skin in his abdomen immediately protested from his actions, tugging against the thick black stitches holding it together and drawing a small amount of blood.
Suguru forced his movements to be more reserved, glancing at the open door to the bathroom with a deep frown. He glared at the figure standing there through his long bangs, biting the inside of his mouth stubbornly as he tried to instinctively summon something to protect himself.
His empty arsenal immediately became glaringly obvious again, cursed energy wilting at the edges as empty pools of black spawned behind him.
A feeling of helplessness rested bitterly in his stomach, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
Suguru breathed evenly through his nose, glare only hardening as the side of his face thumped weakly against the sink’s counter as well. He still tried to hold his ground, knuckles turned white as he clutched firmly at his stomach with a wavering expression on his face.
He hoped the pain wasn’t obvious, forcing it deep behind what he hoped was a convincing scowl.
The figure standing in the doorway didn’t seem all that intimidated, starting to lean a little closer in the light as they sighed loudly.
They were pushed aside coincidentally when someone started to bound down the hallway, wearing a torn and filthy animal print sweater with the sleeves completely torn off. A gray business jacket was wrapped around the newcomer's waist, his eyes a dark and warm brown which immediately widened in surprise and concern.
Suguru would have recognized their smile anywhere, bluntly cut dark brown hair obscuring the top of Haibara’s eyes in long bangs. He had gauges in his ears, and he looked taller… somehow bigger as well, a deep cut running all the way from the left side of his jaw to the side of his nose.
He was covered in bruises and small cuts, but for the most part… he was unharmed.
“GETO!” Haibara shouted, skidding to a clumsy stop as he waved his arms to try and keep his balance. There waa a big grin stretching across his face as he wrapped his arms around the smaller sorcerer, on his knees in the bathroom with him as he pulled Suguru into a tight embrace. “Oh my God! You’re alive! I was so worried, I had to do my best and I didn’t have very many supplies left, but we couldn’t move you and I just- everything’s gone so crazy, you know?”
Suguru had to bite back a noise of discomfort, instead returning the gesture with as much strength as he could manage. His arms were still shaking when he wrapped them around Haibara’s shoulders, his eyes starting to sting and burn as he weakly nodded his head.
He tried to say something, but the only thing he could do was cough. His throat was burning, mouth dry and uncomfortable as the taste of iron began to make him nauseous.
“Don’t push yourself! Here, sorry… I know this isn’t the best place, but we needed to operate right away. The uh… the really big guy, Fushiguro I think? He’s out looking for supplies with Megumi and Yuji. Nanami’s in the other room… Shoko’s going to try and meet with us in a few hours, but we’ve been having to keep our heads down.” Yu explained nervously, an awkward smile working its way on his face as he followed Suguru’s gaze to the stranger in the doorframe. “That’s… uh… well he found you. Honestly, there’s so many versions of you and Gojo running around… we’re all just as confused as you guys must be. Come on, you should be resting.”
Yu helped Suguru lean back against the edge of the bathtub, reaching around him to scoop some ice inside of a rag. He tied it off and gently pressed it to Suguru’s torso, frowning down at his bruised ribcage and the small amount of blood that started to seep from his wounds again.
“First thing we need to do is get you eating, okay? I’m making some rice, which is the best thing ever! It will be easy on your stomach. Then we can try something else… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, but you were in pretty bad shape.” Yu sat back on his heels and forced another positive expression on his face, though thanks to his close proximity… Suguru could see the bags under his eyes and how pale his skin was.
The guilt weighed even heavier on his shoulders, his mind starting to swarm with more questions.
Suguru swallowed thickly, forcing himself to speak despite how raw his throat still felt.
“How… long…?”
“How long have you been out? Three days I’d say, give or take. Apparently someone’s been keeping the peace between headquarters and other sorcerers, one of teacher Gojo’s students named Okkotsu and a new member of the Gojo clan that no one recognizes. Our Gojo… hasn’t made a move, so that’s good news! But Yuji’s execution is back on… and… well, Nanami and I are being blamed for what went down at headquarters with that freaky bird curse. So mine’s back on too.” Yu’s voice darkened towards the end of his sentence as his smile almost seemed to turn bitter, hands anxiously clasping in front of himself as he stared down at his feet.
Suguru felt something protective start to rise inside of him again, something that had been beaten back on numerous occasions. It was weak, but a stubborn instinct that immediately made him reach out.
He awkwardly put a hand on Yu’s shoulder, managing to clear most of the dried blood out of his throat.
“That… won’t happen.” Suguru said firmly, trying to be reassuring.
Seeing Yu’s expression start to brighten made his burdens feel a little lighter as well, the younger sorcerer already sitting up straighter.
“Right! We’ll find a way to fix this, right? That’s what I keep saying too. When we get teacher Gojo out of that… creepy box, I think we’ll all be able to work together! Nanami says that’s going to be our top priority!” Yu clasped a hand on top of Suguru’s thinner one, practically chirping as he nodded eagerly and smiled.
Suguru managed to smile at him slightly as well, watching from the corner of his eye as the dark figure shifted once more in the doorway.
He looked familiar in a way that made everything in Suguru turn numb. His blood turned cold, running like ice in his veins as the tall sorcerer ducked underneath the doorframe and leaned against a wall.
He wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t need to. White bandages were obscuring the top half of his face, hair wild and silver and reaching past his shoulders.
It was Satoru, but he wasn’t anything like the two others that Suguru was familiar with. His neck and arms were bandaged as well, all the way past a white Yukata and black robes.
There was no cursed energy coming from him. No sign of his techniques, his frame oddly small and obscured by his loose fitting clothing.
It was bizarre, Suguru immediately starting to grow defensive.
The conversation inside of the powerful cursed spirit’s innate Domain started to worm its way into the back of his mind again, playing like an old record.
“It’s… me, but he lost the Six Eyes during the assassination of the Star Plasma Vessel.” Something whispered to him, its voice overlapping with static as he remembered another bandaged face whispering to him quietly. He could practically feel it looming against him, pale blue and rotten skin pulled tight over a pair of black fangs.
A bird talon gripped tightly onto his shoulder, digging into his flesh in a harsh gesture.
“… never reached… enlightenment. You did… instead. But then you left him… like you always do.”
Suguru felt a small amount of guilt worm its way into his chest again, settling like a weight as he awkwardly cleared his throat and shook the voice from his head. It practically rattled around in his skull as he did so, planted deep inside like a tumor.
