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m1ckeyb3rry · 11 months ago

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Pomegranate Ink: XVI

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Your outing with Gojo is interrupted by the higher ups requesting that you go check in on Megumi Fushiguro, who still hasn’t returned from his mission from the morning.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i hate writing sukuna because he’s such a little freak in canon that almost any decision i make abt him feels ooc so sorry to my sukuna lovers but this is the way he is in this fic please don’t be too mad. also yeah megumi is probably kinda ooc here too feel free to be annoyed abt that. I ACTUALLY CAN WRITE HIM (# shameless ‘a song for the drowned’ plug) I PROMISE. just not in this chapter apparently.

“My father resents me for it,” you said. It was the first thing you said to Gojo as you sat down together. He pulled out a napkin from the holder sitting in the middle of the cheap linoleum table and used it to wipe away the crumbs that still littered the surface. “For finding a way around that ultimatum he gave me.”

To heal or to fight. According to your father and the rest of the higher ups, these were the only choices you had, and they were very much so mutually exclusive. You could do one or the other but not both, and the fact was that they were actually correct in saying this. On your own, you could not do it, could not have both, but you were no longer on your own. Not anymore.

“Is that so?” Gojo said, lips quirking up in amusement. “Well, I’ve always wondered how your poor mother married such a man. Isn’t it something, that he has somehow fathered such a prodigy and yet hates her for the mere fact that she is out of his control? Ironic, really. You are exactly what the L/N clan has needed for so many years, and yet now that you are born, you are despised.”

“I am a girl,” you reminded Gojo. “I’m not exactly what they were hoping for in terms of an heir.”

It was a little disquieting when he smiled with his teeth bared. If you did not know him in the way that you did, you’d consider it almost unnatural, even, but as the case was, it just seemed to you as if it were too wide. Too bright, too false. An emotion conveyed that he did not even mean.

“No, I’d wager you’re a great deal better,” he said, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. “The girl who brought someone back to life and the youngest Grade 1 sorcerer in recent history; you’ve really proven yourself in the past year. I can say that at least I am proud of you, even if your family isn’t.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you said, uncomfortable with the praise. “Anyways, my mother is proud of me, so that makes two of you. As for the rest of my family, I believe that they are unsure. They do not understand what it means for the clan, that I can do both — albeit at Tullia’s expense.”

The past few weeks, you and Tullia had been training intensely with Shoko Ieri, the only Reverse Cursed Technique user not associated with the L/N clan. It had been a slow process at first, trying to figure out how to push your limits without putting Tullia through the same torture that you had inadvertently subjected her to in the process of healing Toge.

You were not always successful. You could not count the amount of times you had had to stop Composition but were not fast enough, were not able to cut it off before she began to bleed again. But it was better now; though nosebleeds were an inevitable side effect, it was a compromise that all parties were somewhat satisfied with. According to her, she barely even felt them.

It was through such tireless practice that you discovered the way to use the contract to your advantage. By pushing the entire responsibility of the cursed energy supplication to Tullia, you were able to ensure that your body was naturally receptive to receiving the repercussions of the Reverse Cursed Technique. An exchange for an exchange, a burden for a burden, but a far more advantageous one than the earlier scenario, because you possessed the body of a L/N, uniquely designed to handle the pain of Composition, and Tullia had that rare cursed technique which meant her reserves were not dependent on her innate self but instead drew from outside sources and could approach infinity if she had sufficient access to poison.

“The healer and the empty glass,” Gojo said, nodding in approval. “Who would’ve thought that things would turn out like this?”

“I suppose that’s the case. Isn’t it strange? I feel like I should be thanking Naoya. It’s only because of his irresponsibility that Tullia and I could even form the contract in the first place,” you said. Gojo choked on the pastry he had ordered.

“There’s never a situation that would justify you thanking him, so you can put that thought out of your mind,” he said.

“I was only half serious. If there’s anyone to thank, it’s Elakshi, for bringing that curse to Japan. By the way, have you heard anything from Iori about her and how she’s settling in?” you said.

