Chapter Text
“It's honestly not that big of a deal.” Satoru chimed, tipping back in the office chair casually.
It was, in fact, a very big deal. There may not have been another issue more pressing in the jujutsu world than this. He was freaking out internally, and that wasn't easy to accomplish. Then again, neither was knocking out his technique.
Satoru would admit that to himself and not a single other soul. The only upside to this predicament was that he didn't need to wear any eye protection. He forgot what living without a constant migraine was like. Turned out to be pretty pleasant. He could get used to the lack of pain pulsing behind his eyes. To be without his technique though? It was not just him at risk. His birth shifted the world, and now the scales would yo-yo until he was able to regain his strength or die trying. Things were going to get unhinged.
“If they can get to the bullet fragments, and take them out, even if I do die, my RCT should kick back on and bring me back,” Satoru grinned,” Then everything can be good again.”
Shoko stared with her usual tired expression and shook her head in disbelief. The pseudo-doctor spun back in her chair to look at the X-rays on the exam board. Satoru hadn't taken his performative smiling face off of it since she put it up. They were estimating it to be a 9mm frangible bullet packed with the fragments left of the Inverted Spear of Heaven. The outer casing hit infinity, exploded, and the shrapnel tore through it and into the prodigal sorcerer.
The depth and size of the pieces varied. The largest danger was several small pieces in his heart and a few in his neck. She and every other reasonable doctor, plus a few who weren't reasonable, agreed they didn't have the current technology to safely remove all of the pieces. Attempting could make it worse, or put him in a coma, but would more likely kill him.
But there was always someone who would take risks for money, and the Gojo's had more than enough money to make the risk worth it. As a fresh and fully legal adult, no one in Satoru's family nor the school could stop him from going through with it. There was no point in waiting for him. Even now, every minute he wasn't working was paid in the blood of innocents.
“And the other stuff?” She asked with a raised brow. There was no point to try and argue about the surgery anymore. He decided on this path, come hell or high water.
“Like I said, not a big deal,” Satoru shrugged, taking his focus off the board and over to Shoko, tossing her an “ok” hand sign,” Whatever happens, I’ll handle it. I'm not gonna be shamed into giving up my title. I'll just keep on proving there's nothing I can't do.”
He hopped off the sole exam table of the Gojo medical bay and stretched. The man snorted a chuckle and leaned on the back of her chair.
“I bet I could still knock someone up, all things considered. How funny would that be? Call that relationship a Breath of Fresh Air because it's O²,” he laughed at his own joke, but Shoko did not join him. She looked even more tired at the pun. Satoru's face stayed it's usual giddy,” You know, get it, because double O? Double Omega? Ahhh, I'm a genius.”
“Yeah I don't think you'll do that since you didn't want to before when you were alpha,” She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Eh, but you said I might still have some alpha traits? Like a female alpha or whatever? But you know, worse comes to worst, I'll just pop one out, toss it to the wetnurse as they tossed me, and go back to work. Easy-peasy. I can probably push it into being a clinical impregnation for the sake of success, and that no one has to actually put up with me. They think it'll be easier to find someone who wants to than it is.” He snorted.
“Yes, that's definitely how the very progressive and very cool clans tend to handle these sorts of things. Just like how the equipment in here is also from this century,” Shoko nodded with a flat reply,” Do whatever you want. Mazel tov.”
His flippancy was grating by this point, but she also knew it was defensive. Too many people wanted his head on a silver platter. If he didn't get his technique back, and it was highly likely he wouldn't for a good while, people were going to take advantage of what they could. It was hard to think of him as being in danger. The entire situation felt unreal.
Satoru's smile faltered, a silent beg for her to not continue. He was resigned to the situation and already agreed to his clan elder's unknown and vague conditions. After all, there were multiple factors at play in their hell of a culture.
The biggest came in the form of one Megumi Fushigoro, age eight, and his sister, Tsumiki Fushigoro, age eleven. By no means was Satoru fully incapacitated, but the Zen'in could argue he was, now that news of his injury got out. He'd have to give up Megumi and Tsumiki. Any chance of happiness or youth for them would be lost. Megumi would suffer, and his sister probably wouldn't make it out.
