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damn-stark · 4 months

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Chapter 41 Thus with a kiss I die

Chapter 41 of Sugar

A/N- No surprises by Radiohead, you won’t thank me later but it fits this chapter!!!!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST!!!, death, flashback, SPOILERS!!!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- Chapter 259

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*SOMETIME AGO*

“Blood manipulation training day 1,” you talk to the camera and back up to show Itadori, Kamo, and Choso training, but first you pamper yourself and smile at the camera before stepping away to let the others get in view.

“What are you doing?” Kamo asks right as he spots the camera across the mat.

The three of you look at him and you glance at the camera as if it isn’t obvious before looking back at him and explaining. “Recording today's training? It’s good to record some part of it and go back to see what you did wrong. Aoi and I would do that when Yuki trained us. It’s,” you snort and shake your head. “It’s a pretty good idea. We have a lot of funny reels—”

“Fine.”

You pout at the boy's interruption and sit down on one of the benches to watch the blood manipulators at work.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have come but Choso insisted because he wanted to show you how he taught his brother.

“Hm…the trick to convergence,” Choso muses as he rubs his chin in a very smug manner.

“It looks like I’ll be doing switch training with Okkotsu, and Kusakabe,” Itadori says. “So I’ll need to work on blood manipulation the hard way. And we only have one month. Gimme every piece of advice ya got!”

“Through blood and tears,” you interject quietly as you think of a funny pun, and end up catching the attention of all three men.

“Oh,” Yuji feigns a laugh, whilst Kamo looks at you unamused, and Choso rubs his chin and squints at you.

“You’ll just need to learn through blood and tears Itadori,” you repeat louder and a lot more smug because you could think of something you deem funny.

“Literally,” he feigns another laugh and this time Choso finally snorts and chuckles, making you smile wider.

“Good one,” he points at you. “I like that one.”

You shrug smugly and cross one leg over there. “Now why don’t you show me what you got baby.”

Choso’s cheeks grow a shade of pink but he doesn’t falter this time, not in front of his brother.

“Well, convergence,” he turns and swings his arm. “It’s kinda like this…” he pauses and swings to the other side. “Then like that…then a lil’…”

Oh, what a sweet man. As good of a brother as he is, he doesn't really know how to teach does he?

“Seriously dude?!” Itadori remarks.

Then again maybe it’s the student as well.

“Cho!” You call him out, and he peers back to listen. “Why don’t you show him that blood armor thing?!” You suggest so he could take off his vest and his shirt.

“Well,” he finally tells you smugly without breaking into timidness. “Maybe…”

“He’s not ready,” Kamo cuts him off and faces Itadori. “Think of bathing in hot water. You can feel the heat encompassing your entire body. In that same way, you can expand your blood vessels, creating a vague outline of your body. That’s the basic foundation of blood manipulation. ”

Hm simple enough. A lot more helpful than Choso's way of teaching.

“Like when you piss yourself?” Itadori surprises you by blurting, which shouldn't be surprising, he has this goofy sense of humor, but still, ew.

“Uh, whatever works,” Kamo mutters with the same disgust you feel.

“Convergence is a technique that compresses your blood,” Kamo continues sharing with Itadori. “Meaning we can use a sponge or paper- anything that can be crumpled in your hand easily—To help with imagining it’s a similar feeling, cans or clay work too.” He motions with his hand, making Itafori nod in comprehension before turning to face his older brother.

“Choso,” he says. “This is what it means to teach someone.”

You look over at your boyfriend and can’t help but smile and grin even brighter when he starts to point at himself. “Supernova! Ask me about Supernova!”

“For starters,” Kamo counters quite respectfully. “We don’t have time to make blood manipulation a potent weapon for Itadori. It’ll be better for him to get the basics of stitching and stopping blood down.”

“Hmph,” Choso huffs in defeat and with a hanging pout that makes you walk over behind him to probe.

“I would like to know about Supernova.”

Choso slumps down and mutters in defeat. “You can’t even use blood manipulation.”

You push away from him and sit back down with the same pout he just used when he got rejected for teaching.

So much for tagging along!

Nevertheless amidst your growing boredom as you listen to Kamo, your phone rings, and when you check, it’s none other than your business partner, Kong.

“Oh, well what a welcoming surprise,” you greet the man smoothly. “Kong. Honey.”

At the sound of the man’s name Choso slowly sits up straight after being brushed aside to be replaced by the better teacher.

“Geto,” Kong greets quite irritatedly.

You sigh and sit back. “Can we make this quick, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Fine, get this man to stop following me. I gave you everything you needed. You found Geto, leave me alone,” he says rather brashly, which is not to your liking.

“Oh? Well fine,” you feign reassurance but then lean forward and actually click your tongue and inhale deeply as you prepare to bring something up. “But lately there’s been this…well, how can I put this…rat running around in my business…and you know if you don’t kill them they just fester and then it’s hard getting rid of them. What should I do?” You ask casually and glance at your nails.

Kong doesn’t miss what you’re insinuating with that clever choice of words so he sighs deeply and quickly argues. “I gave you everything you have. It’s all mine.”

You sit up and laugh, genuinely laugh, making his breath falter.

“You believe that?” You ask quietly in a voice that makes chills run down Choso’s spine.

“I know it,” Kamo claims confidently.

You feign a smile and remark sweetly. “Your business would’ve been nothing without me. I made it what it is, it’s mine, but because you did lend me a hand in starting it, I’ll give you a second chance. Or else I’ll call the exterminator, it’s not impossible to get rid of rats. Good day, Kong.”

You end the call and put your phone away before sitting up and swinging one leg over the other to continue watching the teaching going on in front of you.

“You know…” Choso trails on. “I could show you piercing blood. It’s pretty simple.”

You blink and look over at him, feeling your whole body ease at the mere sight of those rich brown eyes and that sweet smile. And after seeing him get turned down for teaching after being so excited and talking your ear off about all the things he’d teach Yuji, how can you turn him down?

“All right,” you give in and jump to your feet.

Choso follows you up and slips behind you to slip his hands under your elbows and push your arms out, making you smirk mischievously and bat your lashes before peering over at him.

Choso sees that smirk playing on your lips and swallows thickly before looking at your hands. “Focus,” he scolds you softly since he’s fighting the temptation of your soft lips calling his own to you.

“Okay then tell me.”

“Well,” He goes on and slithers his hands down your arms to grasp the back of your hands and push them together.

“It usually, you know, runs up to my fingers and I shoot. And that happens by bringing up all the blood to my hands and shooting at my target,” he says with growing excitement that makes you genuinely smile and just watch how his pupils glimmer. “I usually feel the heat and a…blood orb collects in between my palms before I shoot it. Which is similar to fire, hm?”

You summon fire to your palms, feeling the heat of the flames run through your veins before they glow under your fingertips. You don’t intend to shoot so you can keep the fire inside so as to not make a mess and disrupt the other learning opportunity happening across from you, but you give Choso your answer.

“Hm,” you hum in agreement and turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, feeling his burning desire under his inventive gaze, and his hot passion on your hips as he gently squeezes them.

“Your stance matters,” he speaks quietly but in an enticing way. “Your footing on the ground must be strong.” He says and glances at your lips, making you feel his blood rushing down to his member between his legs since he presses himself close to your back.

“What else?” You purr and bat your lashes, making him part his lips and breathe in but not mutter anything, you leave him at a loss for words over such simple gestures.

But he also burns you up with his intoxicating smell engulfing your sense of smell, those soft pink lips grazing the side of your ear, his hot breath unfurling over your cheekbone, and that sexy look in those beautiful rich eyes.

He’s such a distraction as he stands so close and that’s a mistake because before you know it, fire shoots out of your hands pointed ahead. When you feel it slip out of your fingers it’s already flying right in between Kamo and Itadori, and hitting the wall, completely missing them by mere inches.

“Oh,” you gasp and cover your mouth.