“Nope, Utahime is in one of those phases where she won’t respond to my texts or calls,” he said, pouting comically. “I wish she wouldn’t do that! It makes planning faculty get togethers a real pain, you know?”

“I‘ll ask Noritoshi about it, then,” you said. “And I’ll tell him to tell Iori to text you back or whatever.”

“I knew you were my favorite student for a reason,” he said.

“Technically, I’m not your student anymore, I’m Kusakabe’s, so I believe that means Megumi has to be your favorite. By process of elimination — after all, he is the only first year,” you said.

“The other one is coming soon!” Gojo said. “She’s a girl, too. The one who you’re going to try to mentor or whatever. Are you excited to meet her?”

“Naturally. Though I don’t know if the mentoring life is necessarily for me, it would be nice for someone to look up to me and find me cool and occasionally ask me for advice,” you said.

“I always wished I had someone like that. Nanami was my greatest chance, but on the whole he found me mostly irritating,” he said. You smiled, taking a small bite of your own pastry, chewing and swallowing before you spoke.

“Maybe you already have someone like that,” you said. He cocked his head.

“Do you think so?” he said. You shrugged.

“It could be,” you said. Gojo waited for a moment, but when you did not speak further, he sighed.

“Honestly,” he said, and though he was wearing a blindfold, you could feel the weight of his eye roll. “Of course you won’t elaborate. Frustrating child.”

“I learned from the best,” you said. He stuck his tongue out at you, but could not otherwise argue; after all, your logic was irrefutable. In the year that you had become truly close with Gojo, you had found his personality to have rubbed off on yours the slightest bit. It was both a positive and a negative — that is to say, it was a positive for you and a negative for just about everyone else.

“Moving on, have you started thinking about what you’ll do after your graduation?” Gojo said.

“Huh? Become a sorcerer, of course. I’m already a first grade, it only makes sense that I’d continue to fight. I guess I can heal on the side, if Tullia permits it, but the main thing I’ll do is exorcising,” you said.

“I don’t mean for your occupation. When you don’t have your schoolwork to occupy you and you don’t live in the same building as all of your friends, what will you do? For fun. To entertain yourself. That kind of thing,” he said.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted. “I’ll take up something or another. Though, if we’re being realistic, how much free time do you genuinely think I’ll have? There’s not a large amount of sorcerers in the first place, and of that sum total, ones that are as highly ranked as I am barely even number in the double digits. I can worry about entertainment once I’ve retired, and I doubt that that’s going to happen for a very long time.”

“Sorry,” Gojo said. It was unclear what he was apologizing for. That you had inherited such a world? That he had brought up the topic in the first place? That he was so aware of the problem but could not fix it?

Maybe he might’ve explained himself further, but just then, your phone rang. You frowned at the contact flashing on the screen: Yoshinobu Gakuganji. Motioning for Gojo to pay for the desserts you had been eating, you clicked the ‘accept’ button and held the phone up to your ear.

“I didn’t know you could use a phone,” you said critically. “I thought you only communicated by mail, principal.”

“Don’t be daft, girl,” Principal Gakuganji snapped, as if you were saying something entirely unbelievable — as if he did not consistently send you mission instructions through letters instead of emails, as was the commonly accepted practice! “Of course I can use a phone.”

“Why have you called me? I’m a little busy right now,” you said. Gojo mouthed who? at me. You made a face and mimed playing a guitar at him. He pursed his lips, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently.

“Did you know that first-year student Megumi Fushiguro is on a mission to pick up a cursed object at present?” the principal said, his voice heavy and wheezy as always.

“Still? I thought he was sent on that mission in the morning?” you said.

“That is the case. Because of the sensitive nature of the object — it’s one of Sukuna’s fingers, you know — we’ve been trying to get ahold of Satoru Gojo to go and check on his progress and make sure everything is alright. Unfortunately, it seems as though all of the higher ups’ numbers have been blocked on his phone,” he said. You snorted but disguised it as a cough, though judging by Principal Gakuganji’s fed-up exhale, you had not exactly been successful.

“Why didn’t you just email him?” you said.

