Archive of Our Own

Calloused and rough, a hand pressed his wrists into the wall and formed a dent in it. Choso grit his teeth as his bones dug into the old cement. He wanted to physically release his terror, but forced the urge to vomit and scream down. It wouldn’t end well if he did. His muffled sobs were the only evidence of his pain. 

He stared into the eyes of his abuser, wretched and evil. They were everything he'd ever come to hate. The pain coursing through his veins was immense, inhumane—enough to send a sane man into mad land. The way his face twisted in pain only served to increase the glee dancing in the other's eyes. He was barely held together, holding on by a thread, only because this was the better of two options.

Kenjaku smiled—twisted, lopsided, and never quite right, devoid of any genuine happiness. He took hold of Choso's jaw with his free hand and pressed hard, crushing his bony finger into Choso's teeth. 

"Enjoying this much, Choso?"

At his words, Choso feels himself come back into his body slightly.

God, he was about to puke. The way Kenjaku seemed utterly delighted about such a thing turned his stomach upside down. His sickly sweet words swish everything inside him around. He tries to focus on the scars on his forehead instead, and if his hands weren’t tied, he would've reached out and tore them himself.

Disappointed by his lack of response, Kenjaku pressed their lips together.

This sent Choso straight to the edge.

He writhed hard under the tall man's hold in a desperate attempt to free himself. A parade of begging screams rattled beneath kenjaku's lips, but they never quite made it to the surface. 

Presumably satisfied with the pathetic reaction he got out of his son, Kenjaku pulled back and wiped a long thumb along the line of his own lips, which were stretched in twisted joy.

"Couldn't you have done that from the beginning, Choso-kun?" he whispers into the curve of Choso's ear, sending a shriveling cold down his spine. "I know you like it. There's no need to hold back."

Is there no mercy left in his books? Was he going to bend the line of Choso's sanity until it's no longer recognizable? Choso would pay the remnants of his soul if it meant he could pass out right now. If there was an ounce of sympathy written on his miserable being, he was begging on his knees for a way out. 

Kenjaku bucked his hips and pressed further into him, sending jolts of liquid fire through Choso. It takes every fiber of his being to not succumb to the pain. His legs hold on by a sheer miracle. Kenjaku's rhythmic movements are anything but melodic to Choso. His sharp, digging nails tore into Choso’s skin. 

Choso couldn't breathe. His lungs felt constricted like a serpent was coiled around his ribs, squeezing the air from his chest. If measured, he's sure they'd be no larger than a pea seed. The scarcity of the oxygen in his veins nearly kills him, but never leaves him dead. Kenjaku knows this because his hand is wrapped tightly around his throat. He knows there’s going to be an ugly bruise around his throat the next rising morning.

The lack of oxygen doesn’t do anything to keep his mind in the moment. If anything, it makes it easier for him to drift in and out. 

Every time Kenjaku shoves into him, he wants to scream. He wants so, so badly to tear that bastard's face apart with his own two hands. Every time Kenjaku reaches farther up into him, he loses another piece of his soul.

Intense, liquified, unadulterated pain runs through Choso's veins. It burns hot inside him. His flesh melt under the sheer pain it's forced into. When Kenjaku forces himself in, a few tears escape his eyes in a pathetic streak. Kenjaku leans forward to leave a kiss on his parted, dried lips. He's about to puke.

"You chose this, Choso-kun," he says, hanging on Choso's lower lip like the gardens of Babylon. "So don't villainize me, okay?"

No matter how twisted or disgusting it is, he's right. Choso knows he's absolutely right— were time to repeat itself, he wouldn't change a thing. He would make the same choices. He would allow Kenjaku to do this to him, over and over and over. His gut twists at how loathsome he is. 

This, no matter how abhorrent it feels, is the best it can get. This is the only thing Choso can do to keep the monster that is Kenjaku at bay—away from his treasure, the center of his universe. 

He pushes another heavy thrust into his son's body, which earns him a choked sob, fighting its way through his suffocating grip. The crooked smile never leaves his face. 

Kenjaku had hinted at visiting Yuji on more than one occasion. It always stirred something unpleasant in the pit of Choso's stomach. When he outright threatened Choso with doing such a thing as touching Yuji in that way, he fell to his knees at the horrid confession. 

The only thing he could think of was to offer himself instead. Anything to keep that bastard away from his beloved little brother. 

He can't let Yuji experience this soul crushing pain. It would destroy him. But Choso was already broken beyond repair, so what's there to lose? He meant it when he said he would go to hell and back for Yuji.

But there's always a limit to be reached.

Choso never claimed to be the strongest. He never once deemed himself a legendary sorcerer. He is but a failed experiment in the expanse of Kenjaku's centuries-old plans, and he's been a pawn in his hands ever since. Choso is not a hero. He's only been trying his best.

If there was hell in the afterlife waiting for him, he got to take a taste of it now. Never has he imagined pain like this to exist. It was vile, heinous. It tore through his skin and flesh, right to the very bone. It left him in shambles, unable to gather himself again. For the sake of him, he couldn't stay in the present moment any longer.

Through Kenjaku's excruciating movements and unbearable grip, through the agony he cast upon him, Choso looked through to the other side of this hell, right past Kenjaku's nasty grin and behind these old, mouldy walls. What awaited him was a lovely brother who healed him just by a smile, whose very existence glued Choso back together into something semi-functional. He would do everything in his power to preserve that innocence and his bright sunlight, even if it meant withstanding this torture a thousand times. 

Kenjaku moves his mouth across his neck, biting and drawing blood. He pulls at his hair to get a reaction. He chokes him for fun. Choso still cries. It still hurts. It reverberates through his entire being and shakes his soul, but deep down, he's looking forward to the peace past this agonizing storm, to the only person who cares about him.

Minutes stretch into hours, hours stretch into eternities. He doesn't know when, but he's finally left alone in the deafening silence to suffer. Tears race down his cheeks as he lays there. His clothes are torn with wide gaping holes. They smell pungent. He's bleeding down his thighs, where blood oozes out generously. And if he even dares to crack a move, he'll break down in agony. His body is red. It feels red. It's littered with cuts and bruises and it aches in every corner from being torn open. His muscles are sore all over. Various parts across his body are throbbing with white hot pain. And what now, it's night? It was just the beginning of sunset when they began. He really took his time with Choso, didn't he?