Choso steps back and looks at the burning hole you made and then looks at the shocked faces of his brother and very distant relative.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say apologetically as you clutch onto your chest. “I’m…” you trail off and glance over at Choso, but that’s a grave mistake because the moment you do, you both watch each other with guilt for a second, but then you both look over at the black hole emitting smoke from the aftermath and start laughing.

Kamo and Itadori don’t find it funny because they were close to getting burnt, and Choso does feel sorry for almost being the cause of hurting his little brother, but you both can’t help but just laugh with each other. It’s like you’re enticed by each other, and hearing each other laugh only feeds into your humor.

——

*NOW*

Amidst the scorching heat that was quick to force itself through your secret art technique that was slowly failing at keeping you and Yuji safe from Sukuna’s divine flames, was suddenly a life-saving coolness that came with a pitch darkness.

Perhaps it’s your end, this was death coming back to collect what escaped its grasp before.

You don’t want to die. Not yet. Not in front of Choso, not when Satori is waiting for you to go and pick her up to take her home. You don’t want to die here either…

However, before you can convince yourself you’re dead, through the deafening darkness is Choso. He’s very close to you, and he was the one who saved you and Yuji from those deadly flames.

You had heard him calling out to you before, but this wildfire was so overwhelming that your mind quickly drifted your attention away. But now he’s here, he’s your savior and you can't help but smile with relief until your heart sinks to your stomach and this sudden bone-chilling fear hits you.

Something doesn’t feel right. Something doesn’t look right about him keeping up the shield made of blood, and rather than him just being covered in soot and slashes like Yuji and you, Choso seems to be getting slowly consumed by fire. And you would know, you have that technique, you know how it kills a person and the pungent smell of burning flesh.

But this can’t be what you see or smell, not from him.

“Choso,” your voice shakes while you still want to smile as you cling onto hope.

Said man meets your gaze and a charming smile decorates his features. He then glances at his brother and his smile only turns more fond as he speaks his name and yours with a gentle tenderness.

“Choso?!” Yuji exclaims as he too starts to realize what you do but what you keep wanting to refuse.

“What are you doing?!” Yuji proceeds to yell.

You study your husband's face and that fire seems to be consuming more of him right in front of you, and you can’t even stop it.

“You can’t do this!” Yuji remarks.

That smile doesn’t falter, his eyes drift down but that charming smile stays on his face. “I’m sorry,” he finally explains what’s going on. “I was useless during training. Your big brother tends to do things instinctively.”

Why can’t he stop?

Why don’t the flames stop?

Why?

“Cho—” Yuji cuts himself off mid-shout and draws in a shaky breath before his face falls and averts his gaze. “Instinctively, huh? You really hit the nail on the head…” he trails off and shares a moment of silence with his brother that makes you think that he needs to stop or he’ll die. The fire keeps eating at him. It keeps taking more of him away from you.

“Choso,” your whisper trembles, and the charming man slowly looks over at you. This time that smile falters.

“What are you doing?” You ask the same thing Yuji asked not long ago in hopes the answer would change and the outcome would be a hopeful one.

“My love,” he whispers softly and with so much fondness. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and step forward. “You promised,” you throw at him with a burst of anger. “You swore!”

He nods without shame and swallows back a lump of emotions he didn’t want you or his brother to see. “I did, I meant to keep that promise, I really did, but what husband, what brother, and what father would I be if I let you all die when I can do something to stop it?”

“We could find a way,” you argue desperately. “I can—”

“No, I saw it,” he cuts you off confidently. “You were going to collapse and I was going to have to watch you die all over again. I don’t want to live just to see that again, you deserve a happy life. I wish—”

“No!” You bellow mid-sentence and want to lunge forward to grab his face as if that would stop the inevitable, but the space is so small that there's no room to move any further, leaving him just out of arm's reach.

“Please, no,” your anger falters and your agony seeps through. “Please…Choso. Tell me what you want to say after. Please,” you break into a shaky sob.

His smile trembles and his eyes cloud with tears, but instead of saying all the beautiful things he wants to recite to you from one moment to another your surroundings go from grim and then to a serene view of vivid green hills, and a timid sun letting the night sky shine.

“Tsukumo threatened to pop my head off my body if I ever hurt you,” Choso mentions casually. “I didn’t believe she could do it until I saw her technique at work.”

You blink and keep your eyes fixated on the beautiful scene conjured up by nothing but the last remnants of his will.

“She was really protective of you,” he mumbles as he starts to notice your aggravation. “But that’s how big sisters are…” he trails off and he reaches over to grab your hand but you pull it away and hug your knees to your chest as you keep watching the gentle breeze move the sea of grass.

“I’ve,” you stammer and clear your throat to let your anger sound clear. “I've lost so many people I have loved, and maybe it’s my fault. I’ve gotten attached to them in this cruel world, but…I thought you wouldn’t let me down. You out of everyone. So w-why?” You can’t help but cry before you snap your head to the side to pierce your watery glare into him. “W-why are you leaving me?”

Choso sees how the last glimmers of the sun capture your eyes and his breath catches in his throat while that tough act falls because the truth is you were one of the few people he could be completely vulnerable with. You could see him sob and he wouldn’t feel like he was looking weak, he didn’t feel like he was letting someone down by crying in front of them. He feels comforted.

“I don't want to,” he finally admits with every word pampered with emotion. “I wanted to live a long life with you and our family. I want to be a father, I want to be by your side, but I’ve lost you once, and I’ve let Yuji down once, I can’t do it again. I can’t…so please don’t fight me on this, my love, please just let me look at you one more time. That way when I look into your eyes all I’ll see is my sun…my moon…my stars…my most beloved, my love, you.”

You can’t. You can’t accept this fate, you can’t pretend to be okay just to make him feel better about his sacrifice. No matter how sweet his words are, you don’t want them to be the last thing you hear, you don’t want this to be your final moments together.

You can’t be selfless. Your heart shattering and turning to nothing but dust terrorizes you. Your chest collapses within itself, and the beauty of the world vanishes to nothing, so you can’t smile.

You sit across from him like you would do when you would watch the city in your sleepless nights when you were trapped in that apartment for nine days. You hold his gaze with your eyes pampered with tears so you can plead and beg speechlessly and desperately like your life depended on it. Because it does, he’s the light that had once vanished in your life, he’s your hope and a part of your soul. How can you not fight for his life?

“Please don’t do this to me,” you cry, but not in that made-up world, you tell his withering body that had little to nothing left of the man you love because of that scorching fire that keeps consuming him.

“I love you,” he redirects endearingly and with that same amount of appreciation and tenderness he always held for you since the day he remembered who you were and what you meant to his old soul.

Albeit you’re selfish, these are the last words you’ll hear from him. Ever. After this…all he’ll be is a memory and you can’t accept it. You already lost one man you loved to death, you can’t lose another one to him again. Not again.

“Choso please don't do this! Stop! Please stop,” you beg with your life. “Choso!”

He holds your fire-kissed eyes that he loves so much and that he found hope in after a century of darkness, and all he sees is his joy as well as the love of his life and he can't be happier that fate was kind enough to let him cross paths with you.

“I love you,” he says a lot softer and with a quiver he can’t hide.

“No,” you sob. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me!”

He wishes he could stay and live a long life, he hates hearing you plead so heartbrokenly, but he can’t watch you or Yuji die, he has to do what he needs to do.

Thus he holds your gaze for a lingering second and then looks at his little brother.

“Thank you Yuji,” he now dedicates his last words to his little brother before his life can be taken once and for all. “Thank you for being my little brother.”

Yuji inhales sharply and shakily before filling his brother's heart with sweet words full of love. “Thank you. Big brother…”

After those words are uttered Choso’s chest stops moving once and for all, filling his protective blood bubble with a grieving silence that you can’t process.

You stand there with no heart left, and hundreds of words left in your mouth that you never got to tell him.