His own clan was barking about them too, but the accusations stung far worse. They were in shock that he took them in, to begin with. The fact that he took in the pups of the alpha who trickly bitched him painted an ugly picture. What did that say about his mental stability? How far did his brain rot in the process of changing? Clearly, this was done not just to humiliate their perfect heir but was an action of brood parasitism.
Satoru hated that he had to agree with the last part. It worked because he couldn't bring himself to hate Fushigoro for that specific part of his crime. He would've taken the kids in any way, but he could quite literally feel the desperation. It transferred into his own heart, and he wouldn't lose them. He'd do anything to keep them safe when he so horribly failed to protect the last two people he cared for.
It didn't change that the situation embarrassed the clan. They decided it was best to pretend he was never an alpha at all, but that they hid his nature the whole time for safety or some other bullsh*t. It was the only thing he wasn't fully against. That lie would be easier on him too, than publicly admitting what happened.
He refused to lose his wards or status. He already lost so much.
Satoru had his predictions for their plans. The list of eligible and properly ranked sorcerer alpha mates in the clans was short. He knew this because he used to be among them and considered “competition”. There would be only one option that fits the Gojo clan's bill, and he tried not to think about it. He also tried to avoid thinking about Suguru, or all of the terribly crude jokes he could make about the situation with him. Satoru never cared about nature when it came to Suguru. He just wanted him.
As far as he could tell, Suguru was curious at some point but had no desire or interest in another alpha. Despite his newfound insanity, he was still mostly normal. He'd seen the pretty bitch in photos next to him, handing him papers and never more than a foot away. It killed him, but it helped break his delusions of grandeur. Suguru was not going to come back. It was a one-sided situation.
Did he even want Suguru to be interested because Satoru changed into something more palatable? No, once he found out why, and by who, Satoru would probably just need to increase security around the kids' apartment. Megumi's ability be damned, he couldn't see Suguru allowing that monkey’s children to live. He'd be disgusted by his delayed defeat. Suguru was already disgusted by him in general.
“None of this has triggered new memories, right?” Shoko inquired, voice a little more gentle as she scribbled down notes,” From that day?”
“Can we not be weirdly vague like I'm gonna have a breakdown if we say it out loud?” Satoru muttered, rolling his eyes under the blindfold and running a hair through his light and fluffy hair,” No, I don't remember anything about…what was the nice word you used for it?”
“Calymorphex?”
“Yeah, that's too much of a mouthful and implies I was down for it. I'm gonna stick with bitching,” he shrugged,” So, no, I don't remember anything about getting bitched.”
“Seeing as we're on the same team now, most people are gonna think it's rude and insensitive if you use that,” Shoko took another drag,” But nothing new there I guess.”
“Yeah, I don't really care,” he said and headed out the door,” It's only for me anyway.”
Honey eyes watched him go. Satoru taking the risk with the surgery was one thing. That wasn't worth risking treason. His utter ignorance to the situation he fell into, that his layers of privilege protected him from thinking or worrying about? Yeah, that was making her consider reaching out to 1-800-SadCultMan. The only thing that made her hesitate was if he would help or take advantage of it. She really didn't know.
The leverage of his students and wards was too great. If the surgery failed, and it would, they were going to auction that boy off like f*cking cattle.
Or worse.
--
Satoru stared in the mirror at the splatter of tiny, angry red blotches across his right shoulder up to his neck. Ugh, so unattractive. It'd been a long time since anything marred his perfect skin. The f*cker who did it had to be smug about it. It wasn't easy to catch him by surprise, but sending a non-sorcerer with no idea what was in the bullet chamber was annoyingly smart. He rewrapped the wound with clean dressings and did his nightly anxiety routine.
Check his height, same. Check his weight, mostly the same. Check basic measurements, same. It was the only thing that kept him from going insane after the agonizing changes he first went through. He didn't think it was possible for pain to disrupt the autopilot his body ran on, but the brain controlled everything about the body, and his brain was poisoned. The rival alpheric poison seeped into it at the exact right window after death, and before he developed RCT. Its job was to set up the bomb to rewire him, and it succeeded.
RCT fought it at first, continuously. It was terrible timing too, or maybe it was actually ideal. He'd been up in the mountains at a specific area curses were attracted to. There wasn't a soul for miles, and even most curses were avoidant because of his energy. No one could hear him scream. This also meant there were no pain pills to help him through the several days of gutting where all he could do was try to breathe and stay curled.
