Chapter Text
Toji feels the impact before it even hits him, arriving purely in the physical manifestation of Sukuna’s brutality and drive.
A gust of wind follows the boy’s speed, coming right next to Toji and completely knocking him askew before he can follow through with the layup. Pain bubbles underneath him with his unprotected landing on the hardwood, watching in melodramatic slow motion as the ball bounces off the side of the rim and right into Sukuna’s waiting hands.
It was like a hypnosis technique, one fueled completely from Toji’s hatred for the supposed post who’s way too creative and shifty on his feet to be anything other than a point guard. From the moment Sukuna stepped in the gym on the first day of tryouts, an athletic bag languidly slung over his shoulder and his face fixed as if he were just passing by, it was obvious he was gonna be a problem.
Despite being one of the tallest boys on the team, Sukuna didn’t let his stature slow him down like Toji’s seen with the other fives that were only subbed in when the coach is sure nothing can ruin their victory. The coach was also sure Sukuna would be the best rebounder there is, defending right under the basket with the best balance of height and muscle possible.
However, during experimental practices, they figured they had more success orchestrating plays under Sukuna’s control. So, they had to make a few changes.
Toji, of course, kept his starting spot as the power forward but Sukuna started right with him and brought all the clout and attention with it. A decently talented first year became the starting big and while his family attended every game, waving signs of the boy’s face high, nothing was able to overshadow the fanfare Sukuna had built just by being himself.
Alumni who hadn’t revisited the school since they graduated were the main ones bringing attention to every game, home or away, telling others to go check out the new point guard who seemed to appear out of thin air. Sukuna’s skill was broadcasted like never before, which is strange because there’s no way his prowess was able to stay hidden for so long.
But it was. And now, everyone’s worshiping him like he’s the glamorous deity of fucking high school basketball. Toji would say all the praise inflated his ego but he can tell Sukuna’s been a cocky bastard since the day he was born. He carries it naturally with him, regardless of what anyone may say.
Toji sees it now, where Sukuna shoots him a quick grin mid-pivot and dribbles down to the other end of the court. They were in the middle of a scrimmage where Toji had just been mowed over, and he figures he should’ve been expecting it—Sukuna’s crazy little speed boost he gets whenever there’s a fast break almost always ends up with him successfully hawking the person down and sending the ball to the bleachers.
Perhaps it was better getting pushed to the ground by Sukuna rather than his shot being blocked to oblivion. Whatever. Both of them are annoying, and the botheration only multiplies when the coach yells for Toji to stop daydreaming and get to his feet.
The rest of practice goes somewhat smoothly, with Toji’s enhanced aggression only drawing more versatility and pomposity from Sukuna.
Toji doesn’t let it take him out of focus. He doesn’t. In fact, it only motivates him more, taking even more chances than he usually does when the ball is in his possession.
Though Sukuna’s more than capable of keeping up with him, there were times where he lacked and that competitive glimmer in his eyes shined brighter than anything before.
Sukuna’s team ultimately ends up winning. When the timer had run out, the boy eyed the scoreboard like it was less of a win and more of materialized evidence of his superiority over Toji.
But he doesn’t have any of that, no precedence at all. Toji will make sure he knows that, giving Sukuna a mean nudge as the coach calls them to the huddle. The point guard just laughs at him like all of Toji’s antics are too bothersome and inconvenient to genuinely get angry over.
Toji steps away from him as they all round up around the coach, brushing slick hair out of his face. He rocks side to side throughout the coach’s speech, chewing distractedly on his lip and adjusting his shorts.
After they do the hand-stack and close it off, Toji grabs his water bottle and storms off to the locker room, more than disturbed about his loss.
He’s the second best player on the team after Sukuna, but it pisses him off how the gap between their expertise seems to widen every day. He’s in the gym outside of practice when he has the time, either lifting weights or experimenting with his moves.
Still, Sukuna’s ahead of him. But also, Sukuna doesn’t have to go home every night and deal with all the problems Toji has.
“What the fuck was that?” He asks as the widely acclaimed star player joins him in the locker room.
“The fuck was what?” Sukuna raises an eyebrow, currently working at his lock.
“You pushed me.” Toji has to keep himself from gritting his teeth. “That was a foul.”
“I was playing defense.” Sukuna turns around, “Nobody else said anything about it so why’re you the only one with his little boy panties in a twist?”
“I’m the only one who doesn’t kiss your ass. That’s why.”
“Listen, you can’t expect people to not be physical in a physical sport. Either learn to take the aggression or quit, but don’t fuckin’ whine about it to me.” Sukuna leans against the door of his locker, even sweatier than Toji but still beaming with that hunger.
“It would be easier to take it if I hadn’t noticed how you’re only aggressive to me out of everyone on the team.” Toji crosses his arms, lips spreading into a vicious smile, “Is that all you’re capable of?”
Sukuna gets back to his locker, “Just wait ‘till the season starts.”
“I’m coming for your spot.” Toji states heartily.
Sukuna scoffs amusedly, flinging his door open, “You can’t play the one.”
“I’m not talking about playing point guard.” He approaches the boy, shuts his locker for him when Sukuna takes his bag out and leans back, “I’m gonna make you sit back so I can play the role of the obnoxious shithead for once.”
“You’re already an obnoxious shithead, no need to sit back.” Sukuna meets his eyes drolly, “And people like me more than you ‘cause I actually put on a show when I’m on the court. You just silently snake through and brute force everything and while it does get you points, it won’t get you any of that spotlight you crave so much, Zen’in.”