“Choso,” you call out even if you’re looking at a cruel reality. “My love?”

The protective blood shield that kept your surroundings dark begins to collapse welcoming a grim sight of thick smoke and a burnt city, proving Choso’s attempts worthwhile.

But you can’t be appreciative, not when his lifeless body falls on the ash-covered ground with a thud. You actually can’t even believe he’s gone—no refuse to accept the truth.

“Choso,” you cry out and crawl over to his body that would’ve been unrecognizable if you hadn’t seen him burn away. “Choso, baby, you,” you say between sobs. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

You gently cradle him and lean your face down towards his. “Just heal, you can do that,” you speak madness. “Do that for me please.”

You don’t think of your babies growing inside you who won’t know their father, you don’t care about his brother he left behind or that some part of you thinks you deserve this agony for all the things you’ve done, all you care about is him and your grief.

“Choso, honey,” you coo as you caress his hardened face. “Heal. Please,” you beg.

There’s still so much you want to tell him. You still need to tell him you love him, how grateful you are to him for loving you even after all the evil you did, for loving someone so cruel and selfish; for seeing the good, your strength, and your beauty. You never got to thank him for all the happiness he filled you with, or for caring for your daughter the way he did.

You never got to tell him that he was the love of your life, or that he completed your soul.

He left you like Suguru left you, and like Satoru did.

He left you empty with no heart or soul left. There’s an empty shell, left even more hollow without your brother. And it hurts, it pains you deeply with such an agonizing pain you have never felt before. It leaves you numb and unaware of the fact that in the blink of an eye, you were suddenly transported with lifeless Choso in your arms just past the area Sukuna vaporized with his fire.

From one moment to another, you’re facing a leveled city straight out of apolocpyse, and the next you’re staring numbly at an abandoned city as empty as the husk you call your body.

You would say that you were alleviated from that sense of danger, but the truth is you didn’t feel it. You don't feel the urgency to move away and protect yourself or who you carry in your body, nothing matters but the hope that Choso will somehow return. And now that nothing else surrounds you, now that Sukuna isn’t stomping your way through the clouds of smoke, you just disassociate yourself. By will or not you don’t know or care. You’re alone, truly alone.

And once again you can’t cling onto the love you have for your kids, no matter how hard you want to, you can’t depend all your happiness on a little girl. How could you give her that burden?

So it means that your greatest fear came true, you’re alone at the end of the world, carrying the corpse of your happiness, half your soul, and surrounded by the fading debris of what used to be.

What can you do now but lay down on the cold ground beside Choso’s corpse and nuzzle against him like you would in the mornings when you were both just relaxing before starting your day. You drape your arm around him like you liked to do so you could keep him close and bask in his warmth. You rest your head on his chest as if you were listening to his heartbeat.

Your world is now so desolate that nothing matters. You’re not cold or in a hurry to help.

You don’t care—or try not to…But the truth is you’re terrified and in withering pain. And never in your life have you ever felt so alone like now.

“You’re such a liar,” you whisper as if he could hear you. “You lied to me. You swore and you lied.”

You should hate him, find happiness, and hate him for leaving you the way he did, but you can’t even fathom the thought. You’re too in love with him to ever hate him or the happy memories that will surely turn sour soon.

“Why did you have to leave me?” You demand to know from a corpse as you refuse to accept reality. “Why? I love you so much…I told you I would die for you…”

You trail off to wait for a response because you know he’d tell you to shut up about doing something stupid, but it was far from a lie, and it was romantic in your head.

Now you understand why that foolish man from that tragic story killed himself for the woman he loved. You understand his pain, and his desperation to see the one you love again so you won’t have to spend a second longer without them. You know now why he couldn’t fathom living on…

Because there’s nothing left. You’re all alone, and there’s nothing worse than that. Which is why you’ll do it.

You’ll die for the man you love.

“Because,” you swear to whatever bind that holds power in your world. “What does strength mean compared to living without you? What is pride when there’s nothing to be proud of in the wake of your loss that will always hurt me and feel like a fresh wound? I don’t want to drag on without you. So please,” you sob into his chest. “Bring him back, I don’t care if he’s a non-sorcerer, just bring him back…”

You’ll give it up, your strength and power that held you so above everyone else. You’ll live as the people you hated. You’ll love the kind of people you hated and scorned for what they couldn’t have just so you don’t live without him. You will leave behind the person you took so long to build to your image. You will die just so you can live on with him by your side until the day you die.

And it can be a few hours from now, you don’t care, you just want him back.

“Please,” you beg whatever force made up the binding vows. “Please.”

You slowly sit up to look at Choso’s face, or what was left of him, and beg with all your agony and might. “Please just come back. Please Choso.” You whisper breathlessly and lean down to whisper against his lips and plead one more time with all the might and sincerity you hold.

“Please come back as gentle and sweet, as caring and passionate, as funny and protective as you were.”

You close your eyes and press your lips against Choso’s one more time, unaware of the fate you sealed, and of the gift of life and death you gave from deep inside of your withered soul with a sweet kiss.

When silence follows to consume you once again, it soon gets disrupted, but this time it’s not you that fills it with sorrowful words, this time Shoko calls out your name, but you don’t bother to get up.

Not because you’re waiting to see if your fate is sealed, you just don’t get up because you don’t have the energy. You’re too numb.

“Honey, get up and let me take you both inside,” she speaks sweetly and with caution.

You stay quiet and still as if you were lifeless yourself, so Shoko decides to slowly walk to you while someone else decides to cut in now; someone younger and sweeter and who doesn’t smoke ten packs in an hour.

Kirara calls out for you and they’re much faster to reach you and actually attempt to see if you were alive, or dead like the man you’re cradling.

“You can be with him inside. Come on, I'll help you.” They offer.

You close your eyes and sigh shakily, letting more hot tears stream down your cheeks,

“Come on,” Kirara doesn’t plead with you, she grabs your arm but makes sure to caress it as she offers her comfort first. “I’m sure this is uncomfortable, and I’m sure you’re cold.”

If you get up you’ll see Kirara, you’ll welcome their comfort. You’ll see Shoko and appreciate her attempts at comforting you, but you’ll still be alone, you won’t see the one person who you’re aching to see in such a low time in your life, Satoru won’t be there to wrap you an embrace or silently sit with you to provide comfort in a way he knows how.

You’ll stand surrounded by people but be abandoned.

“No,” you say hoarsely and grab onto Choso’s body a little tighter. “I want to stay here with him, I’m waiting.”

You open your eyes and catch Kirara's worried glance they share with Shoko.

Yet even then Shoko doesn’t walk over, so Kirara pulls you up and to avoid actually being a nuisance you push yourself up, but never take your eyes off Choso’s corpse.

“You fought well,” Kirara praises you as they wrap a blanket around your shoulders. “You all did.”

“I’ll have someone carry him inside you’ve already overstrained yourself,” Shoko breaks her silence that you begin to find odd. You’re surprised she’s not by your side being as worried as Kirara, she's actually being rather pushy after you returned from fighting Kenjaku.

Maybe all this has just taken a toll on her…

“You’ve been outside too long you feel rather cold,” Kirara points out as they drag their feet with you as you move slowly as if doing so is wearing you down.

“Shoko,” you catch the woman off guard and slowly drag your eyes up, letting her see how red your eyes are from crying so much, and the beautiful tragedy scared on every detail of your face and only spread its roots deeper within you. She can especially see such tragedy in your eyes, it’s hard to miss just like the sudden change.

Once furious eyes blazing with mesmerizing and ferocious fire are losing their mark.

But how, she wonders. Is your grief really impacting you so hard that it’s taking a physical toll on you?

“Kirara let's walk her into my office, I want to check on her,” she tells them as if you’re not there—then again you kind of aren’t there.

“Yuji? Where is Yuji?” You finally express your concern.

Shoko meets your gaze but quickly averts it. “Still fighting,” she lets you know and doesn’t fully relieve you of that worry, but you’re relieved he’s still alive.

