Chapter Text
Yuji has never been easily shocked.
When told by his doctor that he’d never have a Quirk like all the other kids in his grade, he had been more interested in the complementary lollipops. When a burning building crashed down four inches from his seven-year-old face, he played with his shoelaces. When Fushiguro appeared like a phantom at his grandfather’s hospital and straight-facedly explained to him that invisible curses exist and he belonged to an undercover organization dedicated to erasing them, he didn’t bat a damn eyelash.
Even the constant scratching and banging of a second soul effectively imprisoned in his body slamming against his soul couldn’t wake him from an evening nap.
But this– a frown and a pinched brow mars his typically relaxed face as he stares up at the expensive monstrosity of a school building that seemed dedicated to being the complete opposite of everything he’d gotten used to at Jujutsu Tech– this is a little ridiculous.
Even for him.
“U.A?” Nose turned up, Kugisaki regarded Yuji as if he had just crawled out from underneath the bed covered in ectoplasm when he first mentioned the subject to his friends. “Why would they send you? If a covert operation is what they’re going for, someone like Maki or Fushiguro would be better. Even Inumaki is more subtle– Or better yet, one of those punks from Kyoto. They practically ooze mediocrity, so it’d be perfect.”
Relatively impassive, or at least, very committed to hiding whatever he felt on the subject, Fushiguro crouched down, watching a black can fall to the bottom of the machine to fish it out from the compartment. “U.A is in Shizuoka, if I recall. That’s part of our jurisdiction. I do agree that Itadori is a poor choice of personnel, though.”
“Um??”
Ignoring his offended noise, Fushiguro handed him the can. “Have you talked to Gojo about it yet?” Fushiguro is the only person in the group who refers to Gojo without any form of honorific, Yuji notices, looking back on it– despite being the sorcerer Yuji has known the longest and liked the most, he knows little about him.
Blissfully unaware, he took the gift, the cool weight of his favorite drink settling uncomfortably in his hands. I always do that. Fushiguro pays enough attention to him to realize what his favorite drink is, yet he hadn’t even noticed the boy’s unusual naming convention for their teacher until just now.
“You think if I ask, he’ll let me skip out on it?” He’d said, running his finger over the surface of the can. He couldn’t, still can’t, deny the allure of a covert mission in an exciting, new environment— but there was no humming in his brain begging him to say yes, no uncontrollable dumb smile, excited shivering.
No doubt about it. He didn’t want to go. Not just yet. A snarky, fanged mouth whispered in his ear then to let him know he was being selfish, clingy, and pathetic. Like always, he ignored it.
Kugisaki’s brow pinched in response. “What’s the matter with you, Itadori? You’re normally more gung-ho.” She took a drink from Fushiguro as well. Yuji remembers this moment specifically because unlike him, she didn’t bid Fushiguro a grateful nod and an appreciative smile as a thank you, but it hadn’t really seemed like it bothered him.
Probably because he doesn’t do things for a thank you, Yuji thought. Way more heroic than any of those caped weirdos—
Or because he’s a doormat, a thought that didn’t belong to him interrupted him. Stroking his own ego with meaningless expressions of kindness.
“Will you shut up already?” He accidentally spoke aloud, turning his eyes to the imaginary direction of the voice. There was no one there to catch the heat of his glare, which made him feel as crazy as ever, but he didn’t care as long as he got some peace from the ever-antagonistic voice in his head.
Kugisaki scoffed, stepping forward with her fingers curled into a tight fist. “Uh, excuse you!?”
“I was talking to Sukuna,” Yuji gave her a look of mock disappointment. “Jeez, Kugisaki. Not everything’s about you.”
Kugisaki’s eye twitched, hand automatically reaching for her squeaky hammer, but it was Fushiguro who spoke next. For once, his tone hadn’t been completely blank, this time laced with the slightest hints of concern.
“I thought you said that Sukuna hasn’t talked to you since the Detention Center.” He pointed out.
