AN: The Author Is A Dumbass. I posted the chapter after this one instead of this one, and I only realized it now. So, suprise update?
Chapter: Go on for Eternity
Summary: If Satoru had one hundred yen for every time he has woken up all tied up in talismans... he would have two hundred yen.
Rating: M
Warning: Canon-typical violence, graphic. Sadism. Gojo Satoru.
If Satoru had one hundred yen for every time he has woken up all tied up in talismans, he would have two hundred yen. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.
… He can see Sukuna's suspicious glare in his head as soon as the thought is gone.
Was that supposed to be a quote?
Satoru snorts, shakes his head softly to try and get rid of the exhaustion that is making him delirious, and tries to open his eyes.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of it all is that he actually manages it. He had expected them to be bandaged, sealed away, just like the last time. His torso and legs are all tied up to a chair, in a parody of when he took Yuuji in after he ate Sukuna's first finger. But his eyes are unsealed.
Then again, with the number of talismans covering the whole room, he can't say that's going to make that big a difference.
He looks around while humming softly under his breath all the same. The whole place has a red tinge to it, but he can only see candles as the source of illumination. Maybe his eyes are bloodshot? Could that give everything a red tinge? He did overdo himself a bit while working to stabilize the Link, he can admit that much in the sanctity of his mind.
A soft growl fills the room, and Satoru startles. Then, he realizes it's coming from his stomach.
"Awful customer service. One star review," he grumbles as he drops his head with a defeated sigh.
When was the last time he ate something? Was it really in the morning, before they even set out for the library? Ah, no, he got some rikugyo snacks in Seichi. It feels like weeks ago…
More like a thousand years ago, he huffs to himself – and the door opens.
"Will you walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," Satoru whispers, grinning sharply, unable and unwilling to stop himself when he realizes who it is that just stepped past the threshold.
Principal Gakuganji is as serious and collected—read, emotionally constipated—as Satoru remembers, though that all changes when Satoru lifts his head.
The moment their eyes meet, Gakuganji stiffens with a curse, going pale even under this curious red light, cursed energy surging to his fingers in preparation for an attack.
Satoru's grin widens. It's neither humorous nor pretty, even by curse standards, and Gakuganji reads it accordingly as a shudder racks his old body.
And then, a second figure follows, closing the door at last, and Satoru's grin turns deadly.
"Ah, room service. I'd like to write a complaint to your manager. This is no way to treat an honored guest," he mocks almost too sweetly, poison-tipped words dropping from his lips much like the over-the-top cheer that he would have used if this was truly one thousand years ago.
That tone never failed to make a vein pop on Gakuganji's forehead. It was hilarious.
But the second old geezer has most of Satoru's attention at the moment, and he really doesn't care if this is actually the past or some kind of exhaustion-induced delirium.
"You are neither honored nor a guest here, cursed spirit. Identify yourself," Gojo Riki orders, as if he was still the Head of the Gojo Clan, despite the fact his son took over the moment he turned eighteen and kicked all the tradition-loving idiots out.
Said son grins wider, unbothered by the chains and talismans wrapped all over him.
Of course, if this really is the past, then the last anyone knows is that Gojo Satoru was sealed in the Prison Realm, dead or incapacitated until the day they manage to free him. And Satoru has his suspicions about how hard these old farts actually tried to get him out.
Satoru drops his smile. Gakuganji tenses. Riki frowns disapprovingly, but his cursed energy is pressing against his skin, ready to be unleashed at a thought.
"Would you believe me if I said I'm Gojo Satoru?"
"My son," Riki hisses, tilting his head up so he's looking even more down at Satoru. "Is dead."
Satoru grins again, slow and sharp.
"Is he? Funny. I didn't get the memo," he purrs, giving it a second to enjoy the popping vein on Gakuganji's forehead and the way Riki's nostrils flare, before he relaxes casually into the chair with a shrug, testing the strength of his bonds—really well-tied, blegh. "You may call me Unlimited. Or Unlimited-sama."
"Are you a curse or a sorcerer?"
Satoru blinks, startled at the question, and tilts his head in confusion as he studies his 'interrogators' – in and out.
They might look composed, but their cursed energy is still churning, crackling and at the ready to fuel whatever technique they might perform. The moment Satoru even twitches beyond what's expected, Gakuganji will go off like a bomb. Or Riki will, and Gakuganji will be collateral damage.
Nothing new then.
So, of course, Satoru shrugs again with a shit-eating grin.
"Who knows?"
"Answer the question," Riki has the nerve to scold, as if Satoru was three again and unable to do more than condense Limitless around himself, too pampered and unchallenged to pay attention to anything that wasn't the TV.
Satoru is no longer a three-year-old brat with no training.
And Riki has long since become less than memory.
"Or what?" he whispers, a grin on his face, daring the old coot to do more than glare disappointedly—for once in his miserable lifetime—even though he has long since given up on Riki growing a spine.