“We thought it would take too long, so we decided to call you. As a first grade sorcerer, you’re the next best option, and we believed your personal relationship with Fushiguro might incline you to be prompt,” he said.

“Personal relationship?” you said, causing Gojo’s jaw to drop in surprise. Digging your school uniform out of your bag, you stomped towards the bathroom so that you could change. Though you were none-too-pleased about it, it remained that Principal Gakuganji was, in a sense, correct: certainly you would not leave Fushiguro in danger without even trying to help.

“He is your underclassman, so naturally there is a friendship that exists between you two that would not be there if we were to call in one of the older Grade 1s. Even Aoi Todo would not have the same fondness. Unless there is something more to it?” His tone ticked up with suspicion at the last question. You gritted your teeth as you bent over to tie your shoes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my dear little junior, so I’ll go make sure everything’s alright, but there’s nothing more to it at all,” you said.

“That’s a relief to hear. And if you can, please let that wastrel know that he’s needed as well,” Principal Gakuganji said.

“You’re so rude to Gojo, for being someone that depends on him so greatly,” you said. “I’ll pass along the message.”

With that, you disconnected the call and strode out of the bathroom, not feeling up to discussing anything more with the aged principal, who was nothing like your own Principal Yaga — now that was what a principal ought to behave like, according to you. To be sure, he was a little eccentric, but after so many years as a sorcerer, who wouldn’t be? At the end of it, though, he did care about his students more than the status quo, which spoke more than enough as to the quality of his character, in your opinion.

“We have to go,” you said, returning to Gojo, who was sitting at the now-clean table, his chin in his hands. “The higher ups want us to check in on Megumi’s mission. Apparently he’s not back yet.”

“Oh, is that all? It’s fine, he’s strong enough to take care of whatever’s going on there,” Gojo said. You gave him an incredulous look and tossed a sugar packet at him. It bounced harmlessly off of his Infinity.

“You’re not even a little worried? He was assigned the mission in the morning and he isn’t back yet, so late at night. I’m going to go whether you come or not, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t make me do it by myself,” you said.

“Go ahead and go,” Gojo said, waving you off. “You’ll be fine. I have to pick something up, since we’re in the area and all, so I’ll catch up with you later. I’m telling you, though, everything is definitely fine! Megumi’s no weakling.”

“I’ll see you later, then,” you said, doubting his flippant attitude just a little bit. How could he be so careless with one of his student’s lives?

Sliding into the backseat of Ijichi’s car, you pondered it as you stared out the window at the blurring scenery. Wasn’t this something like Gojo’s method? He would always put his students into the most absurdly dangerous situations, but never too far out of his sight, never anything you all couldn’t handle if you pushed yourselves.

The thought that you might be interfering in this form of training was outweighed only by the thought of the paycheck you’d receive for something that took relatively minimal effort. Checking in on Megumi was essentially glorified babysitting, except the so-called baby was frighteningly mature and self-sufficient, making it the easiest task ever.

Megumi’s mission was, fittingly enough, in a school. Creeping through the hallways reminded you of the first time you had met Yuta, how he had hidden under that desk, with Rika in the closet and the stars hanging high in the sky. He had come so far since then, hadn’t he? From the boy frightened of himself and his own shadow to the special grade sorcerer proper, the one who had faced even death itself and won.

Unlike that night, however, the hallways in this school were destroyed, rubble and glass littering the tiled floor. You stepped around stray shards, not wanting to cut your feet, and allowed your brow to furrow. There were signs of a genuine struggle here, ones hinting that the scope of the mission had been far beyond Megumi, who was still only a Grade 2 sorcerer.

Clicking your tongue, you leapt out onto the roof, finding your target standing there, his back ramrod straight, his hands curled into fists in front of him. It didn’t look like a defensive posture, but there was a certain desperation to his posture that didn’t seem warranted, considering the total lack of curses in the vicinity.

No, that wasn’t right. That pink-haired boy standing across from him…you could only tell because of how advanced your cursed energy perception was, but there was something strange about him. Something emanated from him, something cruel, dark, malevolent. It was at odds with the gentle expression on his face and the wide eyes he was looking around with.

