Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was nothing but an endless void. A darkness like a blanket of safety, where nothing could touch you. They say ignorance is bliss but the lack of everything, a permanent nothingness might just be better.

Life was beautiful yet painful, long yet short, bright yet dark, it was everything all of the time. It seems fitting that death was the lack of everything. Until it wasn't.

Sometime during the silence of death they came to. They were there but not. Aware they existed but how could they? They were part of the nothingness they no longer lived so what was this? Who were they?

The thoughts were scrambled and if not for the blanket of calm keeping them in the dark they would be spiraling. They had no recollection of their name, no picture of their face, how they knew they were dead was beyond them. They stayed like that for a long time, floating and unfeeling.

It was small but with the lack of anything else it seemed big. It was light. Somehow through the darkness there was a pinprick of light. Whatever this light was, it called to them. Something different, something new. It was harsh but so soft and bright.

They answered the call like a sailor to a siren's song. It was like moving through molasses, the constant urge to move forwards with no progress. There was no time just there and not. That little light grew and grew until there was something new.

It was foggy, like a frosted window letting nothing but the vague blur of shadows penetrate the light. For some unknown reason it felt like he knew the shadow. Like it was the one calling to them. The shadow shifted and they were immobilized by a brilliant blue.

It was brighter than anything they have ever seen, so pure and uncorrupted, untouched by the dirty hands of death. It was familiar somehow. Something they have seen before, that same blinding brighter than sky blue. The same blue that was quickly fading, now melting back into the shifting shadows of the window.

Those shadows that moved around seemingly forever unchanging, they don't know how long they waited for that blue to return. And return it did, time and time again. They had spent so long watching that shifting blue they knew it like it was their own, familiarizing themselves with it till the blue was clearer. Eventually the blue took on a shape.

Eyes.

Connected to a face they could never quite understand, hazy and unfocused. The eyes however remained that blinding blue. Oftentimes seemingly joyous or playful, rarely taking on a look of anger or dejection. Who’s eyes were they? Were they theirs?

They searched for the answer trying to remember anything other than those eyes. Quickly being greeted with pain, it was everywhere, all consuming.

The black threatened to return, fuzzing the edges of the foggy window even more. They were being dragged back into the dark nothingness of death. It submerged them once more, that soft blanket of black safety.

They wanted to go back to that window to see more of that calming blue they couldn't quite place. The longer they stayed the less they wanted to return, the harder they fought the farther they got. At least the blanket didn't pain them like the window did, at least here they were safe.

~~~~

They don’t know how it happened but they were back at the window. Just free floating and then not. It was clearer now, the fuzzy images sharpening, some of the haze removed. Those haunting blue eyes with the blurry face now held a head of hair so white it almost blended with the background, and skin pale enough to match.

There was another figure now too. This one is smaller compared to the blue eyed one. Its face blurrier than the other had ever been, although its hair was darker it was also longer. This one too was familiar but in a different way, they couldn't place it but they knew these people somehow.

The shadows kept them company as long as they don't try to remember anything. They had figured that out when being sent back to the darkness of death a second time subsequently after being assaulted by debilitating pain. It was annoying however they found it was ok as long as they weren't alone. They found they hated being alone most of all.

~~~

The shorter one had left but the taller remained to keep them company. They were soon joined by another short one, they were clear. Clear in the ways the others were not.

It was a girl and a young one at that. She had long black hair tied up into a braid with a white headband to compliment the school girl outfit. She too had blue eyes but they were different, not as vibrant or eerie enough that they look at your soul.

Those eyes, although different, burned with a sense of passion and determination they had seen in the others.

They had watched as the girl seemingly on guard slowly lost the tension in her shoulders eventually taking on a bright smile. It made them happy to see someone else fully for the first time, someone who was showing emotion and not a blurry face.

They continued to watch as the girl looked like she was going to cry, to cry with a smile on her face.

It was in slow motion. They witnessed everything happening like it wasn't real, watched as something too fast to catch came from the side. Watched as it hit her. Watched as she hit the ground. Watched as the fire in her eyes died out. Watched as the colorless background seeped red.