“Don’t call me that.” Toji’s jaw hurts.
“What should I call you, then? The name of that cheerleader I always saw you oglin’? What is it again? Fushiguro, right?” And Sukuna’s calm demeanor breaks into ecstatic glee, “It’s a shame you blew your chance—you guys could’ve actually made something like a family with that baby you put in her! Too bad she dumped your ass. What’s your little one’s name? I knew it was something girly.”
Toji grabs the collar of his sweaty practice jersey, surely stretching it out with the way he pulls at Sukuna, shoving him against a nearby pillar.
“Don’t talk about her or my child ever again.” Toji gets all up in his face, sneering like a rascal.
“What’re you trying to do?” Sukuna asks like he’s stupid, “I don’t think you have time to fool around with me—you still need to go play house; pick your little girl up from daycare and all that.”
Toji clicks his tongue and lets go of him. “My kid’s a boy, jackass.”
“Never would’ve thought. Poor boy’s gonna grow up to be a pussy just like his father. Wonder how he’s gonna react when he learns you had him in high school with the only girl that saw you beneath your obnoxious shithead facade.” Sukuna proceeds to the showers, not bothering to even check behind him for Toji’s reaction. “And yet, you still ruined it.”
He’s playing a dangerous game. A dangerous game he knows he’ll win because Toji does exactly what he expected: grabbing his own bag and storming out just as the rest of their teammates file in.
He’ll shower at home, even though he has to crank the handle with all his strength just for water to spray though the head. Even though getting the water to the temperature he wants is a whole different story and a whole different effort.
He goes through these tribulations every day living in the shitty apartments not too far from the school but even dirtier and darker than it. There’s a gas station between the two buildings, where a man in a clean suit stands outside by the icebox, flip phone pressed against his ear. He perks up when Toji gets close, ending his call and losing the tension that came with it.
“You tailored that one?” Toji asks, gesturing to the suit he’s wearing.
“Is there a reason you want to know?” The man shoves his phone into his pocket and adjusts his grip on the baby tucked against his chest with his other arm. He’s Gong Shi-woo, Toji’s personal daycare.
Toji met him one night when he was just stepping out of some unpleasantly shady business. Shi-woo toyed with the thought of killing him, even pressing a gun against his head. But Toji had nothing to lose and therefore nothing to tell. He was a witness, sure, but a lousy and useless one.
A hungry one too, so he was able to convince Shi-woo to give him a meal in exchange for his silence and assistance with the next case he grappled with. They became friends with enough time, probably the only friend Toji has.
“Nope.” He laughs, “How’s Megumi?”
“You’re lookin’ at him right now.” Shi-woo gently sets the baby into Toji’s arms. “Made sure not to smoke around him. Fed him two times, so dinner’s on you.”
“Already bought the baby formula. To make up for the lost change, I’ll be out tonight.” Toji gazes at him a little more indulgently than before, trying to pass off a secret message both of them already know.
Aside from friends, they’re also coworkers. It’s a steady process—Toji does the job and Shi-woo puts money in his pockets for it.
“Don’t forget to wash up first.” Shi-woo nose crinkles.
“Was already planning on it. Sorry, I don’t smell like sunshine and rainbows when I just came back from practice.” Toji ensures Megumi’s balanced and comfortable in his arms before walking off, “Now get out of this part of town before you get robbed.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” It only takes a few steps for the man to reach his car, expensive-looking enough for Toji to wonder how the hell he hadn’t been mugged already.
Megumi is silent in his arms, staring up at him with big, enigmatic eyes. It reminds Toji of Fushiguro, how she’d look at him whenever he lost himself. When he lost himself, he often did dumb shit, such as sneaking up to her bedroom window, restless and aching and fidgety.
She’d let him sleep there for the night, still staring at him like that. It was unbearable at first, as if that gaze alone was forcing him to admit and own up to all his wrongdoings. It also made him want to do that, to take a bitter sense of accountability for once in his life.
He remembers how she looked when she was torn away from Toji, too. He remembers standing on her doorstep, getting cursed out by her parents and being shoved an even younger Megumi into his arms before being told to fuck off. After Fushiguro had given birth, her parents wanted nothing to do with her child or with Toji, believing that Toji had ruined her life.
And Toji believed it too. It was true, after all. Clear cut—if he just kept his dick in his pants, just didn’t think he was actually capable of loving someone and them loving him back, maybe Fushiguro wouldn’t have moved away with her parents in search of better opportunities and better people. She wouldn’t have been crying behind the vile mouths of her parents, looking at him one last time with tears simmering in those dark, enigmatic eyes before the door was slammed in his face.
That expression on her face still haunts Toji in his worst nightmares, often has him waking up drenched in sweat with a bad headache. He can feel the pain cramming between his skull already.
He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin by the time he climbs all the stairs and makes it to his door. He puts Megumi in his crib and immediately heads to the shower. Though it takes some time with all the trouble with the pipes, he’s finally able to wash up.
Here, alone and practically isolated, his mind starts getting to him. He thinks about how Sukuna wasn’t all that wrong in what he said, that Toji did ruin it like he ruins everything. And now, because of his stupid fucking decisions, he’s stuck with a baby, struggling on most days.
He remembers something people around here and during his childhood used to say: work to eat, because if you don’t eat, you’ll die.
Though the job Shi-woo gave him constantly has him doing things he’s less than proud of, he can’t exactly lose sleep over it when he’s working to provide for himself and his child.
He’s working to eat, and maybe to die, too.