“… thank you.” Suguru managed, glancing between Haibara and the strange version of Satoru. “Both of you…”
“Do you want to see everyone? There’s a couch in the living room, we can take you there! But I’m serious, I’m going to keep my eye on you. Food and rest, okay? I told Nanami the same thing.” Haibara responded before the other sorcerer could, leaning over until he was directly in Suguru’s line of sight. He flashed him a confident grin, eyes practically burning with enthusiasm. “If we can get you back on your feet, then we’re set! Gojo won’t stand a chance against another Gojo and you! I mean…” Haibara stiffened for a moment, fidgeting with his hands. “… I want to say that he’ll listen. But after everything he’s done, Geto… after what he did to you… that should have been the first red flag, you know? I’m so sorry…”
Suguru felt something constricting his throat, the dread sinking into him like a fog as it burned underneath his skin. He didn’t even know what to say, visibly shutting down as he nervously set his jaw.
“Let me get everything set up. Just hang tight!” Haibara was gone before Suguru could even process his whole statement, sprinting back down the hallway with far too much energy as the sound of his footsteps practically shook the whole apartment.
Suguru took a deep breath through his nose, feeling like his stomach was full of ants. His skin was crawling, entire body flushed and sore from his worsening fever as he leaned as carefully as possible against the bathtub behind him.
Haibara was wrong. He didn’t seem aware of the other version of himself, which was something Suguru was grateful for in a way. But surely he wasn’t a match for him…
The older Geto could have killed him several times. He had overwhelmed the younger counterpart, he had literally torn everything from him.
“… they’ve told me bits and pieces of what’s going on.” Satoru’s voice pulled Suguru out of his thoughts, all smooth and calculating as his face stayed pointed in a forward direction. There was scarring that ran down the visible portion of his lower jaw, no doubt framing his eyes and Suguru could only imagine how serious they were, but it certainly didn’t bode well. “You’re working with the big gorilla, I noticed. He smells worse than I remember…”
“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one to notice that.” Suguru said dismissively, though Satoru didn’t seem amused at all. The frown on his face only deepened, which made Suguru more anxious as well.
The older Satoru would have at least laughed, right? Even the crazed version would have found the comment amusing, Suguru was mostly certain.
“… it’s not like you. I almost didn’t believe them at first.” Satoru finished, still somber and skeptical as he took a couple steps forward. He kept one hand on the countertop of the sink, following it in an odd gesture that immediately made Suguru feel even more awful about the whole situation.
Did he really lose the Six Eyes technique? Surely that didn’t mean…
“Let me guess, I’m missing a serious superiority complex and a burning disdain towards basically everyone.” Suguru joked halfheartedly, starting to slowly back away with a hand braced on the edge of the porcelain bathtub. His amber eyes were narrowed, his throat immediately protesting from the sheer amount of effort that it took just to speak. “… I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
Satoru actually seemed to pause, a small smile finally spreading across his face as he scoffed and shook his head.
“This is so bizarre. I mean, really… you have it down pretty well, you even sound like him.”
“I wonder why.”
“… just stop, damn it. First Haibara, then Nanami, Yuji and Megumi… What is this exactly, huh? Some kind of trick or auditory technique? You’re a lot smaller, Suguru.”
“No… I don’t…” Suguru stopped himself, his jaw tightening instinctively as the words forcibly died on his tongue.
Considering how bulky the other version of him was, he knew that issue was glaringly obvious.
“I don’t know what to say.” Suguru admitted with a soft snarl, feeling a small amount of shame start to join every other negative emotion weighing on the back of his mind. “But I… I can assure you… none of this is meant to trick you.”
Satoru sighed loudly, hesitantly letting go of the counter as his face pointed in Suguru’s direction. He paused before taking a step towards him, seemingly taking a chance to navigate the room instinctively.
The scars on his face suddenly looked so much more like tears of blood, longer white hair creating a silhouette that immediately made Suguru’s blood turn to ice.
He was frozen in place, ears starting to ring as he backed away as far as possible. His torso flared with pain as he did so, but he ignored it.
Suguru’s breathing was fast and uneven, ears starting to ring as he once again tried to summon anything. Even having a weak cursed spirit around him would feel better than feeling completely exposed like he was.
Feeling powerless. Just like he did almost ten years ago.
Black cursed energy started to bleed from his eyes again, the weak lights in the apartment flickering and sputtering with electricity.
Suguru cursed under his breath, struggling to reign in his violent reaction as he realized how pointless it was. He closed his eyes, arms wrapped around his torso as he forced himself to even out his breathing.
He refused to withdraw himself into the rotten self-hatred and bitterness again, using every bit of resolve that he had left to hold his head up high.
Suguru’s expression hardened, his hand clutching at his chest as he felt his heart beat painfully against his sternum. It made his ribs sore, but it helped to ground him somewhat. The pain became something of an afterthought, anxiety slowly ebbing outwards into the back of his mind instead of overwhelming him completely.
Satoru hesitated before sitting down next to him, staying a few feet away and at a comfortable distance. He almost seemed to be pouting, holding his chin with one of his hands as he hummed in thought.
“Yeah, guess it would be hard for them to keep it up for this long.” The white haired sorcerer turned vaguely in Suguru’s direction, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth. “I guess it all adds up… even if I don’t really get it.” Satoru paused, fidgeting with one of the loose bandages around his wrist. “What happened to you anyway? Your friends… they haven’t been very eager to share anything. This is the first I’m hearing about a Gojo… or dealing with a Gojo… what did he do to you exactly?”
Suguru paused again, wiping the streaks of cursed energy from his face as he bit the inside of his mouth nervously. Despite everything, he forced himself to smile.
“It’s… complicated.” Suguru answered simply, dark amber eyes focusing on a crack in the floor tiles. He followed it to distract himself, already starting to turn unresponsive. He hoped that Satoru wouldn’t press the issue, praying to whoever would listen that he could avoid having that conversation again.
In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t that important anyway.
A dark and intrusive thought started to burn in the back of his mind, Suguru’s jaw clenching shut as he wondered if the Satoru next to him had killed him in whatever twisted scenario he was from as well.
Was that how all of this was doomed to end?
Surprisingly, the thought almost relaxed Suguru. It soothed over those aggressively unstable nerves that had been relentlessly buzzing inside of his chest like an open wound, the inevitable and predictable outcome one of the easier things for him to swallow.
Suguru could imagine it. How easily the Satoru from his reality could tear into him like paper, finally freeing himself of his weaker half.