Broken shards of a forgotten mirror glisten in the dark of the alleyway, and he catches a glance of his reflection. He's ugly, hideous, absolutely pathetic. He can't bear to look at himself any longer. He looks so disgustingly ugly, like an abomination that barely resembles a human. 

And it runs deeper than just looks. He *feels* ugly, rotten all the way to the core. He's been forever tainted by Kenjaku's filth, and no amount of water could ever wash it away. He's in a desperate need to scratch his skin raw, to claw every trace of decay out of this body. 

The morning comes, and Choso is dragging his feet across the ground, the heavy limp ruining his gait. He clenches his teeth as he struggles for air. There's a nasty bruise on his chest that lights on fire with every breath he takes. That absolute fucker must've done something to stop his healing abilities. He wanted Choso to suffer for as long as possible. 

Finally, he makes it to a calm river that flows through an isolated forest. It is rare for people to come across this area, as he's come to know. He stumbles to the bank and falls with no grace to the ground. As he lays there, desperate for a moment of slumber, the sun tickles his face and chases away any chance at sleep. All those years of being locked up in the hidden inventory has finally caught up to him. He hates the bright light of this star. 

And yet, even while he's wide awake, it takes every fiber of him to do so much as move. He has to fight hard to get up and get his clothes off. Choso dunks himself into the river without any more thought. 

It is far from comforting, anything but warm despite the bright sun. It freezes his organs in ice and grazes the edges of his heart with frost. Yet it stops every and all thoughts from talking any further. For a moment, the world goes deathly silent. If a pin dropped on the other side of the universe, he would hear it. 

He closes his eyes. 

Here, underneath the water, there's nothing. Only void embraces him whole. 

But then he has to breathe. 

He breaks past the surface again, sucking in hard for air. 

Choso looks down at his hands. They are far, far away. They're strange and they're... not his. They don't feel like his, even when he clenches them close and jerks them open. He has no connection to those things. He trails his eyes up alien arms and towards his supposed chest and torso. They don’t belong to him. They can't be his. For the love of everything that is holy, those scars can't be his. Ugly, ugly scars tarnish this body. It can't be his. It can't. It can't. It can't. It *just* can't!

Urgently, he rummages through the pile of clothes on the bank until he finds a cloth to wash himself. Choso submerges himself in the water, then rises back up. He rubs the cloth over his—*that* torso. 

He rubs it because he needs to prove it's not his. Yet he can feel the cloth rubbing fiercely against his skin. He scrubs harshly, determined to prove himself wrong. But he can feel it. 

It stings and it burns. He rubs harder till his skin burns red. He hates that it's true. That this is the ruined body he'll be forever locked in. He scrubs away the dirt, but the scars never leave. 

Every inch of his skin is abused by the washcloth. In his maze of thoughts, he breaks his skin open. His legs, his arms, his chest, even his face, break open and bleed. But the blood is the last of Choso's concerns. 

The fact that this is *his* body crushes him. He has to make peace with the thing he'll be spending eternity in. This broken thing, the thing Kenjaku has forever tainted. It is irreversibly corrupted from inside and out and it belongs to *him*. *This* is his own skin and bone. *This* is the flesh he feels and the blood that runs through him. He's a freak. A hideous, horrible, horrible freak. 

All air dissipates away from those cursed lungs, and he's left to suffocate in the midst of his spiraling panic. 

This body is his, and there's nothing he can do about it. There's no escape.

Choso thinks himself a freak. 

Even when there's no filth on his skin and he smells clean, even when all evidence of Kenjaku has left, he's still a freak. 

***

Choso's eyes grew heavier as they spoke. The dark circles under his eyes, which he blamed on the cursed part of him, seemed like they were turning a deeper shade of purple the longer they talked. They aged his face a miserable lifetime. Yuji couldn't help but point it out. 

"Are you okay, Choso?"

He jerked his eyes open and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine."

As if. He looked the farthest from convincing with his hollow cheeks and ghastly skin. He wouldn't be told apart from a corpse if he kept going like this. Yuji frowned. He at least ought to know what was going on when he wasn't with his brother. 

"You're not okay, Choso," he pushed. "Do you need to sleep?"

There was a brief flame of fight in Choso's eyes, and just as he was about to deny, he changed his mind at the last moment. "Yeah... I haven't slept."

Yuji gently pushed Choso towards his bed. It was a humble mattress that the school offered, but it would provide the rest Choso so desperately lacked. He was caught by surprise when Choso recoiled from his touch and whipped his head around in utter terror. He disguised his panic with a ruffle to Yuji's hair, though, and climbed into the bed.

It hurt that his brother reacted that way to his own touch. Wasn't he always eager to hug Yuji back when they met just a few months ago? When did this change? He doesn't remember the last time Choso reached out to him on his own accord. 

Faster than a blink, Choso was knocked out already. He must've been really desperate for some rest. What kept him up at night?

The more he thought about it, the more Choso's behavior has been strange recently. Yuji's line of thought could trace it back to weeks ago. But it's only now getting noticeably worse.

There was a glassy sheen on his eyes, one Choso carried wherever he went. It looked ghostly, like he wasn't really there. Even amidst conversation, as his mouth ran, his eyes stared ahead of him, far away from where he stood. His mind trailed off to somewhere else. He wasn't really there in the same space as Yuji.

It drove Yuji insane because Choso wasn't nearly this passive just two weeks ago. One thing Yuji loved dearly about his big brother was how expressive he was. The way his face lit up when he saw Yuji made something warm flutter in his stomach.

But now, now Choso held an expression of melancholy across his features, deeply ingrained into the details of his face. A gloomy burden loomed over his shoulders and weighed him down, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

And he does try to hide it. Yuji can tell. Choso tries his best to be present with him and give him his undivided attention as best as he can, yet at moments like this, he gets eaten up in the labyrinth of his mind. Yuji knows it isn’t pretty. Something horrible *horrible* happened to Choso, and Yuji was scared to find out what it was exactly. 

It consumed him in his waking moments and stole his sleep. Yuji doesn't remember the last time he saw Choso eat something. He always refused food, saying his stomach hurt or that he already ate. A big, fat lie. Choso was bone covered with skin at this point. 

Whatever it was, it was eating Choso alive and Yuji had to find out what it was. He had to be there for Choso the same way Choso was there for him all those times. Choso was fighting a strong monster on his own and, frankly, it was winning. Yuji would be damned if he doesn't help him.

***

Choso limps across the deserted street. His gait is heavy and awkward and he's barely stopping himself from turning around and running far, far away. Hissing a sharp breath in, he digs his nails into the stone wall of the street he walked. It's old and damp, feels cold under his freezing fingertips. 