They sat in shock for a moment. Something confused and distressed and violent overtook them. Anger white hot and blinding anger took hold. What had that girl that led with her head high and passion and determination done to deserve this?! They fought against the window trying anything to change what was happening.

It was a fruitless struggle. The pain returned once more and the cold darkness took them back.

~~~

They had returned some time after. A feeling of emptiness had returned with them. They found themselves back at that godforsaken widow now erased of any existence of the young girl.

The previous shadows were back, they remained blurred nothing like the other. It was like it had never happened at all, like everything they had witnessed was unimportant.

The shadows wavered every now and then, like they couldn't stay and had other things to attend to. Then the one with blue eyes didn't return for longer and longer periods of time. The small one stayed but they never took on any other features, forever blank and blurred.
(seeing Yu dead)

Why did the one with pale hair leave? Did they do something? Why could the small one stay and they couldn't? With that face with the brightest blue eyes no longer looking at them they felt just a little lonelier. They didn't look at them the same when they returned.

It was the same but different, like they aren't important enough to stick around.
Slowly the shorter one left, they came back more often but never stayed for long. They felt the same though, like it wasn’t as personal as the pale one. What was happening? Why don't they stay? Why?

Like every time before this pain was given in return for their questioning. Then black. The pain didn't stop in the dark this time, it stayed as a constant reminder.

They just had to tempt fate didn't they? They couldn't just be happy with what they had, no. They just had to want more; greedy, selfish.

~~~

How could death still be painful? The pain eased up but never went away, a constant reminder for what happens when you want more than what you're given. It’s fine they did this to themselves, they have no one else to blame. They didn’t know if they wanted to return to the window, it seemed like it only served to make them irrational.

Was irrational so bad though if it was something? It had to be better than nothing. After a second of thought they returned, the white box slowly growing in size into the large window they had spent so long looking at.

The people were gone, replaced by two new ones. They were smaller than the others by a marginal difference. The window was so clear. They could see all the colors and each and every detail.
Two girls one with blond the other with brown, both matted and tangled with dirt. They were in a cage huddled together with nothing but fear in their small frantic eyes. Why were they in a cage!

They felt a dizzying rush of anger and guilt. They couldn't do anything for these small children just watch.
The image was so vivid and real, he knew these girls, knew this scene so well they could nitpick every detail.

The scene seemed to draw on for longer and longer, more than any other before it. They could do nothing but stare and wish it changed. Wish that those girls weren't scared and shivering, clung to one another. When it did change the colors stayed but it was dull now.