Suguru wondered distantly if he would grieve for him, or if he’d laugh at him as he died. Would he insult the expression he was wearing? Would he laugh at him if he didn’t react at all?
The older Satoru had acted like killing him was a burden. Even if he didn’t say it outright, the regret almost seemed infused to his soul. The other Geto had exploited that, intentionally or not.
What would he do if that happened?
It would take longer, but surely he would get over it eventually… right? Afterall, Suguru doubted he could take his variant’s place. Thinking he was anything but a cheaper option was out of the question.
Suguru’s gaze became something distant and hollow, his hand curling around the prison realm defensively.
Was it so wrong for him to want to feel loved?
He used to feel that way.
Suguru wished it could have lasted longer. He wished he had confronted his emotions for Satoru earlier on, wished that he didn’t take their strength together for granted.
“… sorry.” Satoru said softly, making Suguru slowly turn himself towards him with a frown. The white haired sorcerer shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest with a wide smile stubbornly staying on his face. “That bad, huh?”
“Just… drop it. Please.” Suguru leaned on the edge of the bathtub again, using it to stand with a small grimace of pain. He bit back a noise of discomfort, ignoring the small amount of skin that tore from his stitches as his entire body protested the action immediately. “I’m sure Haibara can… tell you what you need to know. He was more aware of the plans anyway, it seems. I was… the last resort… and look where it got all of us.”
“… so that’s how it is.” Satoru listened to him carefully, a deep frown starting to turn the corners of his mouth downwards. His eyes shifted underneath the bandages, though he didn’t give any indication that he was actually conscious of it. “At least you still have your dramatic flair, I guess, but don’t you think you’re giving yourself too much credit?”
Suguru decided to ignore the other sorcerer, dragging himself across the bathroom tiles with an obvious limp. His torso was burning with pain, stomach practically full of knives as he forced himself to push through it.
When he reached the door, it immediately slammed shut.
Suguru froze, looking over his shoulder with a scowl as he straightened defensively.
“That was… childish. Do you mind?”
“… the only reason I stuck around was because I trusted you, Suguru. With the sorcerer killer… with that thing...” Satoru nodded in the direction of the prison realm, hesitantly standing on his feet again as well. He managed to pull himself up gracefully, brow pinching together underneath his bandages. “I guess it really was too much to ask for that ever to go both ways.”
Suguru felt like he was missing an important piece of the puzzle, some context that should have been obvious. His eyes darted around the room as he clenched his jaw, trying the door handle only to find it completely jammed shut.
The smaller sorcerer sighed loudly, his head thumping against the door as he leaned further forward.
Suguru remembered how shaken Satoru had been when he was sealed, imagining how betrayed he must have felt… he wondered if this damaged version of Satoru had an instance like that, his demeanor immediately softening as he slumped against the door with a frown.
Before he could respond, the door opened from the other end.
Suguru almost stumbled backwards because of it, managing to catch himself on the doorframe as he glanced up at a very flustered Haibara.
The younger sorcerer looked between Satoru and Suguru and blinked once, shrugging off their strange interaction and pulling Suguru back onto his feet with his signature wide smile.
“Here! I got you. Try not to move around too much, okay Geto? Take it easy on that wound of yours, otherwise it might open! And that… would be realllllllyyyyy bad!” Haibara called loudly, practically carrying Suguru out of the bathroom before he could process exactly what had happened. The younger of the two was moving incredibly fast as well, practically bolting down the hallway before Suguru could protest.
The rest of the apartment looked just as rundown as the bathroom did, with several holes in the floor and ceiling. There was purple blood splattered on the dark walls, seeping into the wood and making the entire place smell of rotten cursed energy.
“… are you okay?” Haibara asked as discreetly as possible in a harsh whisper, looking over his shoulder again with a frown. “I didn’t even think about leaving you alone with him, I’m sorry. That was a dumb move…”
“It’s… fine, he wasn’t trying to hurt me… Haibara.” Suguru sighed softly, trying to regain his bearings as he blinked a few dark spots from his vision.
“Well that’s good, but stress right now for you is a no go! Not an option! We need you to recover as quickly as possible, so that means keeping you well rested and safe!”
“… Haibara…” Suguru started in a reserved voice, a strong feeling of guilt starting to blossom in his chest again. It planted its roots deep, practically stabbing him with thorns.
The black haired sorcerer hissed slightly in pain when he was plopped unceremoniously on a stiff couch, cushions covered in what he assumed were freshly cleaned blankets and pillows. His legs dangled off the edge of it naturally, its design not all comfortable… but it was softer than that bathtub or the floor.
Suguru tried not to react too violently to the pain, the internal injuries immediately becoming more obvious as his stomach and his lungs seemed to take the blunt of the unintentionally rough action.
Surprisingly, Suguru managed to laugh.
His eyes only watered a little bit, knuckles turned white around the bag of ice that he was still holding and the prison realm.
“… thank you.” Suguru managed, watching as Haibara flashed him another comical grin.
“Of course! Just one second, okay? I’ll get something to wrap you up!” Haibara was already running off again, leaving Suguru alone in what must be the living room of the apartment. It was practically empty, littered with talismans on every inch of the grimy and cracked walls.
There were four bundles of blankets spread throughout the room, as well as a single coffee table with three legs and a dozen or so knives and weapons stabbed into the floor.
Suguru frowned at that, his brow furrowed in concern. They all looked expensive, presumably stolen or found.
That only meant one thing.
It seemed that Toji was improvising without the inventory curse, which Suguru rolled his eyes at almost instantly. It certainly wasn’t the safest choice… or the most practical.
Suguru adjusted himself so that he was sitting up on the arm of the couch, glancing around the room with a much more somber expression slowly settling on his face. He felt a little more stiff, the weight of their situation immediately making him sulk silently.
It reminded him of the first few nights in the old Star Religious Headquarters, back before Suguru’s group had to evacuate because of Miguel’s death.
He had Nanako and Mimiko with him, trying to settle into what was practically a tomb. He had lost so much in that building, to a group of people that didn’t even exist anymore.
Suguru had tried several other options before that. His parent’s supposed suicide had prevented him from returning home, and he was still young. He didn’t sleep for the first week or so during that time, ultimately deciding to pick up where the leaders of the religious cult had left off.
He managed to secure himself in the higher ranks without much issue in what was left of the small group, promising them new followers for their cooperation and compensation.