“Say, Megumi,” you said, placing your hand on his shoulder, as much to alert him of your presence as to stop him from doing anything drastic. “What’s going on here?”

He turned to face you in surprise, blood seeping from a wound on his head and dust covering his cheeks. You let out a laugh and quickly whipped out your phone, taking a picture of him and texting it to Gojo first and the second year group chat next.

“What was that for?” he hissed.

“Sorry, it’s just that Maki and Gojo would be terribly disappointed if I didn’t memorialize your sorry state before healing you,” you said, sending another text to Tullia, warning her to take a couple of shots of bleach or something. She responded in the affirmative, allowing you to put your phone away and place your hands on Megumi’s temples, trying to judge the extent of his injuries. “The wound isn’t terrible. Do you mind?”

“We have bigger issues at the moment,” he said. “Namely, that boy.”

“I’m Yuji Itadori!” the boy in question said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“That wasn’t an opening for you to introduce yourself to her!” Megumi said, exasperated. “I don’t think you understand the magnitude of what you’ve done yet, but you should get on that so that you stop acting so goddamn cheery!”

“It’s nice to meet someone so positive, actually,” you said. “It’s a not a common trait to see in a sorcerer.”

“Oh, I’m not a sorcerer,” Itadori said. You paused and contemplated the development.

“You’re not?” you said.

“He’s not,” Megumi said. You scowled, though it was more out of befuddlement than any real anger that you did so.

“Are you a curse, then? No ordinary person would have as much cursed energy as you do,” you said.

“I ate a curse? I don’t know if that makes me one or not,” Itadori said.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? Is that your technique or something? I haven’t really heard of people that eat curses, but I guess one of my best friends has a technique that’s just ingesting poison, so I can’t really judge,” you said.

“It’s not like that,” Megumi said. “He literally ate a curse. As in, Sukuna’s finger.”

Reflexively, you gagged. “Ew. Don’t be such a boy, Megumi, that’s not a funny joke at all; it’s just gross to think about. I thought you were above such things.”

“He’s not joking,” Itadori said. “I really did eat the finger.”

“Really?” you said.

“Really,” Itadori said solemnly.

“Do you understand the situation now?” Megumi said, pinching the bridge of his nose. You shook your head.

“In truth, I don’t,” you said. “What — in what scenario does there exist a need for one to ingest a rotten, shriveled old finger? Didn’t that taste putrid?”

“A little like soap, actually,” Itadori mused. You gave him a disgusted look. He shrugged. “I don’t know. There was this massive curse about to kill Fushiguro, and because I was just a normal human, I couldn’t do anything to harm it. So I swallowed the finger and gained the cursed energy required to kill the curse! Sukuna manifested and got the job done, and then he started going on and on about all of the evil stuff he wanted to do, so I suppressed him. He’s such a headache, ugh! But that’s the story.”

“You suppressed Sukuna,” you repeated incredulously.

“According to him,” Megumi said suspiciously. “But what if he’s lying? This could be a trick.”

You peered closely at Itadori, who blinked nervously as you inspected him before tapping on his forehead.

“Dissection,” you said. The normal weak spots glowed white on his body, the full proof that he was a person — though, when you unfocused your eyes, you could just make out a hazy green glow that was not really centered on Itadori but somewhere inside of him. His inner domain, or his soul, or some other such related concept; this green, you surmised, was the presence of Sukuna. But if that was the case, then Itadori really wasn’t lying, so you turned to Megumi and nodded in confirmation. “He’s the real deal.”

“You believe me?” Itadori said.

“I believe myself,” you corrected. “For the moment, you are who you say you are. Megumi, I’m going to heal you while we have the chance; if this comes to blows, I’d rather have you on my side.”

“Fine,” he muttered, ducking his head, his cheeks turning pink. “If you could refrain from sending pictures of it to Maki and Gojo, though, I’d appreciate that. They’d never let me live it down.”