Nothing like before and certainly nothing like the soul piercing blue from the one with pale hair. The girls stayed however muted the colors became they didn't leave.

~~~~

They watched them grow. From small terrified children to young girls wearing bright smiles. It was like that for so long just watching being content.

Happy to see them happy.

When it changed for the last time, the girls faded and were replaced with that haunting blue. The same blue they hadn't seen since they were last in the dark. The same blue they could never forget no matter how hard they tried.

The world was once again bright with every color on display for them. And there stood the man with the blue eyes. He was wearing a uniform of some sort, different from the ones they had seen the girls in. He was bigger, more filled out, less lanky than before.

His eyes looked sad.

‘Your late’

The thought popped into their head. That’s odd, why was he late? Were they expecting him? The man continued to stare until he opened his mouth and said something.

“Suguru”

It was the first time they had heard something here. It was a name. Was it theirs? Whose name was this? Their thoughts were cut off as the man knelt down next to them, those blue eyes that felt as if they had pierced their soul, never looked away. The rest of the conversation was muffled like it was underwater.

It angered them, it was the first time they could hear someone talking to them only for it to be just out of reach.

They pushed against the window desperate to get more of the conversation. To hear the man's voice that they had seen for so long. To hear the voice of someone that had left them behind long before they had seen the girls. The pain flared, their mind begged them to stop to just stay curious once more.

They couldn't help it.
Something about this man made them insatiable for more. More time to look at him, more time to hear his voice.

They pushed harder, like swimming to the surface of a never ending lake so close and yet so much farther. They could feel it slipping like they were sinking deeper instead of pushing farther.

No.

No they couldn't, they wanted this.
They wanted the answer to this more than anything, they were tired of being confused and angry. This was it, it was now, not before and most definitely not after.

Chapter Text

The flood gates had opened. They had made it past the window, and had broken the surface of the murky waters of death. It's cold claws had become so cemented in their soul it was disorienting to be free of its clutches.

The people they couldn't seem to remember now had a clear face with a name and a story, not a blurry canvas they felt like they had once known.

‘Suguru’

That was him. He was Suguru Getou, the special grade, the ex sorcerer, the curse user, the father and the once best friend of the strongest. He remembered what he had done, what crimes he had committed and the price he had paid for them.

He remembered the boy he had met in his first year of Jujutsu High. The boy at the window he thought was nothing more than a pair of eyes, it was Satoru. He was mad at himself, mad that he had done what others did.

To see Satoru as nothing but his power and his eyes. Satoru was the boy that had never had a friend before him and Shoko. The boy that had the biggest sweet tooth he had ever seen.

The very same that had looked death in the eyes and had won. Who came back stronger than death. The same one that had paid Suguru’s own dues when the time came. Back in that alleyway he sat.

He was there again.

He could feel the cooler air of December. Could feel the brick digging into his back, cold and grounding. He knew his arm was gone, didn't have to double check that the agonizing pain was telling enough.

No amount of pain however could take away from the moment he was reliving. The figure- no, Satoru had knelt down a short distance away. The boy he had known was always smiling more bubbly than anyone else.

This was not the boy that Suguru had known he had to remind himself. He may look the same but he had changed, they both had. He didn't know how much Satoru had changed in their time apart but he knew he had.

He had an air of seriousness around him, one that Suguru had never felt. This Saturu still had his infinity up around him. But why would it be down? He didn’t deserve to have it down around him. He had left him and proved himself a threat to others.

He would never raise a hand against Satoru not that he could do that anyways but the fact remained. It hurt a little knowing that he no longer held that privilege that bypassed infinity. It didn't make sense but it hurt.

He didn’t know what he was saying but it was probably the same as the first time. Something about his family being safe and how he couldn’t truly smile. But that was ok, it was ok because Satoru was there. And once again he heard those words.

“********”

The words that made him rethink everything. From the time he used to insult Satoru on the same day he himself had stared at him like he hung the stars in the sky. To now when he could do nothing but give a smile so real it made his heart hurt so much worse than leaving.

Because it could have been different. Maybe if he was stronger it would have been. But it hadn’t and now he was here, and all he had to show for it was a watery laugh and his final request.

“At least curse me a little at the end”

Because maybe it was better to believe he was hated more than it was to believe he was loved. Maybe he was scared of receiving something back for all that he had given. Maybe that's what had made it worse when Satoru had looked at him with eyes that held nothing but grief.

It may have been the second time and might not even be real but the hurt in his chest was more real than anything else had been since this had started. Since he had woken from death and did nothing but watch his memories through a cloud of fog and confusion.

Since he had felt the boiling rage of watching Riko die in front of him. Since he had found his precious girls locked away in a cage, treated like animals, by monkeys no less. No, this was stronger. It was what he could never run from, what followed him for the ten years after leaving.

He hated the feeling. It showed he was weak that something could get to him that made him vulnerable. He had to stop being weak when he was small and lonely, and had to stop the need in his heart before he knew what it was.

Satoru Gojo, he had concluded, was the exception. The one that had taken a piece of him that very first day and had kept more of it as time went on. He could feel the tears that had collected in his eyes flow over and silently fall down his face.

He may not have liked his fate if it was carried out by anyone other than Satoru, but it wasn’t. It was ok if it was him, he would rather it be no one else but him. And maybe that was cruel but the pain was sweet at the very end.

He felt Satoru’s cold fingertips at his throat. It was ok. Could feel the energy form, no doubt the feeling of purple. It’s not fair, but it was ok.

It was ok because it was Satoru.

Chapter Text

He blinked. Blinked again. Twice more. What? Was this another memory of his that he was being forced to relive? No. It couldn't be he didn't recognize this place, it was dark with a single overhead light.

The rooms walls were covered in different tools, some looking to be old and well used while others had some sort of protective casing still on them. It smelled odd and sterile. It was the only way he could describe it, it reminded him of when he used to hang around Shoko in the morgue.

There was a table under the light clearly the center of attention as a woman's body lay on it. Short back hair that reaches her shoulders and a soft face. She wore a peaceful expression and a casual outfit, the only oddity was her head. There embedded into the skin and bone was an incision that ran from the left of her forehead to the right and possibly all the way around.

It looked as if it were an old wound reopened with the scarring around the area and the small holes in a criss cross patterned along the entire length. What was this? His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, his body was frozen. The voice drew closer until he raised his hand. His arm erupted into fuzzy static at the movement clearly not used to its circulation.

Wait his arm?

He stared at it, there right where it should be was his arm. It wasn't missing. The voice had stopped and another had started to speak, falling on his deaf ears as he stared at his arm. His mouth was moving, something something about success in an almost bored voice. But how, he wasn't talking, that wasn't him. It was like being pulled by the strings, he could only sit and watch as his body acted on its own.

His head filled with questions failed to realize what was happening till it shocked back into place. At once he was filled with panic and gut sinking dread. An all too familiar and vile taste filled his mouth.

The taste of nothing but bile and sand, it was the same and it was back. He could do nothing to remove the offensive taste. His body wouldn't allow him to wrench it back up, to claw at his throat, to do something! Anything!

Was this his eternal punishment?

To relive the deep wounds of the past and whatever this hellish hallucination was? But it was deserved, wasn't it? For all the horrible things he had done in his life he supposed he had to receive equal punishment. As once again he felt that awful taste scrape down his throat. The taste that followed him in death, forever taunting him. Yes, it was deserved.