“Let me make one thing clear.” Suguru had announced, standing in the middle of a small stage as the remaining leaders of the group barely managed to fill the seats in the audience. Suguru had appeared to them in his ceremonial robes, deciding that he would play his part as effectively as possible. ”… this group will be under new management. You will not be allowed to make your own decisions anymore, not after what happened with Amanai. I will keep detailed records of your affairs… monitor every one of your actions and handle you personally if you step out of line.”
Sugru had communicated his urgency with a forced smile, his expression detached and believably cold. He had despised the people in front of him, and he didn’t bother to keep that hidden.
He hadn’t realized how crucial his actions were at that time. The temptation was still there, the roar of applause and the bitter memories of everything almost drawing Suguru down a path that he had never considered before.
Satoru had done it. He had killed so many at that point. He had literally emptied the religious group and their members, and Suguru knew there were more victims that Satoru hadn’t told him about directly.
Suguru remembered standing there silently, hands folded in front of him as he debated calling up one of the members in the back of the room. An older man who was practically rolling his eyes, the dry amusem*nt obvious in every corner of his expression.
Suguru wanted to completely crush him.
The sheer amount of anger and bottled emotion that he felt burned underneath his skin, the bitter taste of a recently devoured curse resting on the back of his tongue.
“You’re getting weaker.”
Suguru remembered Satoru’s voice then, his voice hissing out each insult with venom like a snake.
“Skinnier.”
He remembered bloody blue eyes, a hand wrapping firmly into his sticky black hair and cutting deep into his skull.
“Disgusting.”
Satoru was pressing him roughly into the training mat, half of his face a bloody and unrecognizable mess.
“Don’t pretend we’re on the same level anymore, do you f*cking hear me? You’re a joke.”
And Suguru paused, throwing the microphone over his shoulder with a deep frown. He remembered flashing the small crowd another wide smile, wiping at his cheek instinctively as if the blood from that memory was still caked on his skin.
“… on second thought, I don’t need any of you. I’ll gather followers on my own. Afterall, you managed it somehow.” Suguru remembered saying bitterly, the lights in the audience starting to flicker as a pool of black cursed energy spawned behind him on the stage. He was still smiling, pushing aside any of the malice that he had felt as the applause that he was imagining faded with the shocked faces of the people in front of him. “Now… get out before I change my mind.”
— Meanwhile —
“Geto!” Nanako was the first one to notice him, her eyes blown wide as she suddenly tackled the taller sorcerer with a rebounding tackle. She was already sobbing, arms wrapped firmly around Suguru’s neck as he managed to hold her up despite his injured shoulder.
He almost stumbled backwards, managing a winded laugh despite the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to break his composure.
Miguel was watching the entire interaction silently, Mimiko already sprinting from his side so that she could tackle Suguru as well. Both of the young teenagers were hanging off of him, refusing to let go.
They were in one of the old temples that Manami had repurposed as a new center of operations, a run down traditionally Japanese building that still didn’t have electricity. It was located further in Tokyo’s neighboring outskirts, sealed off with talismans and seals that kept the location obscure and hidden.
Manami had been eager to see him as well, insisting on redressing his wounds before he saw anyone else.
Suguru didn’t necessarily blame her. He was green around the gills, practically swaying on his feet with blood completely coating the right side of his body. The gashes in his arms and his neck were quite serious as well, which needed to be stitched shut carefully by hand.
Thankfully Manami had steady hands. Steadier than Satoru’s anyway.
Suguru was still in more pain than he cared to admit, wearing a simple white Yukata over his torn and bloody pants to somewhat hide the extent of his injuries. His hair was still damp, resting in a loose bun with his usual black bangs sticking out. It felt better to be clean, finally.
It made Suguru feel less like a maggot infested corpse, and somewhat like his usual self again.
“… girls. I’m so proud of both of you.” Suguru said softly, gently squeezing both of them as a wide smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth.
They both hadn’t changed, which was somewhat reassuring. Suguru noticed that they were a bit taller, with Nanako wearing much less of her usual makeup and with her blonde hair completely down. She didn’t have her nails painted like she usually did, and Suguru distantly realized that she was a little thinner than normal.
Mimiko had heavy bags underneath her gray eyes, her cursed doll tucked neatly underneath one of her arms. There were stitches and staples holding it together, its wear and tear exceedingly obvious.
Suguru made a mental note to make her another one, humming silently to himself as he forced aside his worry and concern so that he could let himself feel relieved by their presence.
“Nanako, distracting Satoru like that worked beautifully… and Mimiko, you’ve become stronger as well.” Suguru praised, sitting back down on the bench behind him so that he could hold both of them a little tighter. His brow creased slightly as he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, shoulders starting to tremble slightly. “I’ve missed both of you so much… let’s not plan on any more vacations anytime soon, alright?”
Suguru’s voice sounded forced in his own ears, managing a quiet laugh that was meant more to ease his own discomfort.
Catching up with the girls and Manami had been a pleasant change of pace. Going over their new plans and the different things that had happened during his “leave of absence” as Manami put it.
Suguru found himself slowly starting to relax, his expression far less forced as Nanako occasionally showed him pictures of her and Mimiko on her phone. Manami would bring up something about the war, about pushing his agenda from the shadows… and then Nanako would interrupt, practically cheering as she reported something that was completely off topic.
“And then we visited Kyoto and went to this really cute shop! See! It reminded us of you, since everything they sold there was… black and kind of goth. Just the vibe, you know? I totally cried for like two hours in the store!” Nanako randomly blurted, adding on to a story that Suguru tried to piece together in the back of his mind.
“Goth?” Suguru emphasized with a soft laugh, glancing down at the offered picture that accompanied the story with a small nod. “Oh, now that makes sense.”
It really didn’t, but he went along with it anyway.
“… anyway. We’ve been trying to put efforts into delaying responses to tragedies, stuff like that. If curses can naturally clear out non-sorcerers, we have been more than happy to let nature run its course.” Manami waited before redirecting the conversation, tapping her fingers on the edge of her computer.
Suguru was grateful that she looked well, all things considered. Taking charge in his absence gave her more room to set out her roots and plant her confidence. She looked more professional, wearing a casual business suit over her usual dress and heels. Her autumn colored hair was shorter, pulled off to one side and exposing a small ring of scars and dings on her left ear.
Her nails were pressed on, bright acrylic red that matched her shade of lipstick. Dark red eyes were locked on her screen, expression caught between disinterested and attentive.