“Todo used his technique and brought you in,” Kirara trails on after Shoko.

Aoi?

You glance over at Kirara with worry and they don’t fail to quickly assure you as if they knew what you were going to ask. “He’s fine, he should be helping Itadori fight now, so don’t worry.”

You sigh with relief even if now you have a bigger knot in your stomach because Todo is fighting now too.

“Kinji?” You ask for a man you haven’t heard anything about, even though given the fact that he wasn’t out fighting Sukuna, or here now means he should still be fighting Uraume.

“He’s still fighting, just like you said he would,” Kirara tells you with hope still laced in her voice which makes you think how beautiful it is to hear before you reach Shoko and wonder why she’s having such a hard time meeting your eyes, or even being close to you.

“Shoko,” you call out softly to your best friend and have Kirara stop so you can reach for Shoko’s arm with the intent to ask if she’s okay, or if something else happened, but then just as you thought that this was the end of your world, another pair of footsteps echo towards you.

You don’t think anything of it, you don’t want to because you assume someone is coming to collect Choso’s body, but Shoko shifts her head away and you catch a glimpse of black shoes you recognize. Black shoes you recognized first not long ago.

Can it be?

No, it can't, he's…dead.

But…

You draw in a deep and trembling breath and slowly scale your eyes up the approaching figure, feeling your pulse quickly racing as you recognize those baggy white pants you once thought were too big to wear for a fight, and that tight black shirt that hugged him tightly.

As you reach his face you question your sanity. It has to be your grief, it can’t be who you think it is right across from you.

He’s dead. He…he…

Oh, but those eyes. They’re so unique and so kind. How can you mistake that lively gleam in his eyes that always accompanied him? How can you mistake those bright eyes that you called home, that you found comfort in when you were terrified and upset?

You can’t mistake the eyes of your beloved older brother. You can’t miss the fact that his chest is moving and that he blinks. You can’t mistake him for an illusion because he revives that hope you had just lost with the death of your most beloved.

You can’t mistake him because he’s standing right there in front of you amongst the silent wind, the distant and unwelcoming warmth, and under the dry sky.

“Satoru,” you muse blissfully.

A/N- WHAT IS THE WORST THING SHE CAN DO AFTER FINDING OUT ABOUT WHAT THEY DID WITH GOJOS BODY?

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

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osunism · 16 days

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Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

Rating: Mature to Explicit [for future sexual content and graphic depictions of violence]. Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna Warning[s]: Smut, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga, so if you only watched the anime, turn back. Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi.

🪧 Be Advised: This is the sequel to BeastofNoNation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

𓃰 AO3 || OC Masterpost || Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Five: Inversion

November 17, 2018, Tokyo No. 1 Colony

Sundari, at her core, has always been a creature of sharp and unerring instinct. From the moment she was born, she was made painfully aware of how different she was from quite literally everyone around her. Not just in terms of appearance and power, but in how she chose to view the world. To her, there was never a question of whether to act, she simply saw a problem worthy of her attention and attempted to solve it.

It was a happy coincidence that many of those problems could only be resolved with spectacular displays of violence and artistic amounts of bloodshed.

She’s always had a keen gut instinct for trouble, and Sundari knows when a situation has gone tits-up.

It’s why she’s entering one of the colonies for the Culling Games, now.

The first thing that assaults her senses is the strange little creature that appears before her. It calls itself Kogane, and it asks her if she wishes to become a player.

“Yeah,” she says tersely. “Yeah, whatever, I’m a player; let me in.”

She can’t be credited with too much patience, but she’s pressed for time. Something is wrong, her gut is churning, and this little irksome shikigami creature is announcing to presumably everyone that she’s entered the game. That’s fine, she can handle whatever comes her way.

“Sundari Hikmat’s life is worth 5,000 points!”

Sundari is halfway to Shinjuku when she hears this announcement, and the echoes of it from other Kogane creatures nearby. The sentence bounces around in her skull like an endless refrain, and she allows herself an exhausted and defeated smirk before she turns her face to the sky.

“Fuck you,” she whispers, wishing that curse user monk could hear her. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

Not for the first time, but she regrets not unleashing all of herself in Shibuya that night. It seemed to work perfectly fine for her father. She makes a mental note to put skullfucking back on the menu when she crosses paths with the monk again.

The first sorcerer to come for her head attacks her in a Cinnabon when she’s scavenging for snacks. They were clever in their approach, she’d give them that much credit, but their cursed energy barely warrants the effort, and she emerges from the abandoned shop, gnawing on a stale cinnamon bun she attempted to reheat in a microwave. It’s not much, but breakfast is breakfast at this point.

The man hunting her this morning is a sorcerer by the name Genji Ishida, and Sundari regards him with a bored expression, her four-eyed perspective taking him in while keeping watch on her surroundings. She tastes his cursed energy, like corrupted ozone. She’s always likened it to ‘tainted’ magic. Other forms of magic have their own flavor, but jujutsu has always tasted wrong to her. Genji doesn’t have enough cursed energy to face her.

“Look,” she says, “I don’t know what you think you heard, but this isn’t a fight you want right now.” It’s a warning, and she hopes Genji has the good sense the gods gave a rabbit enough to fuck off and find some other sorcerer to play with. Sundari isn’t sure if she will be penalized for not killing sorcerers, but she knows she can. In fact, the game encourages it, and that’s what she’s afraid of: not of losing, but of winning so handily that the blood will soak Tokyo for weeks. She knows what she’s capable of and she knows she’s trying very hard not to be like her father.

She also suspects that’s why that dickhead monk has placed a veritable bounty on her head. He wants her to act up! Well, she will eventually, but she’s gonna offer as many ways to avoid it as possible.

Genji is not a smart man. In fact, as she gets a good look at him, she can see that the lights are not all on upstairs. There’s a vacant look in his eyes, and she can see the dried blood crusted around his nose. She wonders if he’s overused his technique recently.

“I need those points,” he says, and his lip curls into a sneer before he lunges for her. He’s faster than Sundari expected, and she rotates her body in a smooth pivot, taking his telegraphed strike and using his momentum to fling him effortlessly into the Cinnabon’s glass storefront. It shatters beautifully, as does the counter as Genji plows through it from Sundari’s powerful throw. Sundari waits to see if he gets back up.

He does, stumbling out of the shattered Cinnabon into the street where Sundari has given up on her breakfast and dusts the crumbs off on her pants before cracking her neck and her knuckles.

“You’re worth a whole five stacks,” Genji says, assuming a fighting stance, but Sundari sees him swaying unsteadily, like an uncertain serpent. He’s concussed. “No way I’m letting a steal like that pass me by.”

Sundari snorts. “Well, come collect your bounty if you can, buddy.” She makes a come-hither gesture with two fingers. Genji lunges at her again and this time she’s certain his cursed technique is burned out. She rotates out of his way again, playfully rolls out one of her extra arms to shove him in the back as he stumbles past her. She can tell the man’s brain has been cooked, likely because he doesn’t have good control over his cursed energy or technique. Her other arm rolls back into her body before he can get up and turn around.

“What the hell?” He mumbles. “Why can’t I make the fucking sparks come out?”

Sundari sighs. Yeah, he’s cooked. Suddenly, the fight has lost its petty amusement, and she keeps walking, ignoring the muzzy curses of the sorcerer behind her. He’ll be dead before nightfall if he doesn’t recover his cursed energy in time to fight off the actual curses plaguing the city at night. But that’s his problem.

Right now, Sundari has bigger fish to fry mainly, her father, whom she has just detected elsewhere in the colony. A massive burst of cursed energy that mirrors her own. Sundari’s focus tunnels down to that, and she takes off at a dead run, unhindered as she realizes her gut instinct is in fact correct again. However, being right isn’t always a good thing and Sundari finds utter devastation when she arrives.

