I'M AFRAID OF MYSELF AND I HATE IT

ALL MY SKELETONS OUT FOR THE TAKING

skeletons,

The first thing that sends you into a wave of panic upon opening your eyes is the blatant unfamiliarity of the room. A painful headache scorches the pit of your skull as you rub your temple sorely.

Naturally, the first thought that pierces your train of thought is something along the lines of 'Oh my god, I've been kidnapped!'

Memories, distant and new, emerge from the trenches of your mind, and the events that befell the night before come running back like wind grazing a prairie.

The curse. The boy. The sound of demons.

You blink, and then struggle a little, realising you are in restraints. Your hands are tied behind your back as you sit on a chair, and with blurry vision, your eyes look lazily around you.

The walls are plastered with old letters and writings, paper that's lined with age and dark memories. Omens linger in the air like smog in the busiest parts of Tokyo, thick and unwavering, not even batting an eyelid at the thought of suffocating you.

Your eyes are entranced but there is too much to read, and the bitter light of the lanterns scattered on the floor are too soft for you to see through the darkness.

So really, you're blinded in a place of the unknown, armed with nothing but the tragedy of yesterday and the power of the future.

"Ooh! You're awake!" Someone hums. Their voice is delightfully childish, nonchalant and smooth, like treacle is dripping from their lips.

You turn, feeling your heart beat so fast that it might just rattle enough to break apart your chest.

A young man sits before you in a chair, but not sitting in same way as you were. The chair was backwards and his long arms and even longer legs hung out from around it.

His hair was an extraordinary white, coated with winter's frost and the ice of the new world. A colour so cold it strikes purity into the gaze of many; in the dim light of the room it was a meandering grey, however. Like he too, had hazy patches and areas of grey to walk in.

"Did you kidnap me?!" You ask, stupefied, neck curving as you lean in. "Answer me!"

He smiles; it was a smile that no one can quite describe, like the words to entail it are forever stuck on a quivering tongue. "Nope, I'm not like that! But, because I'm kind, I'll give you a recap after you passed out."

Passed...out?

It comes clawing back at you, the monster, Itadori, Fushiguro. You rasp for breath, stomach lurching at the thought that while you were unconscious, some life or death battle was unfolding.

He gives a brief description, general and vague and certainly not descriptive in the areas where detail is warranted (for example, why did Itadori eat a finger?!).

"The events I know and your recap don't line up," You narrow your eyes warily at him, well aware that you were the victim here with your hands and legs tied and an injury on your arm.

He shrugs, rather uncaringly, "Hey, I did my best."

In the silence of the room, his voice echoes, giving rise to a plethora of thoughts. Were you underground?

"I have a few questions," You say suddenly, a sharp tone coupling your words.

The corner of his lips twitch, "Not surprised, but go ahead!"

"Where am I? Where's Itadori? Who the hell are you? Why is Itadori being fucking executed? And what is the food that smells so good?!"

You can't say you asked those questions; it was more like you screamed out at a stranger in one single breath, drawing a large inhale upon finishing.

"You're somewhere," He shrugs, "Where exactly? I've forgotten."

I don't trust this dude. I'm going to get murdered. This is how I die.

"Itadori is actually in the room next to you," He muses, "I was just talking to him! Don't worry, he knows you're fine, save for a few injuries!" He continues with a laugh.

You fix your eyes on him, more specifically on the blindfold that he adorned. There was something about it that felt too mundane, the feeling of tightly-wound secrets seemed overwhelming in his presence.

And then, he lifts his finger and wags it playfully, "My name is Gojo Satoru. I'm Fushiguro's teacher! I'm also a bunch of other stuff but I don't feel like talking about my life story right now."

Gojo Satoru. Despite having never heard it before in your life, it felt eerily familiar, pertaining the same feeling you had uncovered upon hearing of Ryoumen Sukuna. Somehow, despite being a naive youth, stumbling in the darkness of the uncertain paradigm, you are more involved than you initially thought.

Gojo pulls out a paper bag from behind his chair, grinning proudly. It's flecked with blood and dirt, so you imagine he had it on him when he was at the school yesterday.

"It's Kikufuku from Kikusuian. It's Sendai's speciality, and it's super good! I recommend the zunda and cream flavour."

You bite your lip, still feeling like you don't have all the answers. "I have another question."

"Ah! Raise your hand! I'm a teacher, you know," Gojo crows, nagging you.

"I... can't... I'm tied to a chair," You flatly reply, blinking at what you just heard.

Gojo taps his chin, "My bad! I wear a blindfold for a reason!"

That's not - That doesn't even make sense! You roll your eyes and sigh; it was a long sigh and the sound of your tired voice reverberates off the small walls.

"Why is Itadori being executed? Are you actually going to do it? What about the law?! Where's his lawyer?"

Gojo lifts four fingers on his right hand, "You're quite the enthusiast, I see. Nothing short of what I expected from a [Last Name] descendant. You even asked four questions! But I'll explain."