“The string of incidents in Shibuya and Tokyo have provided more than enough casualties. It’s a complete and utter victory, Master Geto. You sure made an entrance…” Manami finished with a wide smile, closing her computer and leaning back in her chair with a confident expression. “You made all of us extremely worried… but there were rumors that you had returned. That’s what Nana and Mimi were investigating.”
“… we didn’t get very far.” Mimiko admitted almost sheepishly, looking in her sister’s direction with a frown.
Suguru knew exactly what she meant, though before he could reply he caught a glance at a broad frame stumbling into the room.
Larue looked oddly distressed, blonde hair completely wild and unkempt as he frowned down at a bite mark on his wrist.
Suguru immediately deflated like a balloon.
“I didn’t mean to do anything… Sugu-chan… I’m so sorry… he just…”
“Satoru gave you a hard time? I should have expected that, I should be the one to apologize.”
“I was just applying a balm… like you suggested. I didn’t expect his condition to be so severe-“
“Does he normally behave like a damn dog?” Miguel questioned with a sneer, helping Larue glance over his injury. “You’ll probably want to clean that with bleach. You might catch something.”
“He’s just acting like that because I had to pull him away from his little skirmish too soon, let me handle it.” Suguru sighed loudly, standing up with a frown. He started to brush himself off, ruffling Nanako and Mimiko’s hair when he passed them again. “Satoru’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth. Can you girls pick something to cheer him up?”
Both of the girls smiled at him, which he returned with an almost comical grin.
“Of course!” Nanako almost chirped, looking over at her sister and sticking out her tongue.
“… I saw something on the way here that we could try.” Mimiko managed sheepishly, hesitant to let go of Suguru’s arm. She held him as tightly as possible, frowning at the bloody bandages on his wrist. The ravens had torn long pieces of flesh from his arms, which would take time to heal… but fortunately Manami had tended to the wounds with more attention than Satoru had been able to.
Some of the bite marks from Satoru had scarred over on his knuckles as well, making his hand look like he had been mauled by a bear.
“That sounds great. I’m sure that will help cheer him up, thank you. Now… this Satoru is different from the one you met briefly last year.” Suguru explained carefully, letting Mimiko turn his hand over to look at more of the scabs and wounds. “He’s much less serious, and he has an old injury that might be affecting him mentally. We’ll need to be incredibly patient with him, do you understand? No matter what he says… or how angry he might seem, I need you two to remember that. Tell me if anything happens, or if he tries to hurt you. I doubt he will, but… he can’t always control himself.”
Suguru watched from the corner of his eye as Miguel shifted, his tall and bulky silhouette turning to glance down the hallway.
“Other than that, Satoru is a loyal friend. And incredibly strong. He just needs… a steady hand.” Suguru said the last part carefully, addressing everyone else in the room with a thin smile. “I’m sure he’ll warm up to everyone eventually. Thank you for your help, Larue. The fact that he allowed you even near him is a tremendous amount of progress.”
Suguru left the room with a small hum, following Miguel’s gaze without a single crack in his expression. He watched the darkened corridor expectantly, hardly even flinching when he heard a loud slam in one of the rooms that didn’t have any candlelight coming from underneath the door.
“… no offense Geto, but you’re as crazy as that guy if you think you can actually fix him.” The taller sorcerer muttered ominously, crossing his arms over his chest. Miguel looked at Suguru from underneath his sunglasses, his expression stiff and skeptical. “He behaves more like a curse. Doesn’t even fight like Gojo himself, feels all… weird.”
“I’m not planning to fix him.” Suguru corrected softly, folding his hands in the long sleeves of his Yukata as he kept that thin smile on his face. “I’ve always been more than willing to accept Satoru for what he is. I’m grateful for his company… and I can’t complain too much, being a curse in my own right.”
“… at least you’re not in denial anymore.” Miguel almost seemed to scoff, finally starting to break down his cold facade in an almost bitter tone.
Suguru couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he pretended to pout dramatically.
“So cold, Miguel… don’t tell me you’ve lost respect for me now. I think I’ve been more than humbled enough already, don’t you?”
“… I never lost anything for you. None of us did, you know? We would follow you anywhere… but being a curse might serve all of us better, especially since no one else is going to pull their punches this time.”
Suguru was actually speechless for a moment, holding tighter onto his forearms as he nervously set his jaw and chuckled quietly. He forced himself to start walking down the hallway with a nod, dark brown eyes starting to cast downwards.
He felt a spark of fondness in his chest, right between his ribs in a warm emotion that made him breathe a little easier. He waved Miguel off before too much of that set of nasty and vulnerable emotions could rear its head again, inwardly preparing himself to confront Satoru again in the first place.
Suguru paused in front of the door, knocking gently on the heavy surface as he tested it apprehensively.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. Or maybe it wasn’t that surprising in the first place…
Suguru hummed to himself and forced a wide smile on his face, ducking inside of the dark room and squinting his eyes at the pitch black surroundings.
It took him a while to adjust, but eventually he made out a figure that was huddled in the furthest corner.
Suguru had only left him alone to patch up his own injuries and to tend to the others, for an hour at the most. Larue had tried to apply some of the herbal remedies that Manami had recommended, since Suguru knew he was the most familiar with those kinds of things.
Supposedly, Satoru had bathed beforehand. Suguru tried not to push the matter too insistently, but it was an important step in fighting against his infections and injuries.
“… Satoru.” Suguru spoke to get his attention first, frowning at the wet puddles on the ground and the fact that Satoru’s long white hair was still damp and uncombed. It almost reached his shoulders, bangs splitting open on his forehead to reveal the black mass of veins on his left temple.
Dark blue eyes started glowing in Satoru’s sunken eyesockets, less brilliant and bright than Suguru was familiar with but still radiating with powerful cursed energy. They reminded Suguru of a bright night sky, surrounded by deep black scleras that were scarred over with damaged nerves.
Satoru wasn’t even dressed completely, wearing a white Yukata similar to Suguru’s and a loose fitting pair of gray sweatpants.
“How are you feeling?” Suguru asked carefully, sitting down in front of the taller sorcerer with a small sigh.
“… I was gonna win. But you stopped me, twice. First with the old geezer… and then with that four armed monster.” Satoru was practically hissing at him like a snake, clutching onto his arms as he hugged his knees closer to his chest. “You don’t care about me. You… you don’t…”
Satoru started breathing heavily, his voice cracking as he punched the wall behind him so hard that the wood splintered and cracked all the way to the ceiling.