“Don’t stress, I won’t do that. Go on, then, get on the ground while that boy is still in control,” you said, watching over Itadori as Megumi lay on the ground. For his part, Itadori just seemed confused about the proceedings. This came as no surprise, though; if he really had been just an ordinary boy until just today, then how would he know anything about Reverse Cursed Techniques and such concepts? “Composition.”

Instead of a knife, it felt like you were being repeatedly punched in the stomach, each successive blow winding you until you felt like doubling over. Your cursed energy remained intact, however; it was Tullia’s that was rushing into you, allowing you to use it at will, the reward you got for taking every ounce of the pain that you were feeling, that Megumi was feeling, that even Tullia herself was feeling.

Coughing, you wiped away the tears that sprang to your eyes and placed your hands on Megumi’s forehead. Focusing Composition on his battered cursed energy reserves and the injuries his head had sustained, you used the positive energy of the cursed energy reversal to heal the wounds and replenish his reserves until he was somewhat close to the state he must have been before engaging in the battle.

“How do you feel?” you said, reaching into your backpack and taking greedy swigs of water from the bottle you had packed just in case. Megumi sat up and glanced at Itadori, who was watching you in awe.

“Fine. Hey, what are you staring at?” he said.

“Woah! Miss, did you just heal him or something?” Itadori said, ignoring Megumi completely.

“Yes, I did. It’s part of my inherited technique, though I assume those words would be on the whole meaningless to you,” you said.

“They are, but it’s still so cool to hear about! I can’t believe there’s like this entire secret world that’s existed and I knew nothing about until now,” Itadori said.

“We do a very good job at hiding our work from normal people. It helps that most can’t see curses,” you said. “Enough talking, though. We have to figure out what to do with you. You said you suppressed Sukuna? Do you think you could un-suppress him?”

“Why would you want that?” Megumi said.

“Gojo’s on his way,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s the perfect chance to see if he has potential as a vessel or if he should just be killed immediately.”

“Do you really think Gojo of all people should be trusted to arrive on time for anything?” Megumi said.

“It’ll be alright. Don’t underestimate me; I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer, aren’t I? He’s only had the one finger, so even once he manifests as Sukuna, it’ll be in a severely weakened form. I promise, even I can deal with him when he’s in such a state,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Megumi said.

“If I’m wrong, then I’ll have you to help me hold him off, at least until Gojo arrives,” you said. “You probably couldn’t do it by yourself, but if the two of us are working together, then we can probably manage at least that much.”

“If you say so,” Megumi said.

“Itadori, please let Sukuna out for a little bit. I’d like to talk to him,” you said.

“Are you guys personally acquainted or something?” Itadori said. “Sure, I can do that, but are you really certain you want to talk to him? He’s not exactly the greatest guy.”

“Hm,” you said, thinking back to a certain story and chuckling under your breath. “I guess you could say that. Don’t worry, it’ll be a quick conversation. Ten seconds is all I need; after that, I want you to take control back, alright? Or else Megumi and I will have to kill you, I’m afraid.”

“Okay!” Itadori said. “Wait, by the way — what’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you said as he closed his eyes before dark markings made of undulating cursed energy crept over his face. “Y/N L/N.”

Eyes as red as pomegranates flew open, staring at you in horror. They were narrower than Itadori’s, and indeed the entire bone structure of his face had changed ever so slightly, matured a little bit, his nose sharper, his chin squarer. Underneath his eyes were two more with the same crimson irises, though these were smaller and seemed less focused on you. There was no doubt about it: this was the King of Curses himself, the one for whom the stories and the songs were written.

He took a step towards you, but you stood your ground, reaching into the small pouch you always carried and grasping a silver needle in between your thumb and index finger.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, his voice deeper than Itadori’s, gravelly and rough instead of warm and bright.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you said. “The King of Curses.”

“And the woman who sealed him,” he spat. His canines were sharper than any normal human’s had the right to be, his nails more like claws than anything. You looked over at Megumi, who could no more move than a mouse faced with the jaws of a tiger could. “I would kill you if I could.”