~~~~

Month 2

In his time as a spectator he has learned a lot. The fact that this is indeed the present and not a cruel hallucination. Also the fact that he is somehow alive in some twisted way. The parasite controlling him most definitely has some sort of fucked of sense of humor given the fact that most of the rare times he is `conscious?` Is when he's forced to eat curses. Forced to relive his decade of nothing but curses.

When he’s not present he's plucked into some weird limbo in which he just exists. It's like when he was in the void when he knew nothing and was just waiting, his soul trapped in his body unable to move on and find eternal rest.
At the same time it’s so much different in the fact that he knows everything and knows he will eventually be called back when he feels that rotting taste on his tongue. Rinse repeat.

Rarely does it change but when it does is when he learns the most. Like how his parasite feels like he is older than time itself, that he likes to monologue and talk to himself. He spends his time either A; hunting curses or B; his most time consuming activity- Experimenting.
It's painful and ugly to watch and sometimes downright gruesome some of his so-called experiments. He wishes in these times that he could just go back to the void but life or well death? Is not so kind to him.

Forced to watch with unblinking eyes that don't even feel human as they poke and prod at bodies for hours on end. To watch eyes that seemingly always follow him have no life left behind them, no shine just dull, lifeless and accusing.
He wished that he had stayed dead even if it meant forever facing those blue eyes. Eyes that he now remembered to be of his best friend that he had betrayed, left behind, and finally forced to take his own life.

It was a far easier punishment than being dragged around against his will just to wake again and relive the bile that is eating at curse. Over and over and over and over again. He had done it for a dedicated and it had been bearable, on his own terms, for a greater purpose. Now nothing more than a punishment for a goal he doesn't know nor gets a say in.

Maybe his punishment is just in some way. It probably was, seeing as all of the suffering he had dealt onto others just for him to meet his quick end. For him to walk away from it all and expect his eternal rest. Yeah. It was what he deserved.
None of his causes mattered in the end anyways just a magnet of suffering and nothing more. No greater purpose was ever achieved. He knew it was a crazy thought when he set out to fulfill it.