“… I stopped you because it wasn’t necessary for you to push yourself in either scenario, Satoru. We had a plan in place for… the other one of you, and we only needed to secure that weapon from that… curse from before. I’m a little too wise now to take unnecessary risks, and you were exhausted… you still are.” Suguru tried to reach out to Satoru and failed, surprised to find his technique summoned. “Disengage your technique, Satoru. We need to rub that ointment into your skin, I’ll help you.”
Satoru stared at him, the scarred corners of his mouth pulling into a feral grin as he snickered to himself darkly and shook his head. His brow had creased together, eyes wild with anxiety despite himself as he shoved his face into his hands and seethed with what seemed to be frustration and shame.
Suguru took a deep breath through his nose, holding his hands in his lap as he waited patiently.
There was a long pause of silence between them, which only seemed to make the white haired sorcerer more anxious. His eyes had dilated significantly, practically all black as his fingers curled into the splintered pieces of wood around him. Satoru’s skin was pale and clammy, black veins ever present and festering around his joints.
The arm that his older variant had pulled off was still skewered at an angle, tendons exposed from his elbow downwards in marbled pieces of black and red flesh.
Keeping his limitless technique active was spending unnecessary energy, making the fatigue all the more obvious and drawing important resources from his ability to regenerate with the reverse cursed technique.
“Turn it off, Satoru.” Suguru reminded the other sorcerer urgently, slowly moving a little closer to him. His voice had softened significantly, tone firm and reassuring in an attempt to encourage Satoru to stabilize. “You’re not a weapon. I wouldn’t dream of treating you like that, especially not when you’re this vulnerable. You need rest… and you might need some help.”
“I’m not vulnerable… and I don’t need anything.” Satoru snarled defensively, his technique fraying at the edges as he tried to force himself to sit back up. “Why are we here anyway? All of these people or whatever are boring as hell. They’re all-“
“They’re not the problem, Satoru.”
“I could kill all of them.”
“Yes, you could. But where would that get you? Remember our deal. You play nice with other sorcerers or those I deem useful, and I won’t abandon you. I intend to keep good on my part of that promise, that won’t change.” Suguru reached out to Satoru again and was surprised when he could actually touch him, humming in appreciation as he gently opened up his posture a little more.
He moved Satoru’s long and skinny legs onto either side of his thighs, staying between them so that he could carefully remove his hands from his face.
“I owe you my life afterall, don’t I? It’s almost poetic in a way… Satoru.” Suguru leaned closer to the other sorcerer’s face, gently rubbing the poorly applied ointment into the scarred corners of his mouth with his thumbs. He worked on applying it to the black mask of veins around his eyes as well, slowly brushing over the raw skin with as much care as possible. “When did I ever imply that I despise you? That hurts, you know… I thought that I’ve been rather open about my feelings.” Suguru said softly, warming Satoru up to his touch before he worked on applying some of the ointment to the most intense scarring on his forehead. The other sorcerer jolted, practically writhing in pain as Suguru coaxed him through it. “It’s about our friend isn’t it? The little curse eater that couldn’t even look at you before… Did watching my conversation with the other Satoru make you jealous? Did it make you feel a little lonely?”
Suguru decided to confront the conflict as bluntly as possible, gentle actions contradicting his accusations as he cupped Satoru’s face with surprisingly steady hands. The dark haired sorcerer was smiling despite himself, his expression playful and bitter at the same time.
He really despised the younger version of himself that Satoru had traveled reality’s with, internally cringing at the mere mention of him.
“What?!” Satoru almost looked mortified at Suguru’s discovery, eyes impossibly wide for a split second as he growled awkwardly in his throat and twisted out of Suguru’s grasp. “You don’t know what you’re f*cking talking about! Why would I care-“
“You’re wasting your time with that, you know… I can spoil one thing about this for you.” Suguru released Satoru when he pulled away, tone almost turning somber as he leaned in closer and hesitantly put his hands on the taller sorcerer’s shoulders. His voice was quiet, words almost catching in his throat as he swallowed down the resistance that he had put up for literal years. It felt like he was admitting a dangerous secret or confessing a crime, his eyes starting to close. “… you could kill him, and he still wouldn’t hold it against you. That’s how much he loves you, Satoru. I know that personally.”
Satoru went rigid before he finally relaxed, head tilted off to the side as his breathing started to pick up again. He made a strangled and sad sound in the back of his throat, trying and failing to shake his head.
“Shut up…”
Suguru just hummed, hands starting to slide downwards so that he could rub soothing circles over Satoru’s heaving sides. He couldn’t help but press his nose into the side of the other sorcerer’s pale neck, feeling his pulse hammer distinctively in his throat.
“You regret too much. The mask you wear is a convincing one, but I wore the same one for a while. You don’t need to wear it around me, Satoru.” Suguru murmured against Satoru’s skin, his long bangs brushing against the sorcerer’s ear as he nuzzled into him affectionately. “You’re becoming more conscious… more self aware. That’s a scary thing, isn’t it? But you’re not alone. I’m experiencing something similar, if you can believe it. Though I doubt it’s to your extent. Oh! That reminds me.”
Suguru perked up slightly, pulling a little further away from Satoru so that he could examine the injuries on his forearm to keep his hands busy. He was still smiling when his dark eyes flickered up to the white haired sorcerer’s face, loosely concentrating on rubbing some of the ointment into the thick black veins underneath Satoru’s knuckles.
“Satoru… I wanted to ask formally. Why did you bring me back in the first place? You said it was because of a parasite… but what if you allowed that creature a chance to escape as well because of it? That doesn’t seem like something that a solitary creature purely obsessed with bloodlust would be interested in doing, especially with the risk involved.”
“… it just pissed me off, that’s all.” Satoru sneered protectively, a forced grin starting to spread across his face. The taller sorcerer’s posture had stiffened, eyes tracing the horizontal scar that was still running across Suguru’s forehead. He seemed to hesitate, biting his own rotten tongue when Suguru started to wrap his arm in a fresh roll of bandages. “You… would’ve done the same for me, right Suguru?”
“Without question.” Suguru answered immediately, pausing what he was doing when he felt one of Satoru’s large hands brush against his injured shoulder. He was already bleeding through the gauze there, which Satoru was able to notice when he tugged the Yukata out of the way.
Satoru visibly straightened, reaching for a bottle of ointment behind him wordlessly as he kept his eyes trained on Suguru the entire time.