“Nothing is stopping you,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, though you knew it trembled. Even if it was only a shadow of Sukuna’s true self, it remained that the being in front of you was known as the King of Curses for a reason. In terms of curses, just this small fragment could only be beaten in power by Rika herself.

“You would say that,” he said, and then suddenly he was in front of you, those fingers like talons wrapping around your throat, squeezing to the point of discomfort but nothing more. “You would say that, you witch. How fortunate am I! To be born again into this new body, this new world…and yet, I cannot escape you. Y/N L/N. What is this coincidence, that I must find you again, that I must manifest in the same place that you are?”

“I am not the woman who you think I am,” you gasped out, not wanting to fight the body which ultimately was Itadori’s. Not yet, anyways, not while he was still not actively hurting you, only threatening to do so.

“Yet you share her name, and there is some similarity to your features,” he said.

“She was my ancestor. The one who helped seal you. The one you killed — but her husband brought her back to life in the end, so it amounted to nothing,” you said. Maybe taunting Sukuna wasn’t your smartest idea, but you wanted him to know. You wanted him to know that he had been unsuccessful in this one thing, that the original Y/N L/N had lived beyond sealing him.

“You share her blood,” Sukuna said. “It is close enough. In fact, likely it is exactly the same thing; I cannot risk it. That means, no matter how much I want to, I cannot risk your death in the first place.”

Suddenly, abruptly, he threw you away from him, watching with some satisfaction as you barely managed to break your fall and spring to your feet. It was an odd stare which he trained upon you, equal parts concern and pleasure, like he had not wanted you to get hurt but at the same time could conceive no greater joy than the thought of harm coming to you. You could not understand it. You could not understand any of it.

“It’s been ten seconds, Itadori,” you called out carefully, cautiously, still not sure why Sukuna insisted that you could not die but not wanting to test your limits, either, in case that was the breaking point which led to him changing his mind and going after you anyways. Or, worse, he might decide to turn his attention to Megumi, who he presumably held no convictions about as of yet, and that was something you were keen to avoid, since Gojo still hadn’t shown up.

“Oops, sorry, I lost track of time!” The markings and extra eyes had vanished, and the youthfulness had returned as Itadori regained control of his body. He sounded like himself again, all eager and affectionate. “Did your conversation go well?”

“I’m left with more questions than answers, to be fully honest with you,” you admitted. “But nobody got hurt, and you managed to take back control when you needed to, so it’s a net positive. Now we have some solid proof to take to Gojo in the defense of your control as a vessel.”

“Yay!” Itadori said. “But, um, who’s Gojo?”

“That would be me,” a new voice said. The three of you turned as one unit to stare at the newcomer, who was as late as usual and toted two shopping bags, most likely full of souvenirs from wherever he had gone while you were helping Megumi.

“Gojo,” you said. “It’s about time you got here.”

“About time, indeed! What’s all of this talk about vessels and whatnot?” he said.

“That boy is Sukuna’s vessel,” you said.

“I ate a finger,” Itadori supplied helpfully.

“On Megumi’s watch, not mine,” you added. “I’d certainly never let something like that happen. I did confirm that he has control as a vessel, though, with the ability to suppress Sukuna at will.”

“Wait, slow down. So he ate Sukuna’s finger and became his vessel?” Gojo confirmed.

“He did,” you said.

“It’s true,” Megumi said. “I saw it happen. The most idiotic thing I’ve seen in a while.”

“I don’t know, I mean you do see Gojo on the daily, so can you really consider it to be the most idiotic thing?” you said, earning an offended gasp from Gojo and a look from Megumi. “Anyways, I used my signature detection on him, as well as Dissection. He’s the genuine article.”

“But you said he has control?” Gojo said. You nodded.

“Yes, I asked him to let Sukuna out for a total of ten seconds. After that time was up, he managed to regain control without too much of a problem,” you said. Gojo grew even paler than he usually was, which was saying something, as he already had the complexion of a pearl.

“Are you hurt?” he said.

“No, we just talked for that time,” you said, subconsciously rubbing at your neck, which still felt a little odd after Sukuna had grasped it so tightly. “Nothing more.”