Yuji is down, injured from a recent blow, and Sundari is at his side before she realizes something is terribly wrong. Yuji looks up at her, tears in his eyes, but Sundari’s eyes are wide because the soft, red slits where Sukuna’s lower eyes reside are no longer on his face. His face, which is twisted into such anguish as he tries to get the words out through the thick, wet flood of his own grief.

“He took them both,” Yuji says and Sundari realizes that not only is Megumi missing, but her mother as well. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. He just…he took Megumi.”

Sundari already knows the answer, but she asks anyway: “Who?”

“Sukuna,” Yuji whispers, and there is anguish and contempt in his voice. “Somehow he managed to escape my body and took Fushiguro…and then he took Hikmat-sensei, and they escaped with a shikigami.”

The fact that her mother is seemingly unable to kill her bastard of a father when it counts is beginning to irk Sundari. She is beginning to believe that her mother might still love the fucking bastard and that’s why she won’t strike when it’s time. Sundari clenches her fists and uses the menacing presence of her immense cursed energy to ward off any challengers who think to come for the prize on her head.

“Can you stand?” She asks and Yuji nods as she helps him to his feet. Maki soon joins them, but she looks more irritated than disappointed.

“There’s a price on your head, Hikmat-san,” Maki says. “Why’d you leave Tengen’s realm?”

Sundari chuckles. “I had a gut feeling that everything was going to shit so I came to help. Looks like I was right, for all the fucking good it did anyone.”

Maki shoulders her sword and heaves a sigh. “Yeah, well, that’s noble of you but now your cursed energy is going to be a flashing neon sign to any sorcerer stupid enough to try and claim the bounty.”

Sundari grins. “I hope so. I need them so I can open the Prison Realm.”

“What?!” Maki and Yuji exclaim in unison. Sundari waves her hand dismissively.

“Not here,” she says looking around. Most of the city is quiet, and there’s destruction where the fighting has been heaviest in the first few days of the Games. Their current location is indefensible, and Sundari can’t think of where they can go to enact her admittedly half-baked plan. She knows she requires more cursed energy to do what she tried before, but without Sukuna here to intervene she risks truly killing herself in the process. Gods take his withered soul for his perfidy. Sundari feels a rage inside her like brutal magma, and she wants so badly to kill her father, to end his curse upon this world once and for all.

Unless…

Sundari shuts her main eyes, keeping her lower eyes open to regard Yuji and Maki, as well as keep an eye on their surroundings. Looking at Maki is a bit unsettling because Sundari can detect no cursed energy from her. She’s like a void in the flow of the world: invisible to sorcerers, and deadly to them. She begins to breathe slower, letting herself feel her own body as she inhales and then exhales.

October 3, 2018, Gojo Satoru’s Residence, 21:35

Satoru manages to come home early one night. With the summer ended, and most troublesome curses exorcised, his schedule manages to free up only slightly, but it is enough that he no longer keeps exceedingly late hours. And so, he claims a rare moment of respite, eager to come home to the woman he has come to love so dearly. He can already taste her cursed energy, exactly like her father’s, and yet he would know her anywhere. Not just because of her energy, but because he sees her everywhere. He sees the shape of her lithe and svelte curves in the hills and mountains Tokyo is nestled within. He sees the dark glimmer of her garnet eyes if he focuses his vision just enough.

He can almost hear her rich laughter in the wind, a sound from her belly, where her secondary mouth grins.

It’s not until he crosses the threshold into his home, shuts and locks the door behind him, and pulls down his blindfold that he breathes her name like a secret he’s been keeping all day.

“Sundari…” His voice is rich with eagerness. He wants her, wants to wrap his arms around her and kiss the sharp black ink of her tattoos on her neck, down to the tender spot between her shoulder blades.

He follows his senses and finds her seated on a grassy rise overlooking the vast forest that extends endlessly. It is a hidden place, and Satoru likes to believe that it has become their place. Few know this location, and even fewer have set foot here. Satoru has taken great pains to keep Sundari hidden until he can smooth things over with the higher-ups, whom he knows will call for her immediate execution.

An abomination, they’d call her.

A goddess. He’d counter.

Sundari’s back is to him, and he notices that she is nearly naked, clad only in what looks to be a—

Oh. She’s nude and wearing nothing but a gold waist chain. Satoru bites his lip and shuts his eyes momentarily, letting out a small laugh.

She’s sitting cross-legged, her main eyes are shut, the smaller set focused on the moonrise. All four of her arms are present, each of her four hands in a different mudra. Satoru’s asked her about them, and she’s explained their meanings to him, so different from the ones he was taught. Still, they are effective, and she seems to be engaged in some sort of meditation. The mouth on her belly is chanting, but the mouth on her face is neutral, full lips slightly parted.

She’s doing intense breath work, and Satoru studies her.

Stark black tattoos—Sukuna’s exactly—stand vividly against her almond-brown skin. Every part of her seems deliberately sculpted, a testament to her lifetime spent being raised as a warrior, as he was. He tries to imagine how Nadja, who has no cursed energy, had managed to raise someone as powerful as Sundari. He has so many questions, and yet all of that is doused out of him when he sees her main eyes open, and she turns to look at him over her shoulder.

“Satoru,” there is a burgeoning smile in her voice, and her voice has a slight ring of power. His Six Eyes read the overwhelming flow of her cursed energy. It heaves and sighs like the ocean but moves slow like the earth. Each breath she takes draws it in, and every exhale pushes it out. He watches her rein it in tighter with each breath and push it out slower with each exhale.

Her heart is beating strongly and steadily, and he can see the heat building in her belly, her cursed energy pulsing like a neutron star: blinding and overwhelming.

But not to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. No, he can bare the beautiful brightness of her. He revels and basks in it as if she is the sun, and he wants nothing more than to see her revel and bask as well. Creatures like them will never take to being slapped with a bridle and led by the nose. No, she—like him—deserves to run free.

One of her hands beckons him closer, an elegant roll of her wrist, delicate but deadly fingers crooked and alluring; and he comes to sit beside her. They have established equal footing in more ways than one. He is not afraid to yield to her demands from time to time.

“You’re home early,” she murmurs, even as her lower mouth chants empowered sutras in a soft and sweet melody that seems to blend so nicely with the deepening night. Satoru marvels at her when she does this. The secondary mouth does not strain her heart or lungs yet is as powerful as her main mouth.

“Curses are incubating,” Satoru says, “and there’s nothing that requires my level of intervention. I can fuck off if I want.”

Sundari snorts. “And this is you fucking off, is it?”

Satoru leans back on his hands, stretching his long legs in front of him as he awards her with one of his feline grins.

“Hey, I’m allowed to fuck off in any way I please,” he tells her. “And don’t act like you don’t like me fucking off with you.”

It’s ridiculous, this exchange, but that’s sort of the nature of their friendship…and a core foundation of their continued attraction to one another. They burst into mutual laughter. Sundari breaks her concentration, and her cursed energy stills like a placid lake, blanketing the area, overlapping with his. Satoru sees it like moonlight dancing off the surface of her lake. It’s beautiful, how their energy blends so well together.

“What were you doing?” Satoru asks. “Just now. I don’t recognize those sutras.”

Sundari gives him a tender smile; a benevolent goddess answering a willing acolyte.

“A breathing technique my teacher showed me. It helps cycle my cursed energy through my body more efficiently.” At Satoru’s expression she frowns. “Look, just because my dad was—is—a prodigy, doesn’t mean I was. I was just born with a lot of power and a unique physique. But I definitely wasn’t always good at it.”

“Still,” Satoru says, “you’ve got an instinct for it. And your martial arts are impeccable. I’m more afraid of your hand-to-hand combat than your techniques.”