Yuji remembers dramatically thanking all the gods and spirits to have been born blessed with the powers of being unphased in his head as he played off being caught in his little white lie with a playful shrug and sticking out his tongue, as if he’d just been caught by a stern parent after playing a practical joke.
“Oh, my God, he’s messing with us.” Kugisaki pointed at him in outrage, looking at Fushiguro as if expecting him to send Yuji to the corner or something.
Yuji jokingly cupped his ear, as if receiving a message. “What’s that, Sukuna? Awe, that’s so nice! Kugisaki, Sukuna says your hair looks expensive– like something you’d find on the inside of a winter coat!”
Fushiguro, who finally purchased himself a green tea, watched impassively as Kugisaki chased Yuji around the public street, waving around a brightly colored rubber mallet. Just like that, the unrest that followed Sukuna’s name like a clingy dog dissipated and peace was restored.
“I’M GONNA BUST YOUR SKULL OPEN, YUJI ITADORI!”
“Oh, no! Whack-a-mole! I’m sooooo scared!”
Relatively.
Yuji already misses Kugisaki’s boisterous energies that matched his own that was perfect for whenever he wanted to go sightseeing or find adventure and Fushiguro’s impassive, cool gaze that brought with it, at least for Yuji, a quiet sense of security to know that someone was paying attention and looking out for him.
Someone is always cautious.
The bright eyes and excited smiles of the hundred-something applying students, relaxed as if nothing in the world had ever happened to anyone ever, makes Yuji feel anxious. Not a single one of them is crazy, he bets— if something were to burst out of the ground right this very moment, he can only rely on himself. He feels slightly sick, wishing the Higher-Ups were here so that he can vomit on them for doing this to him.
Why do I have to do this alone?
A shoulder slams into his, disturbing him from his thoughts and a boy with ashy blond hair and an objectively good-looking face made absolutely hideous by a hateful expression that seemed to be searching for something to be angry at turns his head to sneer at him, teeth bared.
“If you’re here to mess around, pack your things and go home, normie,” he says, speaking with the entitlement of a king and the common sense of the court jester. “I don’t need any idiots bumming up the pathway to my school.”
Normie? Who says that? And why’s he acting like he owns the walkway? Yuji gasps in realization, brightening up like a lightbulb. He must be another insane person! It’s not just me!
He internally cheers. “Hey, are you aiming for the Hero Course?”
The blonde regards him with a judgmental stare and a matching scowl, clicking his tongue hard against his teeth. “‘Course I am, dumbass. I look like some tired pencil-pusher to you?”
“Oh, awesome!” Yuji smiles good-naturedly; the boy reminds him starkly of Kugisaki, which makes him instantly likable in Yuji’s eyes. “Then maybe I’ll see you there! I’m Yuji Itadori, by the way.”
“Didn’t ask.” The cocky stranger curtly turns on his heel, walking away with his hands shoved into his pockets.
Yuji barely notices. They’re walking in the same direction, after all. “What’s your name, then?”
“None of your business.”
“Dude,” Yuji laughs, lips quirked upwards into a teasing grin. “I will refer to you as ‘None Of Your Business’ every time I talk to you. I can tell just by looking at you that we’re both getting into this school, so you might as well cave now!”
‘None Of Your Business’ scoffs before flashing him a broad smile, which makes him a lot less strenuous to look at. “You’ll find out my name,” he says. “When it’s number one across all the charts.”
A hero student may have been offended by the bold, snotty statement, but Yuji, planning to get out of this place as soon as possible, only returns the wide grin.
“I guess you’d better kick ass, then!”
“Like hell I won’t!”
As Yuji makes an acquaintance out of a fellow bloodthirsty lunatic, he notices a plain-looking boy with freckles and the all the stature and presence of an anorexic mouse shaking like a leaf, looking at the interaction as if he’d just seen something impossible unfold.
Yuji is reminded why he has never thought much of heroes as one of them does the announcements explaining the rules of the exam, but he shakes the judgmental thoughts from his head.
What a complete fucking moron.
