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lxmelle · 4 months ago

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Sukuna’s Choice.

I was truly struck by his stubborn resolve. He really stuck to his guns.

He was adamant he did not and could not live another way - as if anything different than what he had achieved would make him “weak”… maybe he did not know how to, or he had just decided so.

We see that he hated the idea that he was given compassion by Yuji - seeing it as pity from him.

Yuji saw him for what he was - as someone who had opportunity after opportunity to find deeper meaning but cast it away; as someone, who was desperate enough to turn himself into objects - for no other purpose than to prolong a hedonistic existence that sought momentary self-satisfaction for himself, alone.

He saw him as a curse to be given a chance… that maybe nobody ever had before - a chance without any conditions aside from being willing to accept his offer.

And it was pity in the end for Sukuna for rejecting salvation and anything to do with humanity. Even when he was shown so much. Given chances to experience it through the eyes of both Megumi and Yuji.

At the point of death, when given the choice to live with Yuji after his defeat, he preferred to die.

This was aligned with his unchanged view that: loss was no different to death. This was in his conversation with Yorozu.

His resilience only went as far as jujutsu. If he wasn’t the strongest, there was no reason for his life or existence. He boxed himself in. As if fearing what he might discover about his worth & identity beyond the Title.

Some people on X expressed their desire to understand him, asking aloud, was he afraid of death?

I honestly don’t know. My instincts doubt it was fear, but maybe there was a subconscious fear of vulnerability that comes with connection, so I think he didn’t see the value in loving or being loved. As if he accepted that he was just alone in this dog-eat-dog world. Disregarded value in connecting with anyone in any other way aside from jujutsu.

Like those who accepted the “monster” in them, none of them thought anyone will care about their bodies after death (think: Geto who didn’t think his family could care “run away if the mission fails”, Gojo who said who cares about one’s corpse, yet said “I want to mourn Suguru’s body”, Toji who wilfully forgets his children but tells Gojo about Megumi in his dying breath: “do what you want” and kill’s himself when his body information is resurrected, and Yuta who didn’t want Gojo to alone be the monster and volunteers himself: “I’ll do it!” singularly ignoring his friends’ concern for him) — Sukuna didn’t think anyone would mourn him. He left no afterthought for Uraume. Who killed themselves after he died. He didn’t want to care. He was prepared to let Yorozu have all of him if he lost which he equated to death.

Because if you consider (and accept) yourself as important to others, you realise your worth and value too. You may want to live again. Recreate purpose. Find new meaning. New beginnings. Like Megumi did...

Sukuna did not (could not?) even want to entertain the idea of living another way. He’d rather die than open his heart to humanity or compassion.

Funnily enough he was strangely “kind” in his own way. He was so objective in his monstrosity that he saw no nuance. He praised others based on jujutsu alone and how they entertained him. He had the capacity to be “human” but complete rejected it. Rejected any outer purpose...

He did not want to have any reason to live if it wasn’t to prove his strength. He did not want to compromise his own version of personal integrity. Instead of enjoying the taste and texture of human life through emotions and relationships - he ate people and enjoyed that! The absolute monster he chose to become in wielding his strength.

We saw Gege write about so many others, not only limited to the main characters… others like Kamo, Maki, Kusakabe, Higuruma, Choso, Yuta, etc. about meaning, purpose, humanity, sacrifice, & love. How they all tie together. How we change as we let others touch our hearts. How being vulnerable truly connects us.

I’ve written before about how it wasn’t for Gojo to teach Sukuna about love, although he played a big part in what was overall conveyed to him… Love that existed between everyone who identified as human, who fought for their own and collective reasons, against Sukuna. We got to bear witness - see and experience - the myriad of thoughts, emotions and reasons behind so many of their unique stories... it sang about meaning and purpose in sacrifice as well as determination.

What an ode to humanity in the face of a desperate situation.

Because if we think about it, the opposite of antidote of Monstrosity is Humanity. Being willing to love another besides yourself = accepting/wanting belonging, embracing the responsibility of being accountable to someone out of/for their love… all these include a willingness to be vulnerable.

Something Sukuna would never accept.

Sukuna was afraid to be vulnerable. If it wasn’t fear, then he actively rejected it. I suspect it was because he saw it as being weak.

Maybe he never knew love; but through what he lived & learned back in the Heian times up until now, saw its power to transform even a monster who aspired to be like him, so he deemed it worthless. Him and Uraume talked about humanity being the thing that prevented them from reaching their potential, after all.

Why should he change if he was already so strong? What was the purpose of connecting to any other being when he was at the top of the food chain? There was no need to give himself a “weakness” through caring for another.

His survival was the singular proof of his perceived worth.

And that seems like what he clung onto. Instead, he ate the actual humans as if they were flavours, because that was the ultimate rejection of humanity - to consume people as if they were food. To toy with them as if they were passing dishes until the next meal came along.

That’s just my interpretation... My understanding is that he chose death rather than accept the vulnerability that comes with love. Not for Uraume or from Yuji. His heart was solidly, fearfully, shut.

He only recognised skill & praised others for it. His chosen singular flavour.

Many of us thought there could be redemption for Sukuna. I guess it remains to be seen if Sukuna did actually choose to evaporate & die, but assuming he did opt to die, he really didn’t want to face another alternative. Choosing to remain on his path and die as the “Strongest”. I had thought that he’d see humanity from living within Yuji & Megumi - and he did, especially within Yuji’s domain expansion. He saw it and rejected it completely. What he disliked about Yuji & said to him at the end reminds me of what Jung said: we can learn about ourselves through what irritates us.

He praised Yuji for being a fool... but maybe Sukuna was the fool himself.

He played a role all the way through too.

He was the unwavering curse in the face of love / acceptance.

Jujutsu Kaisen is truly story about curses and love. Like two halves of one thing. The many ways a person can live their lives, and how it can make sense/is justifiable to them.

Who was he if he wasn’t revered or feared as the Strongest?

So… He stayed true to himself. He likened himself to a curse in the end. Love, once again, prevails.

Ah, I look forward to having a few reads of the whole series again when it is finished...

…but I’ll honestly be so very sad when it ends.

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inoreuct · 1 year ago

Note

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it—

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.