Old man stuck in old traditions and complexes, so ashamed of himself for failing to be born with the Six Eyes that the only way he thought he could contribute to the clan was to be a nagging bastard with an even longer stick up his ass than all the other coots put together.
Satoru would like to say he's disappointed that he was born to this pitiful creature, but really, why should he? Riki is too much of a failure, in all regards, to even bother thinking about him.
And then, Riki pulls out one of Sukuna's fingers.
"How in—"
"Or we feed you this and get rid of two evils in one go."
… Well, well, well. Riki did grow some balls. It only took the end of the world—the baby phases of it—for that to happen, but hey, give the man props! Satoru had bet on never, and he has obviously lost that one bet.
Not that it will do him much good, at this point in time.
But hey! He did a thing! A good thing! Time to acknowledge it in the only way it can be.
"Oooh! Gimme! Gimme!" Satoru chirps, eyes wide in excitement, before he throws his head back and opens his mouth widely like a baby bird.
And distorted by the angle or not, he still clearly sees the way both Riki and Gakuganji jerk back in shock.
Satoru holds the position a second longer, just in case, but either the old geezers have died standing up, or his suspicions are right. So, he straightens again with a pout that contrasts widely with the sharp amusement making his eyes squint.
"Aw, you made a threat you couldn't go through with? What a tease. Do you know what's it like to go without food for one thousand years? I'm starving! I only had a snack before I ended up here. A good one, mind you, but still a snack! I could eat a whole mountain!" he protests, slumping in the chair with a tired sigh, before he decides to focus on the positives and grins widely once more. "I really wanted to eat that. Sukuna almost eviscerated me once for eating a mochi he hadn't given me permission to. Imagine what he would do if I actually ate one of his fingers. He might actually kill me! Or, you know, maybe his head would explode! I didn't think you could get any dumber!, he would shout, and then boom!" he cackles, shimmying up to a more proper sitting position, rather than the awkward and uncomfortable slump that results of some rude hosts tying your legs to the chair. "I'd get all of Mount Fuji for myself."
"… Is that where you're based at?" Gakuganji manages to ask roughly, after almost a whole two minutes, and Satoru snorts and rolls his eyes.
"Duh, of course not. No one lives on Mount Fuji. I was talking about the curse. Next time it manifests, I'll beat Sukuna there and deal with it before he can even blink. I'm the Strongest, after all," he explains, the last words coming out in a purr as he dares these pathetic creatures to refute that claim.
They both stiffen, Riki tugging the finger closer once more, but neither falls for it.
They have something more interesting to focus on, at least from Gakuganji's perspective.
"The Mount Fuji curse?! That special grade with the volcano head, is that—"
"Jogo? Hah! No way!" Satoru laughs, thinking back to the chibi squad, and the way Jogo, especially, looks up to him a lot more since the mochi incident. "Kid's cute and all, in that curseling sort of cute, but no way is he Mount Ribcage level. But you don't have to worry about that. You'll be dead long before the Mount Ribcage curse manifests again."
"You are in no position to threaten us," Riki bristles, clutching the finger almost like it was a dagger, and Satoru sends him a pitying grin.
"It's not a threat. It's a promise," he answers with a shrug, completely relaxed in his binds, before his grin sharpens. "Though I won't lie – I would love to be the one to wipe you two useless stains off of the face of the planet. But then again, what for? You old farts don't have that much longer anyway. And Principal Yaga would give me the mother of all lectures if I did kill you off, and I pass. There are far better things to—"
Gakuganji has gone pale. His eyes are crinkled, pain and sadness warring in them, as well as discomfort and guilt. His hands shake, and his cursed energy wavers, sputtering, not fueled by anger, but churned by a regret that comes from…
Satoru's grin vanishes, and his cursed energy is the one to spike this time.
"Since when are you a Curse User Hunter?" he hisses, focusing on the faint residuals that are almost glowing now that he has put all his attention on them. "No, don't answer. You aren't. Because the man you killed wasn't a Curse User," he cuts before Gakuganji can do more than stiffen, Satoru's silky yet cutting grin returning like a whisper through the fog. "Did you enjoy it, you little worm? Did you enjoy that last meal, the last smile, the last words? Did betrayal taste as sweet as the memories stained by the blood of a friend?"
Yaga-sensei sits Satoru down for a lecture, the bump on his head still smarting, and while outwardly annoyed at his teacher, Satoru can't help but feel awed all the same. At the Gojo complex, his word is law and his every whim is an order. Here, with this man, Satoru is an impudent brat who has a lot to learn – and someone who cares enough to teach it all to him.
Satoru sees the cores in the newest cursed corpse Yaga-sensei—Principal Yaga now, even if it is weird—has made, and instead decides to comment on how weird it is to see a baby-sized panda suckling on a pacifier. Yaga-sensei—Principal Yaga, damnit—sends him a deadpan look, but when he reaches to rub his hair and push him away, his hand is gentle and there's a grateful smile curling his lips.