“That’s a lie,” Megumi interjected. “He choked her at one point and threw her on the ground afterwards.”

“You shouldn’t have done such an experiment, knowing the dangers,” Gojo said. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Yes, positive. He’s being dramatic, anyways; I could’ve handled it, but I chose not to,” you said. Gojo glanced at Megumi for confirmation, but to your relief, Megumi nodded reluctantly.

“She wasn’t exactly overpowered,” he admitted. “It was more like she was letting it happen.”

“Why’d you let yourself get treated like that, then?” Gojo said. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re into—”

“Shut up!” you said. “No!”

“It’s as fair a guess as any!” he defended.

“No, it is not! I didn’t want to hurt Itadori’s body unless it was absolutely necessary, and to be quite honest with you, I was interested in what Sukuna was saying. You see, he kept talking about how he wanted to kill me but couldn’t. Wouldn’t you be interested if the King of Curses said he couldn’t kill you?” you said.

“Not exactly! If I were you, I’d thank whatever deity intervened on my part and run very far away!” he said. “Now, of course, if it were me, I’d not be surprised. It’s likely he couldn’t kill me, so it wouldn’t be new information.”

“What’s done is done,” you said, deciding there was no point in letting the argument progress any further. “We have to decide what to do with Itadori, and then Megumi and I should probably check in with Ieri. I healed him earlier, but I don’t know if it was enough or not.”

“Good idea. Well, there’s not much deciding that needs to happen; he’ll be executed, that’s all. It’s sad, but that’s how these things go,” Gojo said.

“Wait,” Megumi said as Gojo used an incredibly weakened version of his technique to knock Itadori out in an instant, slinging him over his shoulder and preparing a portal to teleport to jujutsu headquarters. “Can you…can you please save him?”

“It’s strange to have you ask for something from me,” Gojo said. “You think I should save him?”

“Yes,” Megumi said. “Please. He’s the kind of person that deserves to be saved.”

“Do you really think so? Even knowing that he’s Sukuna’s vessel?” Gojo said. You knew him well enough by now to pick up on the fact that he did not doubt Megumi’s words but was rather testing his conviction.

Megumi was silent, casting about for something to say, so you took pity on him and decided to jump in. Besides, it was true that you didn’t want to see Itadori die just yet, either, though your explanation was a little different than Megumi’s was.

“He reminds me of Yuta,” you said. “Not in personality but in circumstance. If there’s a way for you to give him a chance the way you gave Yuta one, I think it could be worthwhile. How often will we meet another person capable of being Sukuna’s vessel? We could use him for our own ends. A mutually beneficial deal, as the case may be.”

“You’re so sentimental,” Gojo cooed. “Did it bring back fond memories for you, being at a high school and going on a dangerous mission like this?”

“It did,” you said shortly. “Not that that’s any of your business, by the way, so stay focused on the task at hand. I hate how involved you are in my personal life!”

“It’s my job!” Gojo whined.

“It distinctly is not!” you said. “Regardless, that’s my opinion on the matter. You may make of it what you will. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t really impact my life all too much if you save him or not, so do what you’d like.”

“My student wants me to save him,” Gojo said, giving Megumi one of those serious looks of his that meant he was being one hundred percent genuine in what he was saying. Megumi shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I’ll do my best to that end. Y/N, if you could ensure that Megumi gets back to the school, I’ll bring you with me to Africa the next time I go to check on Yuta’s progress.”

“I’m on it,” you said. You would’ve done it anyways, of course, but the thought of seeing Yuta again gladdened you greatly, so you weren’t about to turn Gojo’s offer down. Even though you talked to Yuta on the phone as much as you could, you wanted to be with him in person, wanted to feel his arms around your body and his lips against your own, even if it was only for a little bit. That little bit would be enough to tide you over until he came back for good. “Let’s go, Megumi.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to save Itadori?” Megumi said as Ijichi drove off in the direction of Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

“He said he’ll try his best. Coming from Gojo, that’s basically a guarantee that he will,” you said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If I ask you a personal question, Y/N, would you answer it?” Megumi said. You shifted in your seat so that you were facing him, but he did not do the same, focusing on the moon and how it shimmered through the tinted glass of the car window.