Well, he shakes his own judgmental thoughts from his head.
The ‘costumed buffoon’, as Sukuna affectionately names him, is called Present Mic if Yuji’s recalls correctly (Well, actually, he hadn’t. He’d been entirely convinced the man’s name was ‘Mickey Mouse Presents’ until hearing the same bushy-haired freckled kid’s insane ramblings that suggested the contrary) and is… certainly a loud presence, somewhat resembling a manic canary Saran-wrapped in black buckles and leather.
Yuji is unsure what people have ever been saved by him nor how he did it, especially if he’s juggling the job with being a teacher, but hides his lack of enthusiasm, hopefully managing to look just as excited as everyone else.
The exam’s rules, if there are any, are straightforward, like an arcade game. Yuji himself is more interested in peering over his seatmate’s shoulder to catch sight of the name written on his examinee card.
“Aha! So your name is Bakugjhhffhfh–” Bakugou shoves his elbow into Yuji’s face to shut him up as a tall, bespectacled boy with rigidly perfect posture to the point of robotic movement shoots up like a bamboo sprout to ask a question.
“There appear to be no less than four varieties of faux villains on this handout!” He practically announces, loud enough to be heard by the Hero standing on the stage even without a microphone. “Such a blatant error, if it is one, is highly unbecoming of U.A, Japan’s top academy! We’re all here today in the hopes of being modeled into top Heroes!!”
“And you, with the curly hair!” Just when Yuji thinks he’s done, the boy whips around, jabbing an accusing finger in the freckled boy’s direction, narrowing his eyes at him as if he just crawled out of a dumpster. “You’ve been muttering this entire time— it’s distracting! If this is some sort of game to you, then please leave immediately!”
Something about the way the curly-haired boy wilts like a dandelion that just doused in weed killer makes Yuji’s smile falter. He didn’t need to call him out like that, did he?
Against his better judgment, he clears his throat, trying his best to enunciate the way the boy in the glasses had. “I have something to say, too!” He points at the blue-haired boy, who looks at him in what can only be described as utter disgust, pointing.
“You’re ugly.”
It’s silent.
“Thank you.” Yuji bows solemnly and sits down. Surely now he knows what it’s like to be called out and embarrassed like that.
After a hot second, Present Mic stifles a snicker into his hand, followed by numerous students, before most people are fighting laughter.
Yuji flashes the curly-haired weirdo a beaming smile that says; I got your back, bro!, holding his thumb up for good measure.
The curly haired boy gives him a look of pure incredulity, as does the boy in glasses, who looks utterly scandalized and opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Present Mic, who attempts to calm down the crowd by waving his hands.
“Alright, alright,” he says, obviously trying not to laugh in the middle of his sentence. “Good catch, examinee 7111. Thanks! But the fourth variety of faux villain gets you zero points! Zilch, nada. It’s more of an obstacle. Have you ever played Super Mario Brothers? That old, retro game! It’s kind of like a Thwomp!”
Yuji smiles. Finally an analogy he can understand. So you’re just supposed to avoid it, got it, Yuji is somewhat unnerved by the amount of massive, destructive, extremely-possessable robots that U.A paid to keep around. With this place’s insane amounts of cursed residue, it’s actually impressive no one’s died…
Though, according to his Mission Detail, it isn’t just curses that are at work here.
Yuji internally groans at the thought. Why did he feel the need to defend that kid? He should definitely be keeping a low profile. In the back of his mind, he hears a scoff.
Idiot.
Yuji huffs, mood thoroughly soured. Shut up, Sukuna.
Present Mic leaves the audience to go about their business with a quote from Napoleon Bonaparte and U.A’s school motto: Plus Ultra.
Yuji smiles and claps, having not a single fucking clue what that meant.
“What test site are you in?” He asks Bakugou, who huffs through his nose as they clear the stands. Yuji swears he saw smoke.
“D,” he responds. “Too bad. I was looking forward to bashing Deku’s stupid face in.”