Freezing. 

Shivers run down his spine as he wraps his other arm tightly around himself, desperate for even a speck of heat. His fingers turn purple at the edges. His body soaks up the cold like a sponge.

He's cut off from his miserable trance by a dangerous smile and an unnerving tilt of a voice. 

"Choso-kun," a voice greets, and a violent flinch shakes Choso's frame. The smile stretches wider. 

Choso knows the drill by now. It's a routine unwillingly etched into his mind. He stands in front of Kenjaku's unshakable grin and keeps his eyes on the ground. His hands are wringed around themselves in a bone breaking hold. His bones breaking are far from the worst things to happen to him that night. Kenjaku is barely a few centimeters taller, but Choso feels so, so small. He's a defenseless child all over again, but his mother is nowhere to hold him this time. 

Kenjaku leans in and cups the sharp edge of his jawline, planting a kiss that’s anything but loving to his lips. It's Choso's cue to start. He takes a deep, grounding breath before he falls to his knees. The force of his knees hitting the ground rattles his head, and all he sees is his father's towering form over him. All willpower he's gathered evaporates into thin air. 

His hand shakes with cowardice as he reaches up to the waistline of Kenjaku's pants and hooks his fingers around it. He pulls his pants down and promptly takes Kenjaku into his mouth. He takes in as much as he can and he tries so hard to stop all thoughts about what’s happening. If he doesn't think too hard about it, it'll end quickly. He doesn't need to see himself in this moment, what he's come to be. He's already become Kenjaku's whore a long time ago.

Kenjaku pulls his hair undone, letting it fall to his shoulders from its pigtails style. He grabs a handful and yanks him forward. Choso chokes and coughs, but Kenjaku doesn't relent. He doesn't care. He doesn't give a single fuck about Choso. He bobs Choso's head back and forth, scratching the back of his throat raw. 

His gaze blurred, the world around him dissolving into a watery mirage as he struggled to breathe through the torture in his mouth. His hands clenched around the other man's legs, a vain attempt to steady the quiver of his body and push his predator away.

It didn't work. All Choso saw was the unrelenting smirk of twisted glee and flashes of hell on the edges of his peripherals. Hellfire doesn't sound bad at all. At this very moment, it shines like heaven. 

He's ready to die anyway. He wishes he'd choke him enough for his soul to leave his body. This *is* eternal torture. He reaches his hand out to the hallucinated salvation of burning inferno, but a cold, cruel hand holds his instead, the one he's come to hate with all that he existed with. 

He's violently brought back to reality. Through his falling tears and muffled sobs, he forms a gurgle that distantly resembles a word. Kenjaku takes notice of his attempt to talk. He pulls away from Choso with an amused spark in his eyes. 

"What is it?" He smiles. "I hope you know you stopped at a good moment."

"Please...." Choso can barely talk. It takes every drop of strength left in him. "Enough."

"Oh, this is it?" He leans down so he's eye level with Choso. "I thought you loved our little game. You know, you asked for this yourself. I can't just let you go. I love you, Choso-kun." He wipes a tear off Choso's cheek with the back of his hand. It's gentle and soft in all the ways it shouldn't be.

"Kill me," Choso pleads, begs on his knees. He can't stay in this tormenting agony a moment longer.

"But I'm not done with you yet. My bad, I got too attached, *son.*"

He doesn't waste any more time conversing with Choso. Instead, he fills his mouth again, but this time more volatile and hungry. Blood stings from the bruising force going against his throat and dribbles out the corners of his mouth. 

This time the loud, *happy* laugh of Kenjaku rings through his mind. He's laughing like everything he's ever worked for came to fruition before him, like Choso's pain was his end goal all along. 

It's a battleground in Choso's mouth. Bile rises up at the terrible, terrible realization. It mixes with the blood oozing freely and Kenjaku's fluids that eject like a bullet. It just had to at this moment. Choso was never a lucky creature. He chokes on the horrible mixture, unable to take a shred of air in. Kenjaku forces his head still and watches as he struggles to breathe. He has no choice but to swallow it down. There's no trace of his dignity left. His honour dissipates like smoke in the air.

"What the hell is going on‽" Yuji asks.

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Choso woke up shortly after that. He shot up awake, startled and breath heavy. He scanned the room, terrified like a wild animal. His panicking startled Yuji in return and he almost tossed the controller from his hands. He had picked up a videogame to play while Choso slept. 

"Choso, what is it?"

Choso didn't answer him. He didn't speak at all. 

After the question processes, Choso is snapped out of his trance and he hurries to mask his fear stricken face. He gives Yuji a smile that feels so painfully stitched to his face, a haphazard attempt to hide his pain away, but Yuji won't let him. Not this time. 

Choso doesn't stay for long. He scurries away the first chance he gets, and it tugs at Yuji's heart sorrowfully. His brother doesn't want to spend time with him anymore. But he knows better.

As soon as Choso leaves out the window, he dashes after him down the old stairs of the school. 

A part of Yuji has always been curious as to where Choso dwindles between their fleeting meetings. He always seemingly appears from nowhere.

He follows where Choso strays and it leads him to a beautiful forest. The glow of the afternoon sun gives it a soft, whimsical aura. The forest, away from the city and its noice, wraps Yuji in a quiet bubble. 

Choso lays down on the mushy ground. The grass tickles his face and his breathing is calm but hitching, as if there was a broken rib stirring his peace. Yuji's heart wrings in around itself. He follows suit and sits on the grass, leaning his head against an old, moist tree trunk. Ridges and stray splinters poke his back, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He has more important matters at hand. 

He had been in Choso’s vicinity for almost an hour now and his brother was yet to even take notice of him. It was like Yuji was an invisible ghost to him, blending into the background of his life and in the shadow of more pressing things. Much like how Choso had been to him back when they were strangers. He had thought of him no more than a nuisance that appeared in his stall moments. What if this was Choso's view of him now?

He chose not to go down that line of thought. 

The silence that befalls them turns the running of time fast. It passes by as a gust of wind brushing Yuji's cheek. He can't tell how long it had been when Choso gathered himself and stood up. There's a limp lilting his gait. His stance is wobbly and Yuji reaches out into the air to almost hold him. His better judgement stops his instinct. The corners of Choso's face are folded into a permanent, scared frown, his eyes glassy and brows quivered.