Sundari smiles. It’s strange to her that he says this, because most of jujutsu society prides itself on whatever unique and powerful techniques manifest. But Sundari was raised amongst women whose value could be weighed in coin on the best nights. They were courtesans and warriors. Vanhi had been strict in having Sundari learn to be a cunning and powerful fighter before she trained her to wed those skills to sorcery. In retrospect, Sundari can understand why. She’s made a god bleed, and she’s faced off with the most powerful sorcerers and held her own.

“I see,” she says, grinning. She adjusts her body, folding her legs under her and retracting her lower arms. They roll into her body in an incomprehensible display and then they are gone. A second black band manifests on her arms and wrists, and she looks at him in full. Satoru studies her beautiful face, the wide garnet eyes and the smaller ones beneath, which flare to the color of crystalized blood when she’s excited or angry. The stark black trishula symbol on her brow marks her as Sukuna’s own. As does everything about her.

“You going to kiss me or what?” He asks. “Don’t make me beg.”

Sundari chuckles, a rich and husky sound that makes him shiver.

“But you’re so good at it, Satoru,” her tongue caresses his name tenderly and he swears he can feel it on his cock. He wants her to suck him off, right here under the stars. He wants to see those perfect, pouty lips wrapped around his shaft.

Fuck. He might just beg tonight, but he doesn’t want to beg. He wants her to come to him when he calls her.

Sundari stares at him, amusement giving an impish look to her grin. She’s going to play this game right alongside him, and he grinds his teeth a little. He doesn’t know it yet, but Sundari is more like her father than either of them realize. The same sinister smirk, the wicked glint of mischief in her four eyes, and the dimples in her cheeks giving her sharp and dangerous appearance a softness that Satoru has come to adore. A woman—no, his goddess—whose power rivals his own, and right now she looks as if a butterfly would be safe in her fight-ready hands.

God, he loves her.

“Come here,” he says to her, but he’s reaching for her, fingertips brushing the apple of her cheek. Sundari shuts her main eyes, leaning into his touch. He watches her breathing even out from his mere touch. Such a spitfire and yet she seems wholly trusting and ready to yield to him. She finally relents, and instead of leaning in, she crawls onto him to straddle him. Satoru’s arms come up automatically to wrap around her naked body, his palms smoothing up the sinuous length of her back. Her skin is so satiny and tender to the touch. He’ll never tire of touching her.

Sundari’s ankles lock behind his back. The lotus position is her favorite, he’s learned. It’s his too: he loves being able to see her and feel her come undone as he holds her close. His cock strains in his pants, and he swears he can feel the heat of her naked cunt against the fabric. Her body always feels like she has magma running in her veins in lieu of blood.

No. Ichor. Her mother isn’t human. Sundari is an immortal.

“Satoru…” her voice has a warning note in it but is softened by concern. He’s in his head again.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “It’s just that you’re so goddamn beautiful, baby. Took my breath away.”

Sundari rolls all four of her eyes, but her smile is fond, and he can see the heat blooming in her cheeks like a soft candle glow.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” she says back, and she rewards him by kissing him. Satoru’s lips part even as he’s grinning, basking in her affections shamelessly. After all, they’re for him and him alone. He presses her closer to him, and she moans softly when her breasts rub against the fabric of his jacket. Her nipples harden at the contact, making her hiss.

Satoru’s mouth leaves hers reluctantly, but his leans in to trace the sleek line of her jaw with his lips. He presses kisses so soft against her skin, Sundari nearly whimpers from the tenderness of it, shivering in his arms and linking her arms around his neck, her hands threading through his silvered white hair. Satoru purrs from the sensation of her nails rubbing and massaging his scalp.

For a while there is only kissing, and caressing, and basking in the closeness of one another. They can do this for only so long before one or the other insists on taking things further. Satoru can be impatient, but Sundari is insatiable in her hunger for him. It’s only a matter of time before—

Sundari rocks her hips and now he can feel the slick heat of her through the fabric of his pants. His mouth goes dry, and he swallows.

“Fuck…” he whispers reverently, resisting the urge to pump his hips up just for the sheer sensation. He knows she’s wet, knows it as surely as anything, but he refuses to break first.

“Satoru…” Sundari purrs his name in his ear, nipping his earlobe and making him shiver. He spends so much of his time being untouchable that these soft, intimate moments are a delicious indulgence for him that rivals his actual sweet tooth. He loves to be touched. Loves the sensation of skin against his own, of being so thoroughly entangled that their limbs seemed to blend. He needs to be inside her. He needs his skin on hers. Fuck, he’s going to break if she doesn’t stop.

“Don’t you want me?” She whispers.

“Of course I want you,” Satoru says. “I just…I’m learning to savor what’s in front of me. And you’re worth savoring.”

Sundari smiles, leans in so that they can kiss again. “Sweet talker…”

Satoru lets himself be smug. “I eat enough sugar for it. I’m the sweetest talker, baby…”

“Shut up,” Sundari murmurs, but the grin in her voice is all too telling of how his words affect her. She clings to him as they kiss, Satoru’s hands running a circuit over every inch of her within his reach.

Satoru grips her waist, pulls her down so that she bounces on the bulge of his cock prettily. He relishes in her surprised groan of pleasure, and there’s a wet spot on his pants where her cunt has grown slick as she rocks her hips to grind against him. He grins at her, and holds up one hand, his index and middle fingers crossed. Her eyes widen as she realizes what he’s about to do. They’re closer than ever, now, and Satoru wants to show her something he’s never gotten the chance to show anyone else in this way.

“Ryōiki Tenkai…”

Zenin Estate, November 18, 2018, 14:35

Nadja is not sure how long she lingers in the living, writhing shadows Megumi’s technique have dropped her in. She cannot see, but her senses strain for any sign that will give her a clue as to where she is. She does not have to wonder long, as the shadows surge beneath her, and suddenly she’s rushing up and up and up, until she breaks the surface, spilling onto the flagstones of a walkway. She recognizes the Zenin Estate instantly, and she can smell the death Maki left behind.

She comes onto her hands and knees, her arms shaky as she vomits onto the stones, shaking off the last vestiges of disorientation from the living shadow that brought her here.

“Still alive,” Sukuna’s voice spills down her senses like warm honey and she climbs to her feet, swaying slightly as she regains her bearings. She turns to look at the new face he wears, keeps her expression neutral as she realizes he has now possessed the body of Megumi Fushiguro. It is strange, but he looks nothing like Megumi. The vessels always get warped to reflect his true face in some way. His smirk is the same, though, and he tilts his head.

“My fugitive of heaven fears not even the shadows, hm?” He closes the distance between them, impossibly fast, and Nadja is still too shaky to react in time as his fist collides with her ribs. All the air in her lungs is driven out in a rush, followed by a choking sound as she crumples to her knees before him. Sukuna stares down at her, fury banked in his wild, crimson eyes.

“That,” he says, his rich voice limned in malice, “I owed you.”

Nadja can’t help herself, even at his mercy: she laughs.

“And when you have finished beating me to hell and back, what then?” She grits out, holding her injured side, already healing. She cannot rise from her knees, the pain in her ribs is too great. Sukuna doesn’t care, he reaches down to grab a fistful of her hair and shake her head roughly.

“I will do it for as long as it takes.” He snaps. “Remember: I promised to repay you for every year you hid her from me and made me wait for you.”

Nadja looks up at him, and for a moment there are no words, only a silent tension building between them, thick and cloying and choking out all other air in the world. Sukuna’s eyes are dark, drifting downward where he can see her pulse hammering like a trapped thing. He briefly remembers a time when the sight of her pulse hammering was because of excitement to be with him. Not this.

He shoves her away with a disgusted sound, whether with her or himself is anyone’s guess.

“Sukuna-sama,” the cool and even voice of Uraume slithers through the tension like a cold river cutting through stone. Both Sukuna and Nadja turn their gazes to them. Uraume does not even spare Nadja a glance, keeping their gaze respectfully downcast as they reported to Sukuna that his bath was ready. Sukuna’s stony expression melts into one of malicious pleasure. He glances back at Nadja, disdain flitting across his gaze before returning to neutrality.