There was a lot of blood, but no pounds of flesh missing from him after several days. Shoko offered to draw him a full diagram of what happened but he didn't accept the offer. He did accept the bottle of suppressants and was meticulous in taking them. Missing them for several days in the hospital while barely conscious resulted in his now ruined life.
Satoru glanced one more time in his bathroom mirror before dragging himself to bed and falling face down onto the mattress. He should've invested better in the furniture at the compound. The bed at his apartment was a million times nicer. His apartment was nicer too. It was modern and clean, with all the smart home amenities he could ask for. Yet, he was trapped here at the compound, for his safety. It was about as modern as a rock in both physical and political matters.
Sleep came easy anyway. A year of running on infinite empty was catching up to him. Two more days and it would be the surgery. It would work. It had to. sh*t always went his way and he always won. Once his powers were back, he could drag out the drama of the predicament until it became too much work for the council and elders to keep focusing on. If the surgery failed -- Well, he would still be fine. He could do anything.
His eyes closed, trying to not worry about further equinoxes. His alpha puberty solstice was already plenty. The omega equinox in the mountains was horrific. If he gained a bond mark with someone who didn't like how he was, with so many ‘untraditional traits', apparently there was a high chance he'd go through at least one more equinox as his body tried to “rectify” itself.
When another healer told him this was exclusively a sorcerer problem, the laugh he let out sounded more like a car engine refusing to start. Cursed energy was mailable, and it was able to change them for better or worse. Usually, it was for the better, what with strengthening muscles or the durability of their bones. The idea that his cursed energy, when it was back, would potentially force him to be what someone else wanted made him shiver.
Bonds didn't even last forever. Mating marks did, but not bond marks. Would it be only once or would the six eyes stop focusing on doing their jobs and instead fixate on “looking right” to please a mate? Just as welcomed darkness edged his vision, the phone attached to his hip buzzed. Wearily, Satoru looked down at it, then sat upright in shock.
Unknown Number [11:57 PM]
Some people visited me today and asked if I would kill you for them. Not who I expected to be making such a request. What did you get yourself into?
-🐉
Any sense of relaxation was gone. What replaced it was nothing short of ice and sharp constriction in his chest. Really? Who had the gall to go to Suguru of all people and ask that? Part of him wanted to reply sincerely, and the other wanted to be off-puttingly playful. He settled on a compromise of bitter sarcasm.
Satoru Gojo [12:04 AM]
Nothing that's going to inconvenience you, don't worry. Make them pay through the nose if you do it. They won't turn down any price you demand right now.
(◍•ᴗ•◍)b
He tossed the phone to the other side of the bed. That would be the last of it. It wasn't like Suguru actually cared, and if he did, it would be for all the wrong reasons. He really shouldn't respond even if the asshole did. Satoru's stomach sank as his phone buzzed instantly back.
Jerk™ [12:05 AM]
It's already an inconvenience if people are asking me. What did you do?
Whatever, it was going to get out and it would be hilarious if Suguru turned his suicidal “there's meaning in that” bullsh*t around to kill him.
Satoru Gojo [12:05 AM]
Technique broke. Visiting and maybe a new resident of Monkey Town. K thx bye.
Jerk™ [12:05 AM]
I know that. They said there was something else.
How f*cking fast did sh*t get around? Only some of his clan, their elders, the council, and Shoko should know. Which asshole set him up? God, what happened to the days of just trying to send an assassin after him in a normal way? Satoru's mellow pain shifted to irritation and he hit the call button on the number texting him.
He didn't give the curse user a chance to greet him before diving into it directly,” Did Shoko seriously ask you to kill me? She's being so weirdly dramatic about this if it's her.”
There was silence on the other end,” Technically it was her mother acting on her behalf, but your caretaker, au pair you used to call her, actually did too. Both of them came together.”
Satoru didn't know how to take that before his mind quickly bridged the logic of what must have actually happened,” They asked you to kidnap me or something, didn't they? Go back to your genocide party planning. It's not a big deal.”
“The fact that you're avoiding saying what it is to get me to shut up implies otherwise,” The cool and velvet voice replied with a sigh.