“I used to pretend like the moon was following me so that it could watch over me,” you said.

“That’s not how it works,” Megumi said. “Scientifically.”

“Of course, I learnt that later on, but to a romantic child, it meant all the world that there was that one entity which cared enough to chase after me, no matter where I went,” you said.

“I see,” Megumi said.

“You may ask your question,” you said. “If it offends me, I’ll choose not to answer. That is all. I won’t be angry or anything.”

“You’re the youngest Grade 1 sorcerer in quite some time,” he said. “Was it worth it?”

“That’s heavy,” you said.

“The difference between us is like a chasm. Even though it’s only one level — two if you count Semi-Grade 1 as its own separate thing — you can claim to defeat Sukuna’s manifestation and not sound utterly ridiculous. You made it sound plausible. I could not even manage to fight against the curses that that finger attracted,” he said.

“You’re younger than me, so it’s not some great weakness to be down about,” you said.

“That’s a separate matter. What I really want to know is what it’s like? Being someone so powerful that when they needed a sorcerer to go in Gojo’s place, the higher ups thought of you,” he said.

“Power,” you said. “I don’t think that’s something I can ever lay claim to. Not truly. I know what you must be thinking — I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer, the one that everyone in jujutsu society seems to be talking about at the moment, so naturally I must be powerful. But it’s not like that. I’m no more powerful than you are, Megumi; in fact, I’m likely your inferior in that department by several degrees. I could never go up against the truly strong and win: people like Gojo, Yuta, even Hakari and Todo, all of them would beat me in a fair fight.”

“So then?” Megumi said. “I know you’ve beaten Todo before, so you’re not telling the full story.”

“So I never fight fair. I use people’s weaknesses against them. I strike from the shadows at the places which shine like beacons to me, and people think of me as some great hero for it. Can I really be considered as such, though? I’d like to answer your question, but I can’t. I don’t know what it’s like to be powerful. I don’t know if all of this was worth it,” you said. He was silent for so long that you nearly thought he had fallen asleep, but finally, he deigned to speak once more.

“What should I do?” he said. “Now that I’ve made such a request and asked Gojo to save that boy. What should I do?”

“You do the only thing any of us can do. You keep trying to grow stronger. You hope that in the end, you don’t regret any of it. Might I offer some entirely unsolicited advice?” you said.

“Sure,” he said. He was oddly vulnerable, in this light. You did not think that Megumi would open up to you like this in normal circumstances, but the trauma of the day’s events had probably worn down whatever defenses he might ordinarily have. Besides, it was generally difficult for someone to keep secrets or be stoic around the person who had healed them — it was a phenomenon that you had noticed, that the patients of your family could not help but bare their deepest secrets to them. Who better to do such a thing to than the person who already knew your entire body and soul so intimately, who had risked their own just to save yours?

“Your decision to save Itadori may not go the way you want it to,” you said. “There’s a reason he would ordinarily be executed, after all. I threw my support behind you because I felt pity, for you and for him, but in the end it was your request that did it, not mine. I think you are aware of this, but are you prepared for what that might entail?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Did I make a mistake?” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “You did. But don’t live like that.”

“Huh?” he said. You thought about Yuta, about the many mistakes you had made and he had made, about how many times the two of you had risked everything for one another.

Bringing him back was the one accomplishment you were proud of. It was the one thing you guarded fiercely as your own achievement, one unsullied by self-doubt. You had not let Yuta Okkotsu die. For better or for worse, you had not let him die. It was the one of the things you guarded deep and close to your heart, that you had saved him. Whatever came of it, you would not, could not, feel apologetic for doing that.

“You chose not to let him die,” you said, and then you twisted in your seat again, so that you, too, could stare out at the moon. Even now, it followed you, as it had when you were a child, and you smiled, resting your finger against its reflection. “That was your decision. No matter what the consequences are, you must always, always hold your head high and be proud of it. Don’t you ever dare let anyone tell you otherwise.”

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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