It's early evening, and the streets are fresh with a summer shower. An earthy smell hugs the dust of the ground. It's far from cold, but Choso is shivering like a leaf. His paper thin clothes don't offer any consolation. The place Choso leads them to is deserted, empty from any trace of life. The breath of greedy curses lingers over Yuji's shoulder, making him shiver.

He tries his best to look past them and focus on his brother. For the life of him, Choso hadn't even turned around to spare him a look. How can't he not notice Sukuna's vile, sour cursed energy in this vast emptiness? Choso was so caught up in his head. 

It's no longer a vast emptiness when Choso turns around the corner and there's a man standing there at the head of an alleyway. Immediately, Yuji's senses flare up. This man is dangerous. He knows it in his bones, by his heart. He has never met this man, but his irredeemable deeds are carved somewhere between where Yuji's spirit meets his bones. His vile aura Is forever stitched to Yuji's soul. The pit of his stomach falls into infinity. 

Yuji doesn't take a step further. He can't. His body is drenched in ice cold water. He stays planted by the corner, peeking his head just enough to see. Even though he knows he can't be seen from here, that man looks past Choso and right at him. He gives Yuji a tilted, *knowing*, smirk. 

This is the end. The man is going to charge at him and end his life. His instincts tell him to run. But he doesn't. The man doesn't even acknowledge his presence any more than this. He zeroes in on Choso again.

"Choso-kun," He greets and his voice is smooth, unnerving. It feels robotical, like it wasn't a human speaking. Choso keeps his eyes to the ground, head bowed in submission. His hands are tightly held together, Yuji can see his knuckles turning white. 

The man takes hold of Choso's face and leans in to plant a kiss on his lips. Yuji's stomach falls to his knees. It twists and churns and he's about to puke. Is this Choso's boyfriend? He doesn't like him, and from the looks of it, neither does Choso.

His brother gets on his knees in front of that man and he-

*What in the unforgiving hell is this?*

The world fractures. It goes deathly silent at this this very moment. Everyone on earth and their affairs dissipate into thin air. If a pin drops on the other side of the universe, Yuji will hear it loud and clear. 

And then it knits itself back together. 

It is as instantaneous as it is unnerving how much emotion surges inside of him when he witnesses Choso in such a position, his mouth full of things he never thought he'd see Choso do. Sukuna laughs in his mind. It's cruel and manic and he gets disgustingly high on Yuji's pain and shock. His insides are submerged in ice cold water then pureed into a stinky pulp. They climb up his esophagus and threaten to spill out his mouth. It takes every bit of strength Yuji has gathered since he ate that cursed finger to steady himself. His breaths are decorated by shaky tremors and cold sweat. 

There's streaks of tears streaming down Choso's face. He looks utterly destroyed. He doesn't want to be here. So why isn't he fighting back? Does he like it? Yuji knows that Choso is stronger than him by light years, ancient clan techniques and what not. He could just push this man away and get out of here, so why in the ever loving fuck isn't he?

Somewhere in this twisted chaos, a weak, strangled gurgle sounds out. Such an ugly, mangled attempt at speech shouldn't belong to Choso. But it does and the man responds, annoyed at being interrupted. Yuji fights himself not to punch the bastard. 

"Please..." Choso forces through a hoarse voice and an undoubtedly sore throat. "Enough."

Yes, for the love of everything that is holy, enough. Yuji can't take this anymore. Any heavenly mercy bestowed upon them, he would take it.

The man crouches down so he's eye level with Choso. "I thought you loved our little game. You know, you asked for this yourself. I can't just let you go. I love you, Choso-kun." 

His knuckles rub away a stray tear off Choso's cheek. The fake kindness burns away to reveal nasty pleasure and haunting emptiness.

*"I love you, Choso-kun."*

It's so anything but love. This incomprehensible, sour sort of bond. These words ring cursed affection around them.

"Kill me," Choso pleads in his pain and misery. He looks thoroughly done to the end of his being. Yuji can see the trace marks of long nights of lost sleep and silent cries. They shine with this man's touch. 

Yet the way Choso so easily asks for death like it's the only way out shatters Yuji through and through. This is the remnants of a broken soul and no amount of love could ever piece it together again. The cracks this absolute monster left in Choso would never heal, even if time went still and they hid in the cracks of its old embrace forever. Choso would be stuck in these moments for however long he has left on this earth.

"But I'm not done with you yet. My bad, I got too attached, *son.*"

His taunts are tasteless. They no longer faze Yuji. But the word son rings a heavy weight around them. It tastes bitter enough for Yuji to spit it out. It feels so, so wrong in all the ways things can't be right. This is the worst lie, taunt, joke to ever use. He hopes it is a lie or a taunt or a joke and this man is not the father Choso has hinted at in the past. Yuji hopes with all he has he's not. 

But his prayers are never answered. 

There’s a single brief moment where time stands still -- a second pulled taut and spread thin, like surface tension on a cup of water about to spill over. Every part of his body is coiled to run, like a spring ready to unwind. But he stays perfectly still. Like the instinct has been trained out of him to watch where this nightmare ends. 

But the man resumes his actions. Choso hair is being pulled like an animal. His tears don't stop. His head is forced to move to that disgusting being's rhythm. The instinct wins and Yuji can no longer stop himself. 

 It’

s overflowing, and Yuji steps forward, speaking, "What the hell is going on‽"

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Yuji's voice cuts through all of the uproar in Choso's mind. He would recognize that voice with his two ears cut off and half of his mind burned away. His blood runs cold in his veins. Can he ever run out of unluckiness?

He looks to the side where Yuji stands and Yuji looks back at him. All pain coursing freely through him is long forgotten. The slimey, sour residue of shame sits heavy in Choso's chest. 

In this moment, all he wishes for is for the ground to crackle apart and swallow him whole, because he'd rather go through endless nights of this torture than have his brother see him in such a state, with his mouth full of the disgusting length, giving deep throat. This is beyond humiliation. Choso has done everything in his power to prevent Yuji from seeing such things and it all fell fruitless in front of him, all he can do is stare right back at Yuji, helplessness heavy in his eyes and his tears doubling and racing to fall one after the other. Now Yuji sees him as nothing more than a despicable whore. 

Kenjaku turns to Yuji, a dangerous glint in his narrow eyes. His smile tilts the air between them, pulls it down. "Yo, Yuji-kun," He pulls at Choso's hair, yanking him forward. He chokes, struggling for air as it pierces through his throat. "Hisashiburedane."