“Get up, we aren’t finished.” He snaps. Nadja cannot believe that after a thousand years the commanding growl in his voice still sends shivers down her spine…not all of them unpleasant. Not to be humiliated, Nadja climbs to her feet, steadier than before, her expression one of fierce determination. She steadies her mind and steels her heart. Whatever he sees makes Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly—briefly—before he turns on his heel and begins to stride off, Uraume following three steps behind. Nadja trails after them, and notes that she is still armed. Whatever reason for it, Nadja is certain Sukuna knows himself at an advantage here. She won’t kill him if he is using Fushiguro as a vessel, and he can’t kill her so he will find other ways to hurt her instead.

But he knows every time he does hurt her, it is very real. Sukuna is cunning, and it’s what makes his cruelties particularly sharp and cutting. Nadja knows he will try to kill her in other ways. That fills her with apprehension. She will stay her hand, for now.

They walk further into the Zenin compound, and Nadja can smell the sourness of Maki’s vengeance everywhere, but even more so, she can smell the utter rot coming from the large outbuilding that she knows to be the Zenin’s disciplinary pit. They’d made a habit of collecting and corralling curses, usually grade two or below, and tormenting prisoners and disciplining subordinates.

And, Nadja remembers bitterly, torturing Toji. She remembers him telling her one night, and she wonders why thoughts of him make her heart constrict. She misses him.

But her worst mistake now stands at the lip of the steps to that same pit, which no longer contains any curses. Sukuna’s presence is enough to frighten other curses out of the area, if he doesn’t exorcise them himself. Nadja comes to stand just behind his shoulder and looks into the pit.

Viscous, living darkness bubbles and roils, smelling of death and poison. She clamps her teeth to keep from gagging from the stench.

“Oh! You’re about to start without me?” Comes a cheerful and playful voice. Nadja notes the look of brief irritation flitting across Uraume’s face before she turns to see Geto—or rather, Noritoshi Kamo—coming to join them. Her gaze hardens. It is too much to hope that Sundari killed him in Shibuya. Still, she has unfinished business with him: starting with why he bound Sundari’s seal to her father’s incarnation.

Geto wrinkles his nose, waving one of his sleeves as he covers his mouth and nose with the other.

“Ick,” he spits in disgust. “What manner of bath is this? Is it safe? Does it even feel good?”

Sukuna begins to disrobe, heedless of the bickering growing at his back as Uraume explains the purpose of the ritual bath. Nadja is horrified with every word she hears, watching as Sukuna wades into the roiling mass of tar-like liquid, until he vanishes beneath the surface, fully submerged.

Silence follows, and for a while, he does not come back up. Nadja begins to wonder if perhaps the foul poison has managed to kill the King of Curses and then she remembers he is immune to poison and disease. He surfaces, and there is a look of resolute neutrality on his face, his eyes seem to look less human: red ringed with black. He ascends the steps as Uraume presents his clothing to him with a reverent bow. He pulls on his clothing, throwing his black haori over his shoulders before they move from the pit, leaving the poisonous bath behind. Nadja breathes a small sigh of relief as they put distance between themselves and that cursed place. It makes her soul shudder.

Kenjaku speaks frankly of what has transpired since the Culling Games began. Nadja listens, keeping her face schooled to disinterested neutrality.

Yuki is dead.

Nadja tries not to let that show on her face but there is a brief tension between her shoulder blades as she absorbs the news like a blow, willing herself to compartmentalize the pain of such a loss. That leaves only Yuta, Satoru, and Sundari as the only ones truly strong enough to contend with this trio should she fail to complete her mission. But she cannot do this without at least trying to save Fushiguro. She thinks of Sundari’s abilities, and Yuji’s. How long did Sukuna soak in the boy’s soul? And the hard usage he put his body through…at least some of his techniques should be engraved on him by now. Nadja takes another breath.

Choso escaped. Good. And judging by the fact that the world has not been swarmed with curses, Tengen is alive. Even this creature wearing Geto’s face is not fool enough to tamper with that. Not unless…

“I brought you something,” Geto says, and Uraume makes a terse sound with their teeth. “A gift.”

Sukuna’s brows raise in a silent question as they enter the estate proper. Sukuna has claimed it as his territory since the Zenins are no more, and he strides about like the lord of the entire place. Nadja cannot believe his arrogance once charmed her. It feels so petty, now. Still, there was somewhat about him that had staid her hand a millennia ago. And something that makes her hesitate even now.

They find Geto’s gift waiting in the receiving room. Nadja’s eyes go wide, Uraume sucks in an affronted breath, and Sukuna laughs.

Seated on the dais, clad in the funerary robes befitting his status as a powerful shaman, is Sukuna’s mummified body.

For some reason, seeing it makes Nadja’s mind go white, and freezes her body. It is unnerving and unsettling. Here, standing before her, Sukuna fully incarnated in Fushiguro’s body. There, seated like some grotesque shrine statue, his original body, too powerful to be consigned to any sort of destruction, and so mummification and placement deep within Tengen’s layered barriers was the only way to contain the sheer power of Ryōmen Sukuna.

Beneath the sleeves of his robes, all twenty fingers on the hands of the mummy are missing.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” Sukuna asks, mildly amused. Geto turns out his hands in a helpless shrug.

“Well,” he says, “it occurred to me that—oh. Nadja! What are you doing here, naughty girl? Sukuna, did you want us to leave you two alone?” Geto’s tone turns playfully suggestive and Nadja’s eyes narrow at him, unamused. Sukuna waves his hand.

“She and I have unfinished business, yes, but that can wait.”

Geto shrugs, but there’s something shrewd in his gaze that tells Nadja he does not share Sukuna’s nonchalance about her presence.

“In any case,” he continues, his tone turning bright and conversational again. “It occurred to me that you haven’t collected all of your missing Fingers. Only one to go, correct?”

Sukuna snorts. “It’s of little consequence,” he says. “One Finger won’t tip the scales in their favor. Let them come if they think they’re ready.”

Nadja is certain none of them are ready for Sukuna who is nearly at full strength, and her right eye burns in the presence of his cursed energy. Fushiguro’s entire soul is a wickless flame, guttering and sputtering in the darkness in which Sukuna has subsumed him. Her heart aches for the boy, but there is nothing she can do for him right now. Her sword does one thing well, and neither Sukuna nor his vessel can survive it.

“Shall I have the evening meal prepared, Sukuna-sama?” Uraume asks. Sukuna grins.

“As always, you know my mind, Uraume,” he says. “I do not need to eat any longer, but I do miss the taste of good food. See what the Zenins have in storage and make do.”

Uraume bows deeply. “As you wish, Sukuna-sama.”

They are cat quiet as they leave the room. Geto watches them go, a look of vulpine fascination on his face. He meets Nadja’s gaze, and his grin seems too wide, even for the face he wears.

“If there’s nothing else…” Sukuna says, a warning note in his tone. Geto takes it as his cue to leave. It seems whatever plans these two have laid will not be spoken of in front of her. Nadja watches Geto leave, and he gives her a simpering smirk. She cannot wait to kill him.

The doors slide shut.

Nadja and Sukuna are alone—truly alone—for the first time in centuries.

They gaze at one another, a room apart. That strange tension is winding up again, like a spring condensing to its absolute limit. The neutrality of his face cracks just a little, and she sees glimpses—phantoms, really—of the man she once knew. Sukuna is patient, but seeing her standing there, looking exactly the same as the last time he saw her in such a setting, has his senses and emotions battling themselves to a pained and steamy gridlock. This is the woman whose presence had ablated a heart of iron to rust beneath the steadiness of her affections. This is the woman who had promised to remain by his side, no matter how far her damnable mandate took her.

He thinks of Sundari’s face, her insolence, the way he saw so much of himself in her.