“They don't understand your priorities or loyalties,” The sorcerer said with practiced apathy,” If my plans go bad, it'll make your life easier and your goals more possible. How's that sound?”
“Maybe I'm worried, Satoru,” Suguru said, though his tone was carefully neutral as Satoru's was.
“No, you're a control freak who hates having information missing from your charts so you can overplan every possible outcome,” His voice veered off course, and hurt anger seeped into his words.
“Also true,” Suguru laughed lightly,” If it's not a big deal, why not just share already so I stop pestering you, hm?”
How could he laugh like that if he was worried? His throat and chest hurt while his heart pulsed heavily with unwanted and unrequited feelings. Satoru couldn't do this right now. He needed to focus on being in the best shape so the surgery went smoothly.
“Y’know what? Sure, whatever. I got bitched during the plasma missing, add another f*ck up tally to the board for that hell mission. And I got shot with remnants of the sword he used nullifying my technique. That's the big tragedy they're all melting down over for no reason that I already have solutions in place for. There you go. Night.”
He could hear the beginning of a shocked objection starting,” What? When and wh--” Satoru hung up the phone. It wasn't his business, and he couldn't bear the false affection.
His au pair, really?
The longer he sat in the dark, the more that detail stuck out to him. She risked a lot, her life, going to talk to Suguru. It was too bad she didn't realize that was a fruitless endeavor and not worth her heroic attempt. Besides, he knew this was serious. He also knew that there may only be two days left of his life as he knew it before its fragile structure crumbled. The sorcerer slowly laid down again and tried to think of anything but the new kinds of battles he wasn't prepared for, or the pretty empty words of a curse user. Satoru stared at the wall and focused on the way moonlight refracted from his window to the floor.
He was so f*cked.
--
Two days went by too fast. He spent the entire time being disgustingly realistic and preparing for if things went wrong. Satoru didn't do that. Things didn't go wrong, and if they went wrong it was only for a little while. It was something he could fix.
Unless it was the Star Plasma mission.
Or Haibara’s death, and Nanami dropping out.
Or Suguru leaving.
Yeah.
He refocused his attention to the dull documents at hand. The fun thing about sorcerer law was that it was utterly unrelated to the law of the land. The contract Toji put forward about Megumi would be respected by sorcerers. His legal guardianship would be respected by Japanese law. The elders and the council both loved to abuse political conflict to get their way. They'd taught him how to ruin things with the best, or worse, examples possible. He was willing to bet they thought he only knew how to bully them with his strength.
It had just been the easiest way to get what he wanted. If he had to play it this way too, he would. Everyone occasionally pissed him off by forgetting that he was also a certified genius. He was good at everything but relationships and social issues. Thankfully, the law was boring and largely objective with subjective detailing. He could work with that. If there was a bump in the road it was set up for Nanami to take care of the two, or Shoko.
Shoko didn't require much to accept. On the other hand, Nanami needed a guarantee of funding to do so. Satoru set up a bank account that day with several lifetimes worth of money to pay for the kids and an entire house in central Tokyo. Nanami wouldn't have to work if he didn't want to. It was the least he could do considering they hadn't spoken in a year and weren't the closest to begin with.
As time ticked on, he both loathed and hoped to see another message come through from Suguru. It was radio silence, and he couldn't lie to himself about the pain. There was no running from it. Satoru wished Suguru hadn't contacted him, no matter how desperate they thought the situation was. Plus, Suguru? Whatever was left of them was broken glass and acid rain. Satoru would love Suguru until he died, and Suguru would enjoy having that power over him. Had he always? Satoru didn't know anymore.
The idea of Satoru snapping and committing mass murder had been on everyone's radar at one point or another. No one doubted he had it in him. Suguru though? They were worried he was depressed, that Suguru was internalizing and going to go after himself. How wrong they'd been. Even in hindsight, Satoru was amazed at how well he hid the rage and hatred behind tired, empty eyes and a slumped posture. The cherry on top was that Suguru had the nerve to say he was fine. Satoru shouldn't have trusted him. Suguru wasn't broken like him back then. He was now.
He sat in the waiting room alone, the private clinic far fancier than a standard hospital. Satoru put so much effort into his choices, but only one out of the several dozen he picked accepted. It was not near the top of his list, but it was better than nothing or a public hospital. He sent a text before leaving to Shoko, telling her he was heading in.