Long and blackened fingers began to lightly apply the medicinal treatment underneath Suguru’s bandages, still a little rough but clearly much more reserved than they could have been. The restraint was visible on every muscle in Satoru’s face, which kept twitching in concentration.
It was like he was fighting against possession, chewing a small hole in his lower lip as he tried not to inhale the smell of blood.
Suguru noticed, leaning into Satoru’s touch with a small hum. It hurt less than he thought it would, allowing him to concentrate more on how Satoru’s hand felt against his skin. He decided to indulge himself in it, hesitantly resting his head on Satoru’s narrow shoulder.
“… I’ve been wanting to ask something too. Don’t f*cking laugh.” Satoru sighed loudly, palming at Suguru’s chest with enough pressure to make him scoff sharply.
“I’ll try.” Suguru practically purred, tone teasing and light as he shrugged off the rest of the Yukata to give Satoru some more space. He looked up at the white haired sorcerer through his eyelashes, fox-like eyes hooded mischievously.
Satoru’s own eyes widened in response, his pale skin starting to flush a dark pink as he slumped his head against the wall in an attempt to hide himself. The grin on his face had twisted, something caught between a giggle and a wheeze escaping from his chest.
“Damn it… it can wait a little longer I guess…” The taller sorcerer muttered to himself, both of his hands hesitantly going upwards to rest on Suguru’s shoulders.
When the dark haired sorcerer carefully straightened his face with a hand on his jaw, Satoru surprisingly didn’t fight it. He just swallowed nervously, long legs locking around Suguru’s waist in a more secure hold.
He didn’t fight against it either when Suguru began to gently rake his nails down Satoru’s sides, brushing against the veins there in a specific pattern that made Satoru’s entire body shudder in response.
It was meant as a teasing gesture, which Satoru immediately capitalized on by resting his forehead against the top of Suguru’s skull. He nudged against the scar there halfheartedly, letting the other sorcerer press him a little further against the wall.
Suguru kissed him without thinking about it, adjusting the hold on his chin so that he could cup Satoru’s entire lower jaw. He shuddered at the bitter taste of his mouth, the slight taste of iron and something so rotten that it should have disgusted him. Instead it only seemed to surge him onwards, making Suguru practically moan as he tilted Satoru’s head at an angle and swallowed around his tongue.
Satoru made a choked noise, tangling his hands in Suguru’s hair as he pulled himself back up with his arms still wrapped around his shoulders. He used their difference in height to his advantage, practically straddling Suguru’s waist as he perched in the other sorcerer’s lap.
Suguru’s hair had come undone, which seemed to be Satoru’s doing. He was threading his fingers through it, letting Suguru guide him through the kiss with a certain eagerness of his own.
When Suguru purposefully bit his own tongue and started filling Satoru’s mouth with blood, the white haired sorcerer started shaking. His brow had furrowed, eyes squeezing tightly shut as he swallowed any of the available blood like an addict.
Suguru smiled against his mouth, hands reaching underneath Satoru’s white Yukata so that he could pull him closer. Feel a little more of him, follow every one of those dark desires that wanted to devour the other sorcerer whole.
If he did, maybe he wouldn’t lose him again.
— Meanwhile —
Okami walked down the hallway with his head bowed, trying not to draw attention to himself. A few older men glanced in his direction and scoffed, but he ignored them.
The Zen’in compound was practically destroyed, but the innermost part of it was still standing. That meant that the more prominent heads of the family were all gathered in one place, overcrowding servant quarters and forcing multiple of the lesser members of the family out of their homes.
Okami was lucky enough to keep his family estate mostly to himself, volunteering the rest of the space for the lower members of the Zen’in clan to temporarily use. The building was older and poorly renovated anyway, since it spent several years staying completely empty. The Zen’in elites weren’t interested in using it, so they allowed it.
But they seemed to find Okami’s actions hilarious, snickering and laughing at him whenever he passed them by.
Okami knew all of them well, unfortunately. He was familiar with their inappropriate behavior and jeering remarks, but it only seemed to somehow become worse over the past few days.
It made Okami want to pull his hair out.
Listening to the older perverts wasn’t entirely a wasted cause, however, since it kept Okami updated on the current situation inside of the Zen’in clan and out of the compound. Since there were so many of the elites around, they liked to gossip and spread rumors.
Okami gathered information much easier than he had in the past, keeping more of his Shikigami around to pick up on their conversations.
Supposedly, there was someone that they were keeping in the pit. A girl that was younger than him from Tokyo Jujutsu High. One of his distant cousins, who had attacked the clan head directly during the chaos of Tokao’s initial manifestation.
Maki Zen’in.
Okami wasn’t sure what the “pit” was, but he didn’t give up on finding more information about that regard. He also kept tabs on Tokao’s location, through classified clan meetings that normally would have been completely inaccessible to him.
Okami would have gone out to track the powerful curse down himself, but there was a reason why he was staying locked securely in the compound for the time being.
Kimori was in critical condition, and the Gojo clan wouldn’t take him to treat him. Since he wasn’t licensed as an official sorcerer, the staff at Tokyo High couldn’t help him either.
Okami had taken almost an hour to dig the stubborn sorcerer out of the tunnel that he had collapsed on top of himself, only able to find his body in the first place because of how severe he had been bleeding out.
Without any outside help or a healing technique, Kimori’s chances of survival were incredibly low. Fortunately, one of the older members of one of the families that Okami was housing happened to have medical supplies and a fair share of expertise, but he had been told not to expect too much.
Okami wasn’t sure why, but the amount of anxiety that he felt because of the whole situation was making him more on edge than normal. It wasn’t like he thought about Kimori too much during their time apart. He wasn’t worried about his survival then, but maybe that was because he assumed he was holed up in one of the Gojo estates somewhere, living out a life of luxury like the rest of his clan.
Apparently that wasn’t the case.
He really should have known that Kimori was too stubborn for that.
“So, Lord Naoya is planning on tracking down that Itadori brat on top of everything he’s already been through? Talk about guts.” One of the older men snickered as Okami walked by, wearing an expensive white robe and a pair of wooden sandals. His hair was dark gray, face wrinkled and distinctly squared. He had dull green eyes, as well as a scar on the folds of his neck.
“Okkotsu is also working on finding the boy, so I can assume he took the risk confidently. After what happened, he can’t afford losing face. Being beaten by some wretch…” Another man snarled, his features somehow uglier. He didn’t have eyebrows, his hands near skeletal as they held a wooden pipe up to his mouth. “There’s far too much going on right now to sit above it all. Naobito is chasing rumors that are equally as concerning, you know. Did you hear about that?”