He studies Nadja, takes in the svelte lines of her curves, not a glimmer of threatening steel visible on her, but he remembers how well-hidden and cunningly placed her blades are. And that sword, the one he knows is drawn only to kill, along the length of her spine. That tiny poisonous blade at the nape of her neck.

The razor hidden in her mouth, somewhere against her tongue.

The tension draws taut. Sukuna feels the power in him surge, the veins in his hands growing slightly more prominent.

There is a split second where both wonder who will move first, and then there is a sound like whistling as both of them move simultaneously. Sukuna hears the hiss of steel derailing from its sheath, Nadja’s right eye begins translating Sukuna’s cursed energy to her nervous system in real time, and her body reacts accordingly.

Together, they tear the receiving room apart. Sukuna hates that Fushiguro’s body is not as durable and acrobatic as the brat’s, but he makes do. Nadja moves like poetry, indescribably fluid and inhuman, as if she and the earth breathe as one, surging on the crest of her own immeasurable strength.

And Sukuna finds it hard to detect her. When her blades are sheathed, they are sealed, and their cursed energy is hidden from his senses. And Nadja, possessing no cursed energy, can hide from him. He has fought many beings like her since last they met, and so finding her becomes second-nature.

He simply looks for the space where cursed energy seems to stutter. He looks for a void.

And he finds her.

Nadja is mid-draw of her sword when Sukuna catches her by the elbow and swings her over, slamming her bodily into the floor. The floorboards crack and shatter beneath the force of the blow. Nadja is momentarily shocked, emitting a choked sound as her body bounces off the floor. Sukuna still has a grip on her arm, and he thinks to himself before the grip tightens, and Nadja cries out as her bones begin to give under the pressure of his strength.

“You thought you could sneak back to Japan a thousand years later and I wouldn’t find you?” Sukuna growls, dragging her stumbling toward him. “You thought I’d forget what you did? What you took from me?”

Nadja’s mind is hazed with crimson, pain the only note singing in her already high-strung nerves. Sukuna is patient, but for this, he will make an exception.

He finishes his transformation, and Nadja finds herself hauled by four individual hands, grasping each of her limbs.

“I should tear you apart, right now,” Sukuna says, his voice deeper, rumbling in her bones like an ancient god. How ironic to see him here and see his corpse just behind him.

Sukuna drops her, and she lands in a pained heap on the floor at his feet.

The transformation doesn’t last long. It reverts and Sukuna lets out a swear. Without his complete power, he cannot hold his true form for long. Nadja cradles her injured arm, climbing to her feet. Sukuna turns from her, walking toward his corpse.

“Hm…” He muses, staring at his mummified face. Nadja watches him, and then is horrified when his hand snaps out, and tears his own head from his corpse’s shoulders. Even worse is that he brings it to his mouth and devours it. Nadja’s stomach roils at the sound of flesh and bone tearing and crunching. He devours his own head, and then turns to Nadja, smirking.

“Much better,” he says with a satisfied sigh, and the transformation comes back. He grows, and his cursed energy wraps around him like a cocoon. When it disperses, he is as she first knew him, and she knows this time it’s for good. “This is a cause for celebration. And Nadja, what a happy coincidence that you’re here…”

November 19, 2018, Tokyo No. 1 Colony

Sundari can feel them converging on her location, and she smirks as she sits down. She expands her awareness, and she can feel the distinct cursed energy of Yuji and the others, moving further away as she’s ordered them to do. Yuji was reluctant to leave her alone, but she needs them out of range for what she plans to do.

She also doesn’t want them to see what she plans to do. It’s a gamble, but she trusts that it’ll work as it’s meant to; otherwise, she’s given them orders to retreat to safety if she fails.

Sundari doesn’t think she will fail in this.

It doesn’t take long, and Sundari slips into an almost meditative state, cycling through different levels of breathing, her cursed energy flooding the area like the gentle and powerful heave of an ocean. And at the center of it, her in utter stillness. She is like living statuary, and like any warrior during moments of peace, she prepares. Her eyes are open and unblinking, and that is when she feels them.

Her challengers.

They’re a cluster in one place, and she sees them, crawling out of the surrounding alleys like vermin.

Like maggots.

Sundari surprises herself with the snarling voice in her head as she regards the approaching sorcerers with disdain. She can already tell that they are not strong enough to last against her. She has tested her mettle against both Satoru and her father and has gained the respect and acknowledgment of both.

She does not fear those who have not tasted true divinity.

They hesitate. Her cursed energy rivals her father’s, and she realizes that some of these sorcerers must be incarnated from his era. They recognize his cursed energy and she can see their puzzlement. The cat’s out of the bag, as the Americans say: they know Sukuna has a direct descendant. The price on her head pales in comparison to the glory they will win for slaying the Princess of Curses. For some, it is just that: for glory. For others—the new-blooded sorcerers awakened by Noritoshi’s mad scheme—the points on her head are a temptation that can free them from this waking nightmare.

Sundari knows this, and even so, she is determined to kill all of them.

She waits until they’re within range, and then she rolls out her lower arms, the maw on her belly opening as she forms a mudra and begins to chant.

“Ryōiki Tenkai: Tripura Purification.”

It’s too late when they hear her resonant voice tolling like a bell, and there is no barrier for them to discern how far they need to run to escape. Out of consideration for Yuji and the others, Sundari makes a binding vow to restrict her domain’s normal radius, having learned from watching her father’s decimation of Shibuya. She is the epicenter of instant destruction, and her lower mouth continues to sustain the domain, while the mouth on her face stretches into a manic grin.

Everything with cursed energy within the domain immediately withers away. The screams of agony die stillborn as Sundari absorbs all of the cursed energy in the domain. With her upper arms, she reaches into the pack slung across her shoulders and withdraws the backdoor of the Prison Realm, setting it in front of her.

She makes another mudra, the memory of her once and only once touch of the divine. She has enough, she thinks. She can do it.

“Hanten: Divine Mandate.”

The world shudders.

Sundari knows what she’s doing. She is half-divinity, after all. She is daring, reaching, up and up and up, until she places her metaphysical fingers on the divine pulse of the very universe. The eyes of the divine turn in incomprehensible slowness. Sundari is making a request the gods must answer, and in exchange, something must be sacrificed.

She offers up the cursed energy gathered in the desolation of her domain, and the world seems to grind to a halt.

The gods are considering her request.

Sundari’s eyes glow white, divinity surging through her as the cursed energy doubles back on itself, becoming positive energy. The Prison Realm shudders. The binding vow of that damnable Genshin tugs at her own will, but then there’s a collective breath.

The gods have decided.

Sundari feels the scales of the universe tip in her favor, ignores the blinding pain behind her right set of eyes as her brain burns and reforms, burns and reforms, her technique burning and engraving itself over and over as the gods give their answer, and take the sacrifice on the altar.

The Prison Realm bursts open in a spray of divine energy that burns Sundari’s tattoos as her father’s curse shudders against the force of such a powerful vow.

A vow, finally broken and released.

Somewhere, far away, the ocean boils, and something that witnesses would swear was a shooting star streaks into the sky, flying toward the smudge that is Japan in the distance.

The world exhales as Six Eyes open.

Sundari dismisses her domain, blood pouring from her nose as she slumps over, her vision fading to darkness. She’s distantly aware of Yuji crying her name, can see him running toward her as she shuts her eyes.

Somewhere, deep within the Zenin estate, Sukuna grins at Nadja as if he has finally found an answer to a question that he has pondered for over a millennium.

“Asura.” He says and watches as fear—true fear—crosses Nadja’s beautiful face for the first time.

Sundari, what have you done?

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© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #muse writes #fic: daughter of disgrace #series: parallax #oc: sundari hikmat #oc: nadja hikmat #ch: itadori yuji #ch: ryōmen sukuna #ch: uraume #ch: kenjaku #ch: gojo satoru #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc #sukuna x oc #sukuna x black oc #satoru gojo x oc #gojo x oc

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