"Wh-who the hell are you?" Yuji askes, his voice thick with terror. There's a small tremor to his figure as he struggles to keep himself together.

"Eh?" Kenjaku is at an all time high. "Choso-kun didn't tell you about me?" 

Choso shakes his head abruptly, violently. His eyes beg Kenjaku to stay silent. Yuji doesn't need to know that this asshole is their father. It would ruin him. Kenjaku looks down at him like he's the filth of a past mistake. His eyes harden and as Choso struggles to get away. He yanks Choso closer, making him choke and gurgle.

"I'm your father, Yuji," He opens his arms wide, letting go of Choso and inviting Yuji to hug. How mocking. Choso is left to cough on the ground, sucking air sharply. 

Yuji's blood runs cold. The center of his universe shifts. The shock rolls off him in waves. He doesn't say anything. Kenjaku adjusts his pants, smiling at him. His arms are wide open as he walks towards Yuji. In another universe, without the blood and bruise, it would be lovely. A father reuniting with his favorite son.

His hand reaches out to brush Yuji's neck and before he gets the chance, a flash of red dashes between them, leaving a small cut on Kenjaku. Yuji snaps out of his shock and takes a few steps back.

Blood manipulation. Choso had used blood manipulation because even if his soul was on the edge of hell, teetering over death, he would never, ever let that fucker touch Yuji. Even if it would kill him. 

A wracking cough tears his raw throat, splattering splashes of blood in a twisted painting across the ground. He didn't have time to recover from what his father put him through and it was catching up to him. But that dangerous glint glazed with greedy lust in his eyes set Choso's alarm bells. They squeezed adrenaline from his cells. He would recognize that look anywhere and he'd be damned if he let Yuji fall victim to it. 

"Run, Yuji," His voice is hoarse, damaged as he reaches a desperate hand out. "Don't let him get you."

Yuji is shaken like he's never seen him before. The way his frown tugs at the corners of his face, the tremor of his lips, pulls at Choso's heart. His brother deserves to be safe. Choso can see, painfully obvious, that Yuji wants to fight back, to ask questions, but he's afraid. And he doesn't blame him. Terrified is an understatement. Terror hugs Choso like a shadow and melds into his bones. 

"Choso, I can't le-"

"Please. Run."

It is the last warning. There's still hope. He can still be enough for Kenjaku to fulfill his darkest desire. He can use Choso to his heart's desire. He wouldn't object. Just not Yuji.

An amused, happy laugh rises through the air and tears their silence. Kenjaku shakes his head, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're so endearing, Choso-kun. Just like your mother. I should've known, you're my son after all."

He turns away from Yuji, his gaze falling on Choso's shaken form on the ground. His head leans to the side and his smile stretches wider. The laugh that escapes him is disgustingly fond. "She was so, very stupid. Though I have to say, her childlike naivety was highly appreciated. It made things way easier."

Kenjaku walks towards him and crouches down. His eyes narrow the way a hunter focuses on its prey. "And when she found out about this," He gestures to the string of stitches across his forehead. "She thought she could defeat me. Do you know what happened to her, Choso-kun?" The way Choso's name rolls off his tongue is so wrong. It is a mistake that should never happen. He leans in to blow a whisper in Choso's ear, his voice light as smoke in a burning fire, suffocating. "She didn't live to see the next sunrise."

It is mere seconds before his heart caves in on itself, twisting each fiber of his being. He almost pukes out his organs. There's a small pause before the universe snaps and his soul leaves his body and when it returns, it doesn't fit right. His soul is not fitting right in its vessel of blood and veins. He falls to his knees beneath Kenjaku, choking on air, begging for oxygen. His blood splatters across the cold concrete, staining it burgundy red. It streams down the corners of his mouth and eyes. He can *feel* his blood vessels breaking open, his skin burning and soaring open. Choso clenches the ground under his fingers, wishing he could dig it away from here. His pupils are constricted, searching wildly for a way out and when he locks eyes with Kenjaku, his cold eyes shine with glee as he smiles down at Choso. 

Is he bleeding all over? He must be. But the pain is so excruciating that falling apart into pieces hardly seems like a sufficient explanation. Is this what a shattering heart and ripped soul feels like? Never before has he known anything about pain until this very moment. His entire time in captivity could never compare to this single instant.

He ruffles his hair, loving and sweet and so very wrong. He would've pushed that bastard away if he wasn't busy spewing his soul out. He tries to use blood manipulation, but the cursed energy is frozen in his arteries and the only way his blood moves is with gravity to the ground. All that comes out of him is a weak punch to Kenjaku's leg. He gives him a laugh before talking, "don't get involved in what's none of your business."

Whatever he had done to Choso has left him withering away on the ground, unable to utter a single word. This is one of Kenjaku's many techniques, acquired over the centuries, and it slowly ate away at Choso's strength.

***

Yuji is shaken out of his morbid trance when the drag of old shoes echoes the deserted alley. That man has left Choso a shell of himself on the ground, screeching in air as if his lungs were holed. And Yuji couldn't do anything about it. This vulgar display pierced an ice thorn through his heart and left him planted to the floor. 

The bottom drops out of Yuji's stomach, and he forgets how to breathe. His thoughts are tumbling all over and around each other. He wants to run over to Choso and offer him all the health he has, to wash his pain away. He wants to punch this man to the deepest pits of hell and mangle his corpse. But he can't. His organs are enveloped in freezing ice. 

He wants to remove himself from the situation before it got worse, but now it looks might be too late, and Yuji never ever ever wants anyone to feel the way he felt, feels, but he can’t, he can’t bear this, not even for Choso, he can’t endure this heavy, suffocating flow of vile cursed energy that wants so blatantly to swallow him whole…

He takes a deep breath, and like a switch turned off, his mind goes silent. He digs down deep for the strength that carried him through a hundred missions, and forces himself to stand up straight. The tremor of his muscles stops. He takes a confident stand. 

He's going to finish this man here, now. For Choso, for himself. 

His walk is disturbingly chill, like he hasn't just almost killed his dearest brother. A flickering flame of fire lights up behind Yuji's eyes, his fury fueling it. That reeling smile never falls down this man's face. 

"Who the hell are you, and what have you done to Choso‽" He asks, fists clenched in front of his face. 

"Kenjaku's the name, but you can call me papa," The sickeningly sweet lilt of his voice warbles Yuji's intestines. And this notion drives Yuji up the wall because he has no parents and now this sick bastards claims to be of his same blood.