The older man with the scar shook his head, expression pulled tight as he waited for his friend to elaborate. Okami listened to their conversation discreetly as possible, walking a little slower as he tried to act like he wasn’t paying attention.
“Remember that bastard Toji? Naobito’s older brother’s youngest? One of the students from Tokyo came forward and confessed to seeing him, someone named Kugisaki. They were debating execution for her, since she was in the same class with that Itadori and supposedly aided his escape. Stupid girl was wise to try and save her own skin. As soon as she mentioned that disgusting rat, they completely forgot about her connection to Itadori.”
“… I can imagine. With Gojo Satoru being gone for so long, it seems like the Elders are making more moves. Have they declared him dead yet? Those Gojo bastards must be pulling strings from somewhere to keep everyone’s mouth shut.”
“Some attempt to keep order, I imagine. Where did that stand in of theirs come from? That’s my question.”
“The young one with the piercings? The Elders have him on a binding vow, don’t they?”
“To keep fire from Okkotsu and that principal at Tokyo, yes.”
Okami watched as the two older men finally walked down the opposite end of the hallway, continuing their conversation as they left. Whether they noticed Okami or not was unclear, but the Shikigami user let them leave without protest.
Okami frowned, making his way towards his own estate without pausing again. He tugged on the corners of his own robes, pushing the window of them closed as he crossed his arms across his chest. He was wearing more layers than usual, dark and curly hair pulled up and off of his neck in a wild ponytail.
There were bags underneath his tattooed eyes, his face more sunken in than usual from the stress and his own poor sleep schedule. Kimori demanded around the clock attention and monitorization, which Okami naturally started doing since he couldn’t sleep much in the first place.
How long would it take Kimori to stabilize anyway? The bastard certainly was taking his time.
Okami walked across the courtyard to his estate groggily, trying to process all of the new information that he had learned with a frown. Everyone in the Zen’in clan had a small knowledge on who Toji was, some kind of defect who turned away from the clan and got himself killed. He was a sorcerer killer, someone whose character was rarely ever spoken in high places.
Okami was raised to absolutely despise him, especially for the humiliation that he caused his family in particular. He fathered the Ten Shadows, which made everything that Okami’s ancestors had done obsolete and pointless. Tracking generations… all of it had amounted to nothing.
But there was no way that he could still be alive, the Zen’in had confiscated his corpse over a decade ago.
The fact that the higher ups had a Gojo under their control didn’t bode well either. If Kimori was awake, then Okami would have demanded to know who it was exactly. He would just have to wait to ask when the bastard really did finally decide to get off his ass.
Okami sighed in frustration, rubbing at his temples with a scowl.
He was getting a headache, sliding the old wooden door in front of him open with an unsteady hand.
The estate was completely quiet.
Okami was grateful for that, gently closing the door behind him and glancing down at the wooden floors with a small sigh. The estate was traditionally Japanese, hallway lined with paper doors that were painted in some of his family’s most famous and unique signature Shikigami.
There were small clusters of bodies huddled in each of the rooms, the sound of an infant being soothed and a couple of kids whispering to one another under their breaths.
Okami ignored that, kicking off his sandals at the door and walking down the narrow hallway with a growing sense of calm. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind the white noise. The rooms that the families were resting in were usually empty, even when Okami had been younger.
He reflected on that silently, remembering distinctly what floorboards made the most noise and what doors tended to jam noisily. His parents had preferred to keep the house silent, completely losing their temper whenever they were reminded of the fact that Okami and his older sister had existed at all.
Okami ignored that pressing train of thought, mouth pulled into a thin line as he finally reached the room in the back of the hall.
He slid the door open quietly, eyes instinctively flickering down to the floor as he silently walked towards the futon in the middle of the room. Sunlight was filtering through the paper windows, making the tall figure laying down in front of him look like he was practically glowing.
Okami glanced at Kimori and hesitantly kneeled next to him, eyes wide and unsure as he carefully fixed the thick blankets draping over him. He straightened them out, being careful of Kimori’s broken ribs and arms.
All of his bones had suffered in some way, but his torso seemed to receive the most abuse. The blankets were supposed to help keep him steady so that he could heal, but Kimori seemed to move around a lot, even when he was unconscious.
The stab wound in his side was stitched shut and the bandages around his stomach were changed constantly. Thankfully his organs were still in one piece, but the ragged and torn skin was always a sobering sight to see.
Kimori was hiding so many damn scars underneath that stupid mask of his and his coat. Okami knew that he had a few of them on his face, but that was nothing compared to the thick volleys of scars on his chest and his back. Looking at them still made Okami feel like he had been kicked in the gut, their purple and pink color completely contrasting with Kimori’s otherwise white skin.
His body was covered in bruises and fresh wounds, all of which needed fresh bandages constantly. Kimori’s left arm was in a cast, and his nose was still a little crooked.
Kimori’s hair was splayed around him like a white halo, long bangs draping over his eyes and framing the sharp edges of his face. That long braid of dark hair that he had intertwined with his own had been completely cut off, which Okami was somewhat grateful for.
Kimori’s eyes were closed, face completely relaxed and pointed in Okami’s direction. He almost looked peaceful, with the only indication he was still alive being the steady rise and fall of his chest.
The prosthetic gold claws had to be removed, of course, which only left the stumps of Kimori’s knuckles visible. His left hand was in the cast, but Okami found himself staring at his available one with a frown.
It had shifted, gripping the edge of the futon as best as it could.
Okami hesitantly reached out to stop it, not wanting Kimori’s arm to dislocate again or for something to happen to injure him further. That was what Okami was trying to do, coincidentally wrapping his fingers around Kimori’s palm with a scowl.
He wasn’t holding his hand, but then the knuckles tightened around him, securely holding his hand in place.
Okami sputtered, practically hissing like a snake as the small and seemingly subconscious gesture made his face immediately burn. He didn’t pull away from it though, adjusting himself so that he was sitting on the ground next to Kimori awkwardly.
He looked down at their hands and swallowed nervously, tightening his hold on Kimori’s hand with a worried frown.
“… you dumbass.” Okami scolded, though there was much less of a bite to his voice. His mouth twitched, shoulders tensing anxiously as he scooted even closer and held his hand more firmly. “Why… Why did you do that, you bastard? You think you’re so much better than me, huh? Idiot… I could’ve helped. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have let you do that stupid sh*t.”