It would never work so long as Satoru was, well, Satoru. He wouldn't allow it. He knew that much. Maybe it was just him trying to justify pushing his own suffering onto others that had no part in his own. Maybe.

~~~~

Month ?

He’s not sure how much time has passed but it's enough to see himself change. To see his body being puppeteered against his will. To watch his body get the bare minimum to stay the same. But it's not the same. His hair while being clean no longer has the shine that he prided himself on, his nails no longer filed down to gentle curves but clipped and rough.

His eyes remain dull, something in them dead, maybe it was him.

The most eye-catching however is the line of stitches that circle around his head. The harsh string holding him together, he hates it! It reminds him that he’s not in control of his life anymore. He looks like he did before he went rogue. He feels the same too.

He wants death to take him back, wants to go back to the feeling of blissful nothingness. To exist and to not. However much he hopes is not enough though he doesn't return day after day, curse after curse. His host doesn't stop no matter how his body protests against the curses.

One after the other.

He knows he’s gained quite the collection with the never ending stream of curses he swallows, it has to be over a few thousand at this point surly. On the bright side of a bleak situation at least, he’s starting to taste less of the curses.

Well, less of almost everything. It’s all dull and feels more like eating sand than anything but he will take this rather than the constant taste of curses.

Small victories.

~~~~

Year 1 maybe?

It’s been a long time. He can’t remember the last time he saw a calendar but he knows a decent chunk of time has passed. His taste is almost completely gone, everything is dull like what he imagines eating cardboard would taste like.

His body has continuously been maintained to what the parasite deems fit. Time swims less as time has progressed, he’s stopped returning to nothingness for days on end now just visiting after a particularly nasty curse. He kinda misses it. Misses having a break and being able to cease to exist.

He's grown tolerant of his host's consistent muttering. Something so like Satoru rambling on about some obscure topic yet so different and twisted. Unlike Satoru’s loud and energetic voice he’s left with his own that’s dull and quiet.

He’s discovered recently that he can feel things and takes small comforts in the clothing he can feel against his skin. It’s never soft but it’s something that isn't metal so he welcomes the feeling.

Sometime during his days of endless waking he's met some new faces, they look kinda human but he can tell they're not. Some of them more than others. Like one that has back hair tied up into side buns opposed to another that has one eye and what seems to be a volcano on his head?

But for looking so much like a curse he's capable of coherent speech and thought it seems. It’s not only odd but concerning. What created these things? What are they? Something was happening, something big.

Details were almost always vague but from what he understood they were planning something in Shibuya, some sort of big battle. Maybe if he was lucky the fucker piloting him would die and he could finally rest.

Yeah right. He's never that lucky.

~~~~

Day? time? year? whatever doesn't matter.

Whatever they had planned was happening today. His host normally stoic and muttering seemed to be excited? As were other ‘things’ that were buzzing around making last minute changes. It was hectic as all hell and he hated it. It was overwhelming, all of it.

His vision was swimming within the hour and he prayed to return to unconsciousness. His eyes screamed at him to close them, to block everything out. It was panic. He hadn't felt it in a long time, not since he had originally woken up with someone else controlling his body. But now that it had started it was a spiral.

The noises and sound drowned out by the fear of what if something did happen to him? What if he got thrown into some other strange reality worse than this one? What if this limbo lasted forever? It felt like his brain had finally woken up, like he could think for the first time.

And all he could do was panic.

Why had he not thought of any of this sooner?! Why was he complacent?! Why had he done nothing to fight it? That's when he felt it. Just when his mind was clear and un-fogged did darkness creep into his vision. No no no no NO! He needs to do something! To stop anything! He needs to-

~~~~
Swimming. That's what he was feeling. It was dark. What was he just doing? He didn't know. He was just swimming. He could feel himself moving but why was he moving when he had no goal? That's strange.

Did he want to leave? But why? It was nice here. Dark and silent. Peaceful.

No, he wanted to leave. He didn't know why but he had to leave. He swam farther. Or maybe floated? Didn't matter he had to leave.

But didn’t you want this? Wanted it all to stop. You wanted this.

He pushed harder. No he didn’t want this. He would do something.