“Aw, man, I’m in C,” Yuji complains, smoothly ignoring Bakugou’s declaration. He has people he wants to see writhe in agony, too, after all— no shame there. “Who’s Deku, anyway? That’s a weird name.”
Bakugou’s nose wrinkles at the mere thought of this mysterious person. “Useless normie who likes to get in my way, s’all.”
“Wow, this Deku guy sounds like a real punk,” Yuji nods in understanding before holding out his arm and placing a hand on his bicep. “Don’t worry, man, If I see him, I’ll give him a good punch for ya.”
Bakugou thanks him with a derisive snort. “Make it two. Can’t have anyone identifying the body.”
“Won’t have too if they can’t find it!” Yuji chirps in reply, and Bakugou barks a laugh in response. Once again, the freckled boy regards him with a look like his entire world just got flipped upside down. Yuji cheerfully decides to ignore it.
It’s nice to make friends.
The exam grounds are huge— obnoxiously huge, even, built in a bizarre imitation of a large, dense concrete jungle that must have cost a lot of money that could have been used furthering cancer research or something.
Interestingly, he’s allotted to the same testing site as the glasses kid from before, which he wouldn’t have noticed had he not boldly began stomping towards him, only to be interrupted by the other examinee’s murmurings.
“Hey, it’s the ugly kid from before!”
“Look at his hideous blue side part. It’s so ugly and distracting.”
“Why do his calves look like if you fried them, you could serve them as chicken thighs at KFC and no one would be able to tell the difference…”
The boy falters, shuddering in place, and Yuji feels bad for a moment, until he hears the curly-haired boy receive similar treatment, looking down on him as if he’s hardly competition. And doing so loudly as well.
Aren’t these kids supposed to be aspiring Heroes? Yuji frowns. Why are they so mean?
You just stood up alone in the aisle and called somebody ugly a few minutes ago.
Yuji will give him that. I’ll apologize later.
When the blonde Hero from before announces the beginning of the test, Yuji is the only one who reacts immediately, bolting forward, much to the surprise of the other examinees— he finds not much reason to use any cursed energy, which he’d been advised against, anyway.
“Whatever you do, do not risk detection unless it is absolutely necessary,” Nanamin had told him, expression hard. “This isn’t a game, Itadori.”
Yuji, usually comically tone-deaf to the mood, found that he understood exactly what Nanamin was trying to say back then.
This is dangerous. Don’t get sloppy.
His fist, bare of supernatural inflection, slams into a robot’s head, sending it crash-landing into the ground and scarring the concrete with a tremble. He inspects the, for lack of a nicer term, mutilated animatronic, throwing his arms into a comfortable stretch. “That’s one.”
He only counts to eight before he stops. If they don’t admit him after seeing him pull off a one-pointer’s head with a thigh lock and immediately flipping back to projectile launch it at a two-pointer, it’s honestly their loss. Yuji isn’t normally so cocky, but If there’s anything that he’s unrivaled at, it’s destroying things.
Though, I probably shouldn’t score too high, he thinks as he lands with a fun little spin from jumping off a five story building, grabbing onto a lamppost to pull himself into something less like a spin and more like a twister that lets him back both heels into the chest of a one-pointer. Nanamin said I shouldn’t stand out too much.
Graciously deciding he’s done enough, he kicks the mangled robot corpse into a two-pointer that had been running at him as he rests his head in his hands, deciding to let the other kids rack up the rest. If he does that, he’s bound to get a more average-seeming score, right?
His leisurely stroll, complemented by the weird looks he gets from others, is nigh immediately interrupted by the kaiju-sized behemoth zero-pointer that looms over the cityscape like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man stomping through New York City in Ghostbusters.
It isn’t very close to Yuji, he doesn’t think, at least not close enough to notice and attempt to attack him, so he stands by, pleasantly watching its reign of destruction, using a dismantled two-pointer as a seat. Even Sukuna is quiet, perhaps (mildly) entertained by the chaos.
A slam.