Gakuganji stiffens. Satoru's grin grows even more, all teeth and threat, to the point his eyes crinkle almost maniacally with the strength of his ire.
No. Not ire. This isn't anger, like what he felt for the higher ups, whom he would kill without a second thought and be done with them, if that would have changed something.
This is delight.
Satoru will rip every inch of wrinkled skin off of this bastard's shrunken muscles, snap every single one of his brittle bones, and enjoy every second of it.
Some might call it sadism. Satoru calls it payback.
The room shudders, the talismans lighting up with a bright red glow, and Gakuganji and Riki look around in growing terror before the second snarls down at the little excited twist of Satoru's lips, his eyes grown wide in excitement as he can practically taste the blood in the air.
"Those aren't the Six Eyes! How are you doing this?!"
"I didn't think jujutsu sorcerers had it in them," Satoru chuckles, the sound echoing in his ribcage and in the shivering of the paper talismans that seem to be reacting to the cursed energy pulsing in excitement through his veins. "This will be fun," he giggles, the sound escaping before he can process the tinkle of glee bubbling in his lungs, and Gakuganji practically tumbles back into the wall—
"No. It won't," Riki hisses – and Limitless explodes out of him.
Not true Limitless, though. No, only Satoru has that, the fine-tuned perfect defense that is only obtained with the Six Eyes. But Riki has a lot of cursed energy and the Limitless technique in his body, and so he can produce a wave of pressure strong enough to slam Satoru into a wall and shove Gakuganji out of the room—
And tilt the candles off of their supports, flames sputtering—
Satoru focuses on one of them, time slowing down in his perception as he aims the hyper-focused cursed energy he has been accumulating at it—
The flame explodes, bathing the room in fire as the talismans burn like kindling – and so does Satoru's eye, immediately going dark as if stabbed, blood flying everywhere—
Oh, wait. He was stabbed. Riki just shoved Sukuna's finger into his left eye.
Too little too late, as the room catches fire and Satoru feels the flames lick at his skin as he kicks Riki off of him with a roar, chair broken with the impact of the uncontrolled Limitless, and stumbles into a wall.
He doesn't feel the pain as his skin bubbles and peels and gets branded by the chains around his wrists, too lost in the wave of poisonous cursed energy extending through his head, coursing through his brain, even as he snaps the chains binding his hands behind his back with a burst of Red once the talismans turn to ash, reaching up to rip the claw out of his eye socket—
The finger and a blindfold covered in burning talismans.
The world is suddenly back again, fuller than ever before, all in shades of red and blue and purple, cursed energy scratching at the walls, at the failing talismans, begging for a spark to ignite—
Satoru grins, or snarls, or both – and throws that spark.
The world explodes around him, bursting out with Red and imploding with Blue and vaporizing with Purple, as the fire around him goes cold, separate from his skin, reverse cursed technique smoothing and stretching molten skin back into its proper shape.
The fire ends almost as soon as it has begun, a flattened forest all around and two old bastards staring up at him in terror as Limitless lifts him out of the ruin. His mouth is stretched to the point he shows almost more teeth than he has, Sukuna's finger is in his hand, and his pierced eye bubbles as it reassembles, the whole of his left side's field of vision back again.
Want to play? Shall we dance? Made your peace?
No. None of those.
Satoru's grin shrinks into something even sharper as he brings his arms up, opening them almost as if he was offering the old coots a hug, even as the reverse cursed technique running through them makes the new skin glow in red and blue and purple.
"Let me introduce you to your new God."
There are first grade sorcerers left, right, back, and front, wary and worried and determined, slowly getting back to their feet or coming out of the woods. Satoru thinks he recognizes some faces, but chooses to skim over them all, focusing on the residuals and faded bloodstains on their hands.
Keeping a couple eyes on the sorcerers, Satoru looks down at the shriveled bastards, chuckling deep in the back of his throat.
"I'm impressed. You actually have some fight left in you," he purrs condescendingly, licking his lips as Gakuganji looks up to him with a scowl that is more fear than anger, while Riki scrambles up to his feet with terror in his pale blue eyes and disheveled white hair. "You're resilient for a couple of old fools. But not even you cockroaches will survive what will come next," he chirps cheerfully, clapping his hands in front of his face, eyes closing in a mock-joyful grin even as he keeps a close look on the other sorcerers with his—
… With his smaller pairs of eyes.
Satoru startles, blinking in surprise – and notices, at last, that he can blink multiple times, and that the world changes color with every blink.
Red.
Blue.
Purple.
And back to normal when he opens his eyes and doesn't blink.
He brings a hand up to his cheekbone, carefully palping around the bottom of his eye – and stops when he sees his hand about to poke his own eye, even though he knows that's not possible. He goes around that red-tinged impossibility, and on the way up, