Chapter Text
Yuuji woke up in an unfamiliar street with a pounding heart, panting breath for breath. His eyes raked across his surroundings, trying to make sense of where he was and how he had gotten there. He couldn’t remember anything beyond falling asleep dead on his feet the night before.
Had Sukuna taken control again? He couldn’t have, he couldn’t– Yuuji reached inward for Sukuna’s malevolent presence, only to find emptiness. The space Sukuna had once occupied was utterly void of the King of Curses.
No, no, no– He can’t–
Yuuji’s throat suddenly felt like it had been squeezed shut, he choked on the oppressive tightness blocking any air from entering his lungs. For one delirious second he thought it was Sukuna, come to finish him off, but the convulsion of his throat was not due to the hands of another wrapped around his neck. A panic attack, not an unfamiliar feeling, Yuuji attempted to wheeze a few aching breaths.
“Hey, are you okay?” A hand came to rest on Yuuji’s shoulder with barely-there pressure.
Through the haze of his mind, Yuuji threw himself away from the stranger on instinct, whirling to face his attacker.
Kenjaku.
Kenjaku stood before him, one hand still outstretched. He was missing his monk robes, replaced instead with a Jujutsu Tech uniform with customised long billowing pants. His face was twisted into a look of concern, some kind of ploy to get closer? Yuuji scrambled backwards, putting as much space between them as possible.
He watched as Kenjaku raised his hands slowly, palms up in surrender.
I need to get up– I need to fight–
Kenjaku was saying something, but the words would not register in Yuuji’s mind as he dove forward, fist already raised to deliver a black flash. His fist would not meet its target as Kenjaku dodged to one side. Yuuji shifted his weight and lunged again, rage and desperation propelling him as he launched blow after blow at his opponent. Kenjaku kept dodging– not once trying to land a hit on Yuuji, simply evading with ease. Yuuji’s attacks were likely sloppy, more raw emotion than technique, but he was too out of it to reel himself back in. His breaths were still coming too fast and too short.
Kenjaku finally struck, moving past his defenses with sudden determination, grabbing both of Yuuji’s arms in a vice grip. Yuuji thrashed against him, but the grip on his arms held firm.
I shouldn’t be this weak, Yuuji panicked. What happened to me?
“Stop it!” Kenjaku ordered, his voice somewhere between soothing and distressed. “You’ll hurt yourself!”
A sob escaped Yuuji as he continued struggling. Kenjaku’s words made no sense, nothing made sense. Kenjaku was still holding him, he needed to get away. Kenjaku needed to get away. I need to get away, Yuuji thought as more sobs racked his body. He sagged, held upright only by Kenjaku as he reached his limit.
He was barely conscious of Kenjaku shifting him once he realized Yuuji was no longer fighting his hold, pulling him closer until Yuuji’s body was pressed into his chest. The idea of Kenjaku hugging him to his chest provoking a manic peal of blubbering laughter to rip its way out of Yuuji’s chest, quickly swallowed by the uncontrollable wailing he couldn’t seem to stop.
Kenjaku rubbed a hand slowly up and down Yuuji’s back, as if he was trying to comfort Yuuji.
“It’s okay,” Kenjaku was murmuring, his voice soft and lulling. “It’ll be alright.”
Yuuji struggled weakly against him, resisting the crooned whispers of comfort. Kenjaku hushed him with pacifying shushing noises, keeping Yuuji pressed close.
Yuuji wiggled until he could see Kenjaku’s face. The foreign expression of open, warm concern decorating his sharp features gave Yuuji pause.
Kenjaku’s face smoothed into a soft, encouraging smile. “My name is Geto Suguru, can you tell me yours?”
Yuuji blinked, confusion threatening to send him into another spiral. What kind of trick is this?
Kenjaku was staring at him, a patient indulgence in his eyes as he looked down at Yuuji. Awareness began flooding back into Yuuji as his addled mind took in the situation. Kenjaku was tall, too tall.
Or rather, it was Yuuji who was too small.
Kenjaku was resting on bent knees to accommodate for Yuuji’s smaller height as he held him in his arms. The face of the man holding him appeared younger too, his features softer and more youthful than the face Kenjaku had worn. Yuuji’s full height barely came up to his chest even with the man on his knees.
Yuuji’s breathing sped up, sharp painful breaths rattling him.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Kenjaku– Not Kenjaku?– soothed immediately. “You don’t have to tell me your name, it’s okay, just breathe with me.”
He took a long breath, loud and exaggerated for Yuuji to copy. He mimicked the deep breath, hiccuping a little too much for it to have the full calming effect. They repeated the long, slow breathing exercise in silence.
This… this was the real Geto Suguru. He was sure it was, but never having met him made that a hard fact to confirm.
And Yuuji was in a body too small to be his fifteen-year-old self. Weaker and significantly shorter were just the start of it, his emotions also felt huge and uncontrollable.
Could this be the past? Was that even possible? What did this all mean? What happened to everyone else? Were they also in the past?
On a reflex, Yuuji checked again for Sukuna’s presence within him only to come up with nothing once more. His breath hitched, pressure building up in his chest.
The real Geto Suguru’s chest rumbled where Yuuji was trapped against him, the man humming some sort of lullaby as he gently rocked him back and forth. Such a foreign action for Kenjaku’s body– That’s not Kenjaku– That it startled Yuuji out of another downward spiral.
Making a split second decision that he would most likely regret, Yuuji opened his mouth to speak. “Itadori Yuuji.”
His voice came out high and wobbly, stuttering slightly over the syllables of his own name.
“Is that your name?” Geto asked.
Yuuji nodded, meeting the man’s eyes despite everything in him screaming not to.
Geto gave a soft hum of approval. “Thank you for telling me, Yuuji-kun.”
The arms holding Yuuji in place pulled away, Geto clearly having decided that Yuuji was calm enough not to try to attack him. Yuuji entertained the thought of trying to attack again but forced the urge down. He’s not Kenjaku.
He took a somewhat awkward step back, trying to emanate how a real five-year-old would act with a stranger. Geto finding out about the future is probably a bad idea, Yuuji reasoned with himself. It’ll be easier if I try to act like a little kid, people are nice to little kids, right?
“Would you like to hear a story, Yuuji-kun?” Geto asked, his tone still warm and calming– the way one talks to a scared child or a stray cat.
Yuuji nodded jerkily. Five-year-olds like stories.
“I’ll tell you about an adventure I had with my friend,” Geto said, falling into a smooth storytelling voice.
Yuuji listened as he went on to describe what had clearly been a mission that Geto was obviously editing into an age-appropriate story. As he talked, Yuuji realized with a start that the eccentric ‘friend’ character was Gojo-sensei. The thought of his sensei, sealed away in the future, made Yuuji’s eyes burn. He looked down at his feet to hide the tears no doubt gathering in his eyelashes, hoping Geto hadn’t noticed.
He wasn’t that lucky. “Yuuji-kun? Are you alright? Do you not like this story?”
“I want to go home,” He whispered in a moment of painful honesty.
“I can take you home,” Geto soothed. “You just have to tell me where, can you do that, Yuuji-kun?”
“Can’t.” Yuuji wiped at his eyes forcefully. “Home’s not there anymore.”
The oversimplification of the century. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Geto watching him with a mixture of concern and confusion. Silence settled over them for a few beats.
“Do you have a safe place to stay, Yuuji-kun?” Geto asked, his voice was achingly gentle– like he already knew the answer.
A safe place? Yuuji? People like him don’t get safe places, don’t deserve them.
“No,” Yuuji answered honestly.
Geto hummed in reply. There was a pause as he weighed his options in his head.
“You can come with me,” Geto offered. “I live at a school, but it’s safe there and then we can find you somewhere to stay, okay?”
Jujutsu Tech, Yuuji thought distantly. He’s talking about Jujutsu Tech. Here, in the past.
Gojo-sensei will be there; he might know how to send me back to the future.
Yuuji nodded sharply.
Geto moved to stand, stretching to his full height and offering an open palm for Yuuji to take. Yuuji reached up and took the offered hand, clinging to it like a five-year-old likely would as he tried desperately to remind himself that the man attached to the hand was not Kenjaku.
Allowing Geto to take him to Jujutsu Tech was a good idea. Finding the Gojo-sensei of this present was a good idea. Even beyond getting back to Yuuji’s time, Gojo might be able to work out how and why Yuuji ended up here. He might be able to figure out where Sukuna went. The gap in his soul where the dark entity usually resided left Yuuji feeling off-centered, like he was missing some essential organ. Discomfort prickled under his skin like a rash. Sukuna could be anywhere.
Geto gave Yuuji’s hand a soft squeeze, unknowingly breaking him out of another stupor and began leading him up the street. Yuuji followed, glad that Geto didn’t seem to want to fill the silence with chatter because his mind was elsewhere.
I just need to find Gojo-sensei…