With a desperate cry and the sound of a fist slamming stupidly and formlessly into metal, the once tall zero-pointer practically caves in on itself, crumpling the same way Yuji’s soda cans would always look when he held them too hard.
It’s not Soda, brat, it’s Pop.
Dude.
It’s somewhat comforting to see that there are some kids here with the guts to take on a giant like that. Maybe Heroes are more crazy than he gives them credit for.
But not crazy enough.
A familiar shudder crawls down Yuji’s spine, spurring him from his relaxed daze– sickening as ever, reeking of stress, fear, self-pity and all the world’s ugliness concentrated into a single tumorous existence.
Cursed energy. A lot of it. Already? Yuji literally just got here.
Luckily, it isn’t one of the Curse Users he’s meant to be looking for emitting this nauseating feeling, but a regular old curse; unluckily, he arrives to the scene just a bit too late as the curse slinks up into the comfort of a physical vessel, and the zero-pointer’s gears start grinding and pressing grossly against each one other, forcing the robot to rice to its feet despite clearly being broken.
“H-How?” He hears someone mumble– the curly-haired boy from before, his forearm red, broken and mangled, tries to crawl forward, but naturally fails to realize the truly insidious nature of what was going on. “I-I haven’t gotten any points yet, I need–”
He’s interrupted by Yuji stepping in front of his face. “Wow, you really did a number on this thing,” he comments, holding his hand over his eyes to inspect the gimmick closer. “I was worried for a second, but this’ll actually be easy!”
No points, he said? How weird. If he’s strong enough to destroy this thing, why does he act like a scared deer? Is his stress over that what’s making this curse act up?
The curly-haired boy’s eyes furrow, and then practically fly off his face as Yuji runs forward, using crumpled debris as a stepping stone to jump straight overhead the zero-pointer.
If I’m careful, he thinks as the stupid creature is immediately drawn to his heightened levels of cursed energy, thrusting out a robotic hand to grab at him. I should only need to use a little cursed energy.
Reaching for Yuji is the worst idea the curse probably ever had.
He slides down the gimmick’s smooth arm, running straight for the caved-in face. Gripping onto one of the cracks for balance, he reels his arm back and punctures a wide hole in the metal with his knuckles, feeling around for the tiny curse.
It squeals when his fingers find and wrap around it, and Yuji is able to smile despite the fact that it bites his hand and has skin with the texture of the food you have to clean out of the drain after washing the dishes.
He rips it out, hazy red flashes of ripping hearts out of men, women and children flashing before his eyes as he squeezes the curse in an energized hand, feeling it pop and turn into nothing as the zero-pointer topples over once more and Yuji jokingly calls out; “TIMBERRRRRR!”
No one laughs.
A call over an intercom declares the test over, and Yuji claps appreciatively with a smile, getting the curse’s discolored remains all over his other hand as well. He is given nothing but a plethora of the world’s most disturbed looks.
An old woman hobbles through the streets, a large syringe for a cane, distracting the students by handing them haribo candy from her pockets, congratulating them for all their hard work. “Ooh!” Yuji slides down from standing atop the remains of the gimmick, speeding over to her and holding his hands out like a bowl. “Can I have some, too, Granny?”
“Of course, young man,” she says, sounding more amused than annoyed by his rude request and dropping some of the cute little goldbears into his hand. “Good work. Eat up.”
“Oh, are you a nurse, Granny?” He blinks, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to gesture at the curly-haired boy’s… crumpled body. “That kid over there is hurt.”
“Oh?” Seeming endeared by something, the old woman looks past him. “Oh, this poor thing. So your own beloved Quirk did this to you… almost looks as though your body isn’t used to it.”
Just as Yuji is thinking how that makes sense considering his weak presence that didn’t fit someone with such a powerful ability tucked away, he’s surprised by the sound of a loud smooch, as the Granny’s mouth extends to lay a loud wet kiss on the back of the boy’s head, nodding as his arm spontaneously heals from the nasty injuries.
Yuji cringes. I’m glad that JTC has Miss Ieiri instead of… whatever this is.