"I have no parents. They left this world long before I can remember them." He says and his brows set deeper into his face, drawing an intense glare.

But the other man- Kenjaku, seems utterly unfazed, like he already knows this. He speaks in riddles Yuji can't comprehend. "Let's say I've lived more than one life and one of them was to create you," He's now face to face with Yuji, separated by the mere atoms of air floating between them. His hand reaches up to cup the curve of Yuji's jaw. "My favorite son, my absolute perfect creation. You are nothing like this pile of disappointment on the ground."

His touch is cold like something that should've been dead a couple thousand years ago, yet his words boil Yuji’s blood, sending it to his eyes, preventing him from seeing anything but red. He takes a step back at once. "What have you done to Choso?" He asks, seethes. Once again, it takes every fiber of his being stretched thin not to punch that man.

"I really don't get why you care so much about him, Yuji-kun. You're better than this. You have divine power within you, power Choso could never comprehend or get close to. You are Sukuna's vessel, his blood and bone embodiment in this modern world." His eyes shine brighter the more he talks. An airy sort of pride lifts his shoulders and fills his chest with glee. But he snaps out of his triumph by Yuji's lack of response. "Don't worry about him. He'll bounce back in a few days. It's just to teach him not to bite more than what he can chew. I guess he still has some grace passed down from me."

A pregnant pause is placed upon them before Kenjaku breaks it open with his thoughts. "Though I have to say, he's not totally useless, either. He knows how to put his mouth into good use and he's very tight. Not to mention, he got his mother's pretty face."

The rubber band snaps and Yuji can no longer control himself. The cogs of his brain steam with brewing anger. He closes the gap between them with a percise, clean and absolutely angry punch. 

Kenjaku stumbles back, clearly caught off guard. The corner of his lips is split open and the blood that races down his chin is the most satisfying reward Yuji could get. His face breaks into a smile but his eyes are narrowed with simmering fury. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Yuji-kun."

Logically, Yuji knows he doesn't stand a chance against this man. His energy is condensed enough to almost be seen. It would take less than thirty seconds to wipe Yuji from existence. But the earlier sight of Choso is forever burned into the wrinkles of his brain. It steels his will as he clenches his fists. He would gamble with all he had on this losing bet. If he was Kenjaku's dearest creation, he wouldn't dare hurt him, right? 

He wraps his knuckles with the etching glow of cursed energy flowing through him and throws a hit to Kenjaku's face. Though the other is smart enough not to fall into the same trap twice. He catches Yuji's hand perfectly in his, effortless as the heat of the sun. He pulls Yuji close so they're face to face once again. The air that escapes his breath is cold as it tickles Yuji's nose. This man is really a living corpse and from this close, death lingers across the skin of his face. He looks even uglier. "Just because you're my best experiment doesn't mean I can't use you." He whispers in between Yuji's lips and he's mere millimeters away.

Kenjaku twists Yuji's arm and with it his heart. All resolute he gathers pools down to the ground. His bone lets an ugly, pained crack and all he feels is intense, unblemished flashes of hot white pain. The distance between them disappears as Kenjaku's lips crash onto his in an angry, smug kiss, as if to declare his victory and dominance over Yuji. 

This is the closest Yuji had ever brushed with eternal torture and he hates, hates, hates it. He pushes Kenjaku away but the grown man is far stronger than he ever could be, even with divine gifts. He yells strings of curses and insults and panicked offenses but they all get lost in the cavity of Kenjaku's mouth. 

Then fate twists itself to a knot and Yuji is Yanked away from this suffocating grip. He takes in the air like it was the sweetest, rarest treasure he had encountered. Yuji's eyes follow a string of streaming blood pericing a hole through Kenjaku's hand that clutched Yuji. He lets go with muffled yelp and a swift curse.

Choso's barely standing on his own two legs, panting like he ran to the other side of the world and back. His hand is stretched out and shaking, emitting a stream of his blood to hit Kenjaku. "Don't touch Yuji," He says and it's equal parts weak and determined, a different type of strength coating his words. 

Kenjaku's face carves a scowl as he turns to look at Choso. It's Yuji's que to back from this hell at once. "You're a troublesome bitch, *Choso*."

"You're asking for me to put you down at this point," He strides over to Choso and midway through, he freezes in his place. A flare of angry energy escape Yuji, Kenjaku’s eyes widening in shock. It's a silent threat to not proceed any further. 

Sukuna's laugh rattle through Yuji's head and echoes the bloody champer he resides in. *You're weak,* he says. *You need me to protect you,* He repeats over and over. His laugh is maniac with glee. The demon finds this funny. *You and your pathetic brother owe me one.*

Somewhere distantly, his bones meld back together and the cracks close. 

Kenjaku turns back to Yuji and there's both a cursing glare and a prideful triumph in his hollow, dark eyes. "Seems like today's not the day. Mah, Yuji-kun, Choso-kun, you're both lucky. But we'll meet again."

A puff of smoke circles Kenjaku and he slowly withers away like he's never been. Just a figment of their imagination.

Now that the threat is gone, Choso falls to his knees once again. Yuji rushes to his side at once. 

At this angle, he can see the damage done to Choso, way beyond repair. His chest heaved with scarce air and a rib bone sticks out of his skin. Sorrow floods Yuji's own lungs, heavy and suffocating. His breath feels caught in his throat. There's marks that Yuji knows too well on Choso's neck and the visible parts of his shoulders. Purple bruises on his wrists and neck stab Yuji's eyes, mocking and glaring. His clothes are torn where they shouldn't be and his messy hair is salt to the bleeding, inflamed injury. 

He looks up at Yuji, almost drowning in the tide of relief. He smiles at him like he's his treasure, fond and loving. His gaze is very heavy that Yuji feels inclined to look away. He can't bear the weights of heavy emotions.

The implications are painfully clear now. There's no place for question marks and maybes. This bastard Kenjaku ruined Choso, tainted him with touch. And knowing Choso, he kept silent for Yuji. He kept carrying this burden alone. Lord knows for how long it's been going on. He kept going even when he was one push away from collapsing, all for the sake of Yuji. And it was all his fault. If he was stronger and sharper, he could've protected his big brother and Choso wouldn't have to shoulder this on his own. He doesn't want to but he forces himself to look at his crimes and failures and shortcomings.

For a brief moment, with Choso's help, he's let himself believe that the world isn’t as fucked up as it always seemed. But now, his eyes are open again; he's still as useless as ever, and this world is hell. It has always been and always will be.