‘Do what you want.’ Was her five-word reply. He'd quietly hoped she'd come with him and make mean comments about the office decor or something. It was okay though. He was used to going to things alone. Satoru was less likely to know how to handle someone being there than being alone.
Granted, normal surgery and hospitals were bizarre. Infinity kept him from them for years. It'd been over a decade since he needed practical medicine. Laying on a rolling operating bed would kindly be described as uncomfortable and honestly as terrifying. This was all out of his control. All of it. The last thought he had before going under was in fear of regretting his choice. It was too late for that though. What was done, was done.
Did he subconsciously know it would go bad? Satoru questioned himself upon waking in a haze, drugs still gently coursing through his veins. Maybe he made this choice in some sick sense of masochism, a punishment for his failures. There was no other reason he was so damn stupid. Why didn't anyone try harder to convince him? He couldn't be that resistant to input, could he?
Except he could, and Satoru damn well knew it.
He expected a lot of things if it went wrong. This one was not particularly high on his list. It was an afterthought at best. Satoru looked around the room, holding onto the bed frame to keep himself from swaying. His hand rubbed against his head in an attempt to wipe away the fog hanging over him. At least he wasn't bound, but there were wide black stripes around his wrists and ankles that were suspicious.
Satoru felt horribly stupid he fell for the same thing twice. He underestimated a non-sorcerer who was being paid or somehow controlled by a sorcerer. He was unconscious long before reaching the operating room, where he wasn't sure if anything was done about the shrapnel in his shoulder and neck. There were fresh bandages over it, but he still lacked powers and had no idea if the wounds were healed.
As he stood to look around the room, he realized that there wasn't a door, but there were similar black marks in a dashed shape of doors on the walls. There were no windows either, but he would give props to the fake TVs that were debossed into the wall to look like them. The room was painted a gray-blue color and had the vibe of a rather nice, but small, hotel room. If he were less aware, he'd have thought it was his recovery room. Satoru instantly knew that wasn't the case.
He found a full-length mirror and stopped in front of it to gauge his status. He had a long casual yukata, light blue, for clothing. No shoes or slippers, no sunglasses. He could see the fresh bandages peeking from the yukata opening but found no others. They were wrapped more thoroughly than his previous ones. The wrappings went all the way up his neck and then diagonally across his chest and back. Nothing hurt, which he guessed was a good sign.
There was nothing to entertain him here though. It was nice but barren. A bed, a small dresser, an even smaller table, and two chairs that were with the table. No books, no TV, no nothing else. This was a bad sign comparatively. He didn't see any way to make food or an indication for a bathroom. The sorcerer checked the low-set dresser, but there was nothing inside the two drawers. He found himself sitting at the table pensive. Someone would greet him, eventually.
Satoru was right, and it was sooner than later.
“Finally, the room service here is terrible, y’know,” Satoru's sharp blue eyes rolled over to see the dashed bricks move backward and create a door. So that was how it worked. It told him a decent amount about the technique he was dealing with, or at least one of them.
“Sorry to disappoint, I hope you won't leave any poor reviews,” Answered a gruff and amused voice. The silhouette appeared in the doorway and Satoru squinted at the middle-aged man, holding a cigarette. He had not a f*cking clue who he was. Then again, there were more curse users than sorcerers at any given time.
“Definitely leaving a two-star everywhere I can find,” he answered, analyzing the man to the best of his ability-- which was lacking horribly right now. As it stood, there wasn't much for him to see other than the man in the black suit with some scruff on his sharp-eyed face. His defining feature was the scar across his head, careful stitches running across it.
“We haven't met directly,” He leaned in the door frame as the bricks closed in on themselves,” To you, I'm Shui Kong. I was Fushigoro Toji's handler until, well, you killed him. He was hardly my only client though. When I had an opening, I took on Geto Suguru. It was a lot more fun to help him start that little cult.”
Satoru stood up in a rage-filled flash, and his chair knocked over with a loud clang,” What do you want? I figure you can have some last words before I kill you.” The connections this man had sat with him in the worst ways, and it was obvious there was something else he was hiding.
“...Without any cursed energy?” He asked head tilting to the side. His captor walked in without worry, and plopped down on the edge of the bed comfortably,” Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I'm here to bask in my victory while you're awake.”