He looks down at the bears in his hand, lifting one to his mouth. By now, the Curse’s remains have disappeared from his hands. Despite the protests of his Supervising Sorcerer, his teacher and even his friends, Yuji’s mission is specifically to investigate the recent rise of interference of a suspicious group of curse users in Hero affairs, so he hadn’t been expecting to see any curses.
If some kid died because of that little guy, it wouldn’t be beneficial to them, either, would it? Yuji nervously chews on another bear.
What’s going on here?
On the way to the Musutafu address assigned to him for the mission, Yuji gets lost.
Since becoming Sukuna’s vessel, many things about Yuji’s day-to-day life have been disrupted. Sometimes, he sits outside of vending machines scarfing down disturbing amounts of snacks to combat the hunger pains in his stomach that beg him to go and eat a pregnant woman whole.
Fushiguro is considerate enough to pretend he doesn’t notice and pay for some more if Yuji runs out of money, but the first time Kugisaki saw it, she had paragraphs upon paragraphs of judgment. Yuji had responded by making a sparkly expression with his finger pressed seductively against his lip and announcing that he was quote, ‘eating for two’.
She didn’t look at him for an hour after that.
His typical indifference to danger would often bleed into enjoyment that worried his friends, such as when he got into a fight with a group of squid at the aquarium or the time he’d attempted to impress them by showing them his fantastic pinfinger skills.
These situations resulted in a white t-shirt permanently stained with squid ink and another hour Kugisaki refused to acknowledge him respectively.
Sometimes he laughs at things that aren’t funny. Watching horror movies is like watching A-list comedy nowadays. A dog died in an old zombie movie starring Will Smith and he actually snorted. That time, it had been Fushiguro who scooted away from him on the couch, not wanting to catch his evil.
And none of that even began to cover the less work-appropriate details.
Most recently, he realizes his sense of direction has dulled as well.
Yuji has no idea whether to die of laughter over the fact that Sukuna is trash with directions or be annoyed that it's bleeding over to him. Because it took him two hours to get to his house and it’s cold, he decides to be annoyed for now.
Serves you right. In the recess of his soul, Sukuna sounds offended, which is enough to cheer Yuji right up.
When he opens the door, he expects to feel sad because he doesn’t sleep right next door to Fushiguro anymore and can’t knock random rhythms on the wall until he yells for him to knock it off.
He expects to feel anxious to be alone with his thoughts and Sukuna in the manufactured home made to fit his cover story that is close enough to his real story to feel right, and sullied with just enough lies to make him wish they’d made something entirely new instead of just ruining what he’d grown up with.
“What the hell took you so long, Itadori?” Kugisaki scowls. “What, did you get lost or something?”
Instead, Yuji smiles.
“What the heck are you guys doing here?” He asks with an uncontrollable grin, taking off his shoes as he stumbles in the front door, approaching Fushiguro and Kugisaki, who dressed in casual clothes rather than their uniforms and sat on the plain couch like they owned it. “And also, how did you get in?”
“Nanami gave us a key,” Kugisaki explains, leaning forward. “Fushiguro thought we should come see you.”
Yuji slaps his hands over his mouth with a gasp, giving Fushiguro his most adoring look. Fushiguro scoffs through his nose; “It was Kugisaki who wanted to see you.”
“You suggested coming here!”
“Because you kept complaining that he wasn’t around.”
Yuji turns, giving her the same tear-filled, starry-eyed look. She yells in frustration.
Yuji feels his worries ease, like falling asleep after days of not getting any rest, or finally drinking water after hiking a mountain trail in the desert and his anxieties about being all alone feel almost silly. Fushiguro and Kugisaki have always had his back.
And just like that, peace is restored.
“HOW THE HELL IS IT MY FAULT FUSHIGURO IS BORING COMPANY!?”
“I can’t help it. How interesting a conversation can you have with someone with the intelligence of a gorilla?”
“…Straw Doll Technique—”
“KUGISAKI, NOT ON THE NEW FURNITURE—”
…Relatively.