Kenjaku threw him out as if he was a piece of garbage. That’s what he was to him, wasn’t it? That’s what they both are to him.

Still, he can’t force himself to say anything, fearing that it will trigger the ugly sob that sits deep in his chest. Each heartbeat ached deep, and sounded like an avalanche in his ears.

"I'm glad you're alright," Choso pulls him back to reality, voice hoarse and barely there. There's still blood smearing his face. 

"Let's... Let's get home," Is all Yuji can say without falling apart and crying beside Choso. That's the la

st thing he needs. He pulls Choso up to his knees and they're both shaking volatile. He wraps Choso's arm around his shoulder. 

The minutes stretch into hours that he can't see an end to. Like a tape stuck on repeat, their walk home feels stagnant and eerie. No soul walks the streets beside them and fear follows their shadow. The hairs on Yuji's neck never sit down. It's a constant loop of walking in terror until they hit replay and they're back to square one again. But of course, this is just Yuji's mind playing tricks on him with a broken sense of humor and the only thing that ever replays is the dark memories of the night in his head. 

An eternity later, they see their destination over the horizon.

The school gates are open but no one's standing there. They must've taken notice of his absence. It's the break of dawn by the time they arrive and he thanks the high heavens that no one else is outside at this moment. He passes through the gate and paddes across the hallways, careful not to cause any commotion. Choso tries his best to suppress his pained winces and groans. They arrive at the door to his room and he opens it and enters before closing it again. 

Choso doesn't object much, if at all, when he lays him down on the bed. He curls in on himself and turns his back to Yuji, to the world. Like this, his guard is falling down and he looks utterly and completely defeated, down to the very bone. His eyes carry a devastated, far away look. In the safety that wraps them, the true Choso comes out. Yuji hates it. 

He turns to look away before the sight crushes him and he sees his phone on the bedside table. He clicks it open and there's hundreds of massages and notifications and missed calls flooding it. Nobara and Megumi had been ringing him up for hours. Then Gojo-sensei tries calling him on every social media app he has. He can even see some calls and texts from Nanamin, Ieri-san, and Ijichi-san. Second year students were also worried by their frantic massages. It clicks then that he'd been gone for almost 12 hours with no trace. They went searching for him. It's at this moment that Yuji realizes that he really is loved. If he went missing, there'd be people to go and search for him. If he were to die, he'd have people to mourn and miss him. But Choso... Choso has no one but Yuji, and amidst his suffering, Yuji almost failed to notice until it was too late. The gesture of his friends is equally endearing and painful. 

He sends a quick text to Gojo-sensei, informing him of his safe return before discarding the phone again. Sensei would let the others know soon enough. But before they return to the school and give him a headache inducing earful, he had to care for Choso. 

Yuji gets up and goes to the common bathrooms, where it's mostly made up of showers but there's a few private bathtubs for when they want to treat themselves. He turns on the hot water and lets it fill the tub. Back in his bedroom, he stirs Choso awake from his soulmen slumber and Choso is all but helpful in getting up. He gets it. He too feels like every muscle in his body has been chewn raw then spitten on the ground and stomped on. He leads Choso to the bathtub and Choso's hesitation to strip fails to escape his watching gaze. Something in Yuji breaks further.

He offers to leave Choso to his privacy and he refuses. He doesn't know if it's courtesy of Choso's nature or if he really wants him to stay. He doesn't question it. Finally, his older brother submerges in the water and closes his eyes. He just stays still for a moment. The heat of the rising steam sways their thoughts and fears away. For a moment, Yuji closes his own eyes and forgets why they're here. He can almost ignore the signs of torture and invasion littered Choso's inner thighs. His big brother just needed a treat, he tells himself. 

But Choso moves in the water and breaks that lie with his haunted eyes. It's no use running away from the ugly truth. 

He helps Choso wash, gently scrubbing his skin and washing away the dirt and sin. His touch is a gentle caress to Choso's aching body, streaming away his blood and bruise. He leaves gentle touches on Choso's back, sweet traces to his neck and shoulder. He gives him a massage, kneading through the knots of pain and shame. Choso heaves a sigh and melts under his touch. He lets the water overtake his mind. 

Yuji brushes away the dirt from Choso's hair. It's dirty and matted and he does his best to return it's previous glorious luster. He doesn't stop until it's silky smooth again.

"Thank you," Choso says and it almost gets lost even in the silence. "I... didn't want to cut it."

"It's beautiful, so don't even think about it." He jokes to lighten the mood, but it falls heavy. 

"Yeah, he said it reminded him of my mother. He wanted to ruin it."

Yuji stops short in his tracks. The anger that resided in him rises full force. It shifts the air in the room. He clenches his fist against the hair brush and it lets a weak squeal. Choso looks up at him in apologitic eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say something like that."

His eyes soften once more and he lets the heavy sadness take place of his futile anger. "I'm not angry at you. I could never be."

After that, Yuji takes a well deserved bath of his own and they both change into a comfortable hoodie and sweatpants of Yuji's. Choso goes back to his room and Yuji heads to the kitchen. He's thankful when he finds lots of left overs from the day. He heats up ramen and brews some of Kugisake's expensive, bougie tea.

Yuji goes back to his- *their* room. Choso would be staying there for a while. No way in hell is he leaving Choso alone. He sets the food and the tea on the bedside table.

Choso looks at the food and there's conflict written all over his face. By now, Yuji had learned to read him pretty well. He's torn between his inability to stomach any sort of nutrition, and discrediting Yuji's effort in making him food. The cogs in his brain steam up. 

"You don't have to eat anything," He says, much to Choso's visible relief. "I'm just gonna leave it here whenever you're hungry."

"Right," Choso nods. He looks a lifetime older than he is. Though the thought is quite ironic considering his real age. He reaches for the tea and sips on it. Yuji will take what he can regarding his appetite. 

"You should've told me," He says after a long time. There's no edge of blaming in it, but desperate wondering. 

Choso looks away, avoids his gaze as if it's a stinging scorpion. "I didn't want you to get worried."

"But you're my brother, Choso!" He exclaims, clenching his fists. The whites of his knuckles grow bigger. "You're always worrying about me. It's not a one way thing. I deserve to know. You deserve to be cared for!"

Taken aback by his speech, it takes Choso a moment to process these words. When he does, he breaks a kind of bittersweet smile that makes Yuji want to throw up. Even then, it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's my duty to protect you. That's what big brothers do."