“Then you're behind the gun too?” Satoru sneered, his hands flexing and twitching. He may not have cursed energy, but he wasn't physically weak by any means. Arrogance could still be the f*ckers downfall.
“Yep~” The imposter nodded, grinning sleazily,” I wanted to see how you were handling the surgery, which seems to be well enough. You healed yourself shockingly fast. Very impressive.”
“What can I say, I'm the model for the perfect specimen,” Satoru sneered, a forced smile on his face as his eyes raked over the curse user and the area for an opening. He only needed one.
“Ha, a specimen you are for sure,” he hummed,” I thought about surprising you with your new future, but you were so active in your sleep during the operation, I figure you're an overthinker. It'll be more fun to let you sit in it.”
“Don't be too sure. You're one millisecond from me having access to my powers and death,” Gojo threatened, serious but playful as he started to stalk the room with his eyes on Shui.
“I've taken a lot of measures to manage that, but there is just one more I need to set up,” His captors' gaze darkened, smirk shrinking to a small upturn at the edge of his lips. Shui stood, and Satoru kept himself at the maximum possible distance, which was hard in a small room with minimal walking space.
He shifted himself into a close combat stance as the curse user chuckled to himself in amusem*nt,” I had a whole other, much harder, plan in place to be able to do this--- but I happened to have luck on my side this time. I've been longing to see your defeated, frightened face.”
Satoru's wrists stuck together tight, right at the black bands. He knew it. The sorcerer growled angrily as his body was slammed against the wall without Shui laying a single touch on him. There were similar marks on his knees, more aesthetic than the simple ones on his wrists and ankles, and Satoru was willing to bet there were more in other locations as well.
He was forced to kneel, arms held behind his back in a straight line as if attached to the ground. Furious blue glared up at the man, his teeth bared and snarling as Shui slowly walked closer. He bent down into a casual squat in front of the angry sorcerer. “Y'know, convincing Toji to bitch you was one of the easiest things on earth,” he laughed and put the cigarette out by pressing it into Gojo’s knee.
The bound sorcerer took a sharp breath but held the furious stare with abandon.
“Not every alpha can do it, turns out. Kinda a rarer gene, like hair color or eyes, which you know all about. Set him up with plenty of people who wanted it done willingly. Pays good,” the curse user said, seemingly way too caught up in fascination with the ability and testing it,” but you were the last try at it, and ah, what a lovely success it was.”
A rough hand grabbed his jaw, dodging the snap of Satoru's fangs. It squeezed as Shui fished out a long tube, wrapped in seals. He twirled it in his hand and delighted in the way Satoru's eyes followed the item.
“My next study will be just as interesting and fun, I'm sure.”
The hand on his jaw squeezed until it forced Satoru's mouth open and he tilted his head back as far as it could go until those crystal blue eyes were pointed at the ceiling. Shui stood but kept his grip firm on Satoru's face. The younger couldn't see but heard the sound of unwrapping paper and a pop of a plastic tube top. The open tube was held steady over his gaping mouth. Satoru thrashed against the holds on him, but it did little to fight cursed energy with physical prowess. He'd let that fall by the wayside in favor of his technique. It was becoming a serious regret.
“It's a little shy,” Shui cooed and laughed but gently shook the tube until finally a curse appeared in the opening.
Satoru tried to look down his nose, the blurred sight of something green in his vision. Vines? It slipped more out of the container and he could see it was more like a fat, thick, and oversized slug. He was already objective, but angry panic set in as cool slime touched his tongue. It squeezed out of the container and into his mouth headfirst. Satoru gagged but there was nowhere for anything to go with his head held in that position.
The disgusting curse filled the entirety of his mouth. Slime oozed past the corners of his lips and dribbled down his chin. He lost air as it slid into his throat, and his other needs flew out the window. Satoru gagged again as his body fought against the intruder, tears unwillingly welling up in his eyes on reflex. It did nothing to stop the curse; his body shifted methods and relaxed, allowing smoother passage. Satoru's eyes closed tight, and he tried to ignore the fingers that caressed the bulge in his throat with curious, cruel fascination.
“Mmm, this suits you more than I thought it would,” The curse user breathed slowly, his voice hot and heavy as he continued to press Satoru's throat. He gave a tentative squeeze which made the young sorcerer shudder, and proceeded to go back and forth in his touches until the curse finished its descent down his throat. “Though your old flame swallows curses far better.”