[Last Name] descendant? Make that five questions.

"Itadori ate Sukuna's finger, I'm sure you know that. And now, he's a potential vessel for him," Gojo explains ( you hate to admit it because he is probably a good teacher because you actually understand some of the stuff he is spewing.)

He pulls out a finger from his pocket and your lips curl like you're stomaching bile that's risen at the back of your throat.

It looks exactly, if not the same, like the finger you had clutched back yesterday, and even now, every bone in your body is shrivelling at the omen of darkness. The curses this single fleshed out object embodies is indescribable, all you can feel is unwavering terror as you look at it. Sukuna's laughter echoes like one of those sea shells in your eardrums.

"This is the same cursed object that Itadori ate," Gojo said, waving it around mindlessly. "There are twenty of them, and we possess six of them."

Your eyes widen, "Twenty?! Oh, each finger and toe?"

"Nope," Gojo swivels his head, "Sukuna has four arms." He throws the finger into the air and you watch horrified at what happens next.

As if there is some invisible barrier protecting him, the finger flies into the wall and leaves a devastating crater. The old writings surrounding it start to burn from the flickers of flames, newly born from the emergent of dangerous power.

"As you can see, we can't destroy them," Gojo stands up and picks the finger up again. "The curse is just that powerful and it grows stronger by the day, and the seal of modern-day jujutsu sorcerers can't keep up."

You furrow your eyebrows, confusion creeping across your face. "So, it's a ticking bomb?"

"Well! This is where Itadori comes in. When he dies, the curse inside him will die as well. But that would be a waste, wouldn't it?"

"A waste?" You irk an eyebrow, hatred growing with every passing second. This was a human life he was talking about here! How can law and morality be overridden by this?!

Gojo walks back and forth, playing with the cursed object in his hands, "There's no guarantee another vessel capable of handling Sukuna will ever be born again. So, this is what I proposed: If we're going to kill him anyway, why not kill him after he's absorbed all of Sukuna?"

"No," You say suddenly; your lips had moved without you even consciously thinking. The word of defiance escapes your tongue quicker than you can catch it. "I won't let you."

"Awww, that's very brave of you, [First Name]. But, not only did the higher ups agree, Yuuji-kun also said yes!" Gojo beams proudly.

"He what?! How can he accept this? This is so stupid. I don't understand half the shit coming out of your mouth! I'm gonna report you to the police for kidnapping!"

Higher ups?! [Last Name] ancestor. Curses?!

Before you can even let out another yell, Gojo shoves a mint green delicacy into your mouth and you realise it's the Kikufuku he was talking about earlier. Rather annoyingly, it tastes rather sweet and authentic.

"If I didn't care, [First Name], I would not have had Shoko-kun bandage you up. You claim to not know much but you are hiding something," He stands up suddenly as you furiously chew through your unwanted snack. "Ah, well! I'm going to send you over to Yuuji-kun. He's been asking for you."

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Hospitals are such intricate places; they reek of death.

As you walk down the corridor, you revel in the mystery of what a hospital is. Contemplation of this is easy to lose yourself in, because a hospital is so vast and endless and chaotic it engulfs you whole, and you lose yourself in the depth of it's belly, trapped in a tangible place that is tethered to this physical plane but also so much more. You look around, met with the blinding white of the painted walls, and the twisted long corridors, which can often feel empty during this time. The absence of something does not sit right with your stomach. The more you see nothing but yourself in that quiet vacant corridor, the more your mind is drawn to the nature of the very place you walk within.

There could not be anything more cataclysmically life-changing than the physical environment that surrounds you. The stench of death is ever so clear, and it paints a fragrant picture within your mind, a mind morbidly fascinated with the loss of the soul and the final moments of living. This was a place that teetered on the edge of resurrection and modern miracles, that saw lives start and end. The power of weaving the fine line between life and death rested in humanity's own hands. They cause their own descent into madness and slaughter, God's creation has too much power to remain fearful of the divine and unknown. You think to yourself, as you continue walking, why do humans die? How did humans die? Was eternity of living, breathing and knowing your existence there and then, not enough for us? Must we also play tricks and hand our fate over the afterlife? Death was no more than the halting of your body, as if the clogs inside ceased to function. Humans were simply intricate pieces of machinery with an expiry date. Was death the absence of your soul, your very essence? You couldn't be sure.

Gojo-sensei's words cling in the back of your head which you feel is pooled with too many questions. The details are simply dreams that are too far away.

You had just been to visit Iguchi-senpai who was in the hospital. The image of Sasaki's saddened face and tears flocking beneath those beautiful midnight eyes. Itadori's fake smile; it was like he was taking all of the blame. The way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the metal around the hospital bed.

Even the small "Bye-bye" he said when he waved his hand, the other stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie.

You don't like how the smile dropped when he left the room. Something happened to him, and you want to know what it was.

So, outside in the vastness of the world which could easily swallow up two souls like you, you sit with him on a bench.

And very unfortunately, Gojo-sensei also joins, but you do your best not to dwell on it.

"Who passed away?" He asks; the space between the three of you remind you of the gaps in the sky between twinkling stars.

Itadori can't meet either of your eyes, "My grandpa. Although, he was like a father to me."

"I see. Sorry it happened at a time like that," Gojo says.

You blink, so that's why had to leave early that day? Was he visiting his grandpa in hospital?

You want to say something but you know not is not the right time and place. Part of you wants to give your apologies and wishes to Itadori sincerely and in private.

"So," Gojo sighs, changing the topic, "Have you decided what you want to do?"

You look at the reflection the polarised glass brings, staring into the unwavering depths of your eyes, wanting to catch a glimpse of the window to your soul.

Itadori has his shoulders slouched, for a moment the two of you look at each other in the reflections of the hospital window, but then he looks back at Gojo.

"Are casualties like these from curses pretty common?"

His question sends a shiver down your spine, invoking the unwanted memories of your youth. You can feel the blood beneath your skin run cold out of fear, trembling at the idea. In that moment, the image of Mother's corpse being feasted upon by all those wildly imaginative beasts is the only thing that stays in your thoughts.

"This one was a rather exceptional case," Gojo says casually, "But in term of the damage, it happens all the time."

Bright, comforting words indeed, you think bitterly.

"It's a good night when someone dies a normal death after encountering a curse." It's the nonchalance in his expression that tugs at you, replacing the terror in your eyes with intrigue. Gojo-sensei speaks like he's talking about the most normal thing in the world.

"Finding a body that's all torn apart is on the better end of the outcomes," He continues.

You look away, fixing your eyes on the earth beneath your sneakers. Is this... what you want? Aren't you just being dragged along for the ride?

No, you think, casting your mind back to Gojo's words. Somehow, you're more involved in this world that you previously thought. It's no coincidence that Mother was killed by a curse, and it's no coincidence that the spirits plaguing you can be explained by all of this. Or that you had some control over the radiance of dark energy back then at the the school.

"If you plan to hunt down Sukuna, you're going to witness some gruesome scenes and I can't guarantee you won't end up that way yourself. So! Choose your hell."

"I'll - I'll do it, Gojo-sensei," You say suddenly, speaking for the first time. "We write our own stories, and decide how it really ends."

Gojo smirks, shifting his head to look at you. Even with the blindfold on, his expression is somewhat readable.

"Nice! I like people like you. I think [First Name] is finally starting to understand what she's gotten herself into."

You sigh, laying back on the bench, "A fun hell await us."

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The only real sound in the room is the closing of the metal tin containing the ashes ofItadori's grandpa.

Following the long-winded discussion outside, Itadori had gone to collect the remains of his Grandpa, during which you had given him a heart-felt message that he seemed to have taken to heart.

"Do you still have that finger?" He asks Gojo, who was leaning against the wall in the corner.

Gojo pulls it out of his pocket, a thin smile grazing his lips. He then hands it over to Itadori and you watch silently at the exchange.

"Looking at it again, it's pretty disgusting," Itadori frowns, almost like he's tasted something unpleasant.

You laugh, "What did it taste like the first time?"

"Bitter. Like really, old meat, I guess," He shrugs, laughing back.

With a stingy expression, Itadori chews down the finger ( more like struggles to, the more you look at his constipated face ).

He sounds like he's choking and you look feverishly around while Gojo doesn't bother moving an inch. His expression is unreadable which you dislike; he's clearly hiding secrets and in a world like this, secrets might just get you killed.

Suddenly, black markings appear around Itadori's face, taking you back. You stumble, eyes widened at the transformation. Itadori's eyes suddenly fly open, and his back straightens for the slightest moment.

His hands move towards his neck, he webbed bit between his thumb and fingers curving around the skin of his throat, as if he is choking himself.

In the corner of your eye, Gojo's hand wavers, like he's on standby for the worst.

"I - Itadori?" You whisper, undeniable fear pulsing through your veins. That fear grows more powerful with each wobbly step Itadori takes as he comes closer to you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Didn't you have a shield? Didn't make a shield back at the school?! Come on!

You lift your hands shakily and watch the spirals of something translucent form before your eyes; it is a very weak shield.

The shield proves useless when Itadori turns away, and thankfully it seems like it only last for a split-second because you were quite embarrassed if anyone saw it.

Itadori presses his head against the wall, back hunched. You can hear his laughter, Sukuna's laughter, the howls of merciless bloodshed that echo on nights with the full moon.

You feel unsteady just looking at the extra pair of eyes that have fleshed out. Shaking, Itadori struggles for a moment but then he stands up, almost teary-eyed.

He sticks his tongue out rather comically, "Urgh!!!! So gross! So gross it's funny."

You stifle a laugh alongside Gojo-sensei; he almost had you worried there. Almost.

"What? Something wrong?" Itadori frowns innocently.

Your lips curl into a smile for the first time in a while, "Nope. Nothing at all."

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