Yuji shakes his head. He's not gonna let Choso brush him off like he's a little kid. Not again. Not again. Not again. Not. Again!

"No, that's bullshit!" He finds himself yelling. Choso flinches hard. He recoils away. There's tension, silence and a distance he's put between them. Yuji feels like the lowest worm. "I'm sorry- no. No. You'll listen to me. I don't want to see you in pain. It breaks my heart to see you suffering and there's jack shit I can do about it. We are brothers, Choso. I can be here for you too."

"You speak like it's a walk in the park. 'ooh, I'll be there for you' and I'll be fucking healed." Choso snaps back, slamming his tea on the bedside table. It ribbles and spills. "You're not a magical healer. You can't fix someone who's been r-raped!"

He hates, hates, hates how the word got stuck on his tongue. It's Yuji's turn to flinch at this ugly fucking word. He didn't expect Choso to be so direct.

Choso's fuming with a fragile anger, masking away his deepest hurt. He clenches his fists as he speaks again, "You think this is easy for me? You think I like this? You think I don't know what this is? I've become my fathers whore! I'm nothing but a disgusting slut and it's taking everything in me to sit with you right now." He turns away from Yuji to hide away the falling tears. 

Against his better judgement, he inches forward. He knows he shouldn't touch Choso, especially in such a vulnerable moment, but he doesn't care. He can't stop it. He puts his hands on his shoulders, shaking him hard enough to rattle the thoughts in his brain. "You're not a whore! You're not a slut! Don't you ever dare call yourself this again!" He yells for both of their own sanity. He needs to get this through Choso's thick skull. 

"Don't look at me, Yuji. Please, just look away." Choso's voice cracks and he faces away from Yuji.

The silence that befalls them is choking. 

He feels all the more helpless.

"I asked for it," Choso says after a while. "I chose this."

The air knocks out of his lungs. There's a lump in his throat that won't go away. "W-what? No you didn't." He shakes his head, insistent. 

"I did," Choso sighs and the weight of the whole universe draws down his shoulders. "I said yes. I specifically begged him to take me."

"Why woul-"

"So don't try fixing what isn't your fault. It's my choice, Yuji. I acknowledge that and I bear the consequences."

But there must be a catch here, an untold side of the story. No one in their sane mind would choose this hell.

"But why?" Yuji asks. "There must be a reason, right? I know you're not insane enough to enjoy this."

The answer hangs on the tip of Choso's tongue. He can see the internal fight of spilling it out or swallowing it down. Yuji won't let him. He'd fish the answers out of Choso's mouth manually if he had too. He gives a silent, encouraging nod.

"It was the better of two outcomes," Choso settles on that. "The lesser of two evils, you could say. This is the best this situation can get."

There were two things Yuji hated the most, lying and taking in riddles. Frankly, Choso was doing one of them now. The other he's been doing for weeks.

"What is the situation? What is the other outcome?"

Choso shifts in the bed, lengthening the space between them, in metaphorism and reality. There's the lingering strings of hesitation holding him back from saying it. Yuji wants to cut those strings. 

He doesn't speak, doesn't resolve the tension building up. The silence would push Choso to spit it out. They can almost hear the ticking of the clock as the seconds pass by. 

"It was either me or you," Choso finally speaks. "It was obvious what I chose."

His heart felt heavy, almost breaking in a not too metaphorical way. He clutched it tight, afraid that it would fall to his feet. 

"W...why?"

It’s both like a caress and a punch to his heart; his sweet sacrifice making Yuji's insides warm yet leaving him aching at his underlying grief, his inability to get back what was taken from him in exchange for Yuji's wellbeing. But before he has time to dwell on it too much, Choso speaks again. "He's a bastard, Yuji. You don't know what he's capable of. You can't handle it." 

Yuji feels numb to the end of everything he'd spent his entire life fighting for. But there's still some stubbornness left at the very bottom. "You can't either."

Choso throws him a tired look. "I'm perfectly fine," He backtracks when Yuji raises a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't care how painful it is. I'd do it all over again, I'd fight till my last breath so you don't have to experience this feeling ever."

It's equally endearing and heartbreaking to know that Choso is willing to do such a thing for him. God knows how terribly awful he must feel in his own skin. Yuji can only fathom. And it's never going to go away. Kenjaku carved scars that Choso would have to carry for the rest of the time he has left on earth, eternity and then some.

"I'm in pain." Yuji says. There's a watery quality to his voice and it cracks in the middle. His eyes sting with pounding tears. The forming shake grows in the strings of his muscles. 

"What's wrong? What's hurting y-?" Choso whirls out words of worry at once like the mother hen he is.

"Seeing you like this puts me in pain. So much hurt that I can't even begin to explain." He spills his heart out in the only way he knows. Sukuna laughs, taunts him at how helpless he is. And it hurts because it's so fucking true. It's the truth, bare and raw, stripped down to its bones. The building crowd of tears hits start and a marathon begins to his chin. It's the worst race to watch. "And I don't want you to hide it away. When you hurt yourself, you hurt me too. You hurt me when you pull away and hide your feelings. I want you to share your pain with me. You don't have to do this alone, on your own. If it's your duty to protect me, then it's my duty to care for you at the very least. Because I'm too goddamn weak to protect you back!"

Choso's face mirrors his own, drowning in overwhelming sadness. There's a million emotions flickering his eyes. Yuji races to read the fleeting constellations of love, sorrow and...guilt. It's not the type to consume Choso whole and sink him underwater. It's the type to guide him to the right direction, to the change he so desperatly needs.  

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Choso whispers and it almost gets lost under the voice of Yuji's thoughts. He turns to look at Yuji and Yuji drowns in the depth of those ebony eyes. He can't see the bottom even from this close. But Choso crinkles his temples and pulls his lips into a shaky smil. There's a healthy, almost happy flush to his pale face. It's the first sign of color to splash him. "You're correct. Maybe I don't have to do this alone. We're family, right?"

"Right." Yuji confirms, nods his head with a sureness he's never held before. This is the one true thing he knows through and through. 

For the first time since this whole fiasco, Choso reaches out of his own accord. He embraces Yuji in a hug and just melds into it. He lets his guard down. Tears soak Yuji shirt and he doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. There's nothing he can do to fix this. His best course of action is to just be there for Choso like all the other times Choso's been there for him.

It only hurts this much right now. In time the pain will subside, leaving behind only the dull aching of remembrance. But in this moment, it feels real and solid and they just have to guide each other through it. Until they see the

break of dawn once again from this endless darkness.