Satoru was snarling again in an instant, lurching forward as far as he could to snap at the man who laughed loudly at his enraged display,” So protective…that's pathetic for reasons you can't even fathom.” Shui slapped his cheek mocking and light as the strongest sorcerer alive was forced to look up at him, on his knees, breathing heavily as his face was covered in viscous fluids. The curse licked its lips internally but would have patience.
“That little darling is called the Limerence Curse. As of this moment, you're my own personal battery…among other things.”
Satoru spit out what he could from his mouth and wiped his face against his shoulder to clean it,” Enjoy it while it lasts before I rip you limb from limb.”
“I will,” he replied confidently, pulling the chair up from the floor and sitting in it,” You're a smart child. How familiar are you with exocannibalism?”
“By definition, since curses have an affinity for eating people for some f*cking reason,” he scowled, not thrilled where they were going with this.
“Well, it's a worldwide phenomenon, you know. The idea of eating an enemy to gain their strength. It's popular in jujutsu too, considering its proximity to curses,” Shui said, pulling the carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and tapping one into his fingers. “That's how the true strongest, stronger than you, gained his power.”
“Gonna feed me to the wolves? I bet I'm inedible. They'd get food poisoning from my body makeup,” Satoru cackled and shook his head, bangs messy and partially sticking to his forehead,” They gonna eat it raw by taking a bite? I'll enjoy watching them die in front of me.”
“We'll have to see about that, won't we? I don't care if a few curses pay me to try a piece of you and die. Not when you're a pretty little lizard and will grow it right back for another one to try,” Shui lit up the cigarette, his face shrouded in dark shadows and bright orange for a brief instant.
“Can't use RCT without cursed energy,” Satoru clucked his tongue at the other,” That's some stupid sh*t loophole right there.”
“Aha, how right you are,” He said coldly, giving the sorcerer’s chin a quick wiggle. Without further explanation, he undid the bandages and spun Satoru around. Shui ignored the hiss and let the cigarette hang in his mouth as he undid a double set of piercings, made of the same material as the shrapnel, in between Satoru's shoulder blades.
It was like his life force was returned to his body in a flash but there was a giant hole in him that it poured out of. The feeling was unsettling enough that his skin rose with goosebumps and he shivered. Empty. It was like running on empty again. The damn slug was doing something with it other than eating it, probably transferring it. Where he wasn't sure, but it couldn't be good.
“And now you have just enough to heal yourself at a snail's pace ,” the curse user snickered but pouted when Gojo looked at him with nothing but disgust and rage,” Out of witty banter already? We haven't even gotten to the best part.”
Satoru yelped in surprise but grit his teeth quickly as a fistful of his hair was grabbed to drag him forward. This f*cker was really getting off from the ability to pose him. It pissed him off.
“You might be hard to digest, grow as you are, but do you know what the worst monsters are infamously known for eating? What humans fear being eaten other than themselves? Infants.”
The dots connected too fast. Satoru blanched and gagged again to the amusem*nt of the curse holding his hair,” I can't think of a good restaurant name, but I'm eager to see the results. I already have the perfect cook in mind, and if I'm lucky, the perfect customer. How does that sound, Satoru Gojo? Dead to the world, alive to curses, and the perfect breeding mare to feed my clientele? More expensive than wagyu.”
A vile and manic grin appeared on his captor's face when he couldn't stop the horror from flickering across his face or the warbled, terrified scent of soured citrus and burnt sugar.
“And if I get bored of this one day if you make it out…I promise you, it won't be any better. Your clan just wants a new heir right? One less independent? I'll get them that too. Lord knows those elders have wanted you gone even at the cost of labor, but they don't care if people die picking up your slack, do they?”
He's shaking in rage, but also in fear. There has never been a time where he was this powerless, or someone had been smart enough to corner him so badly. Satoru tried to calm his breathing, which felt ice cold in his chest. He needed to get out of this or die trying.
“See you tomorrow for opening day,” Shui mocked, his laugh echoing against the brick room,” I'm curious to see just how high the bids go to have you first. Thanks for staying untouched until now.”
“I'm going to f*cking kill you.”
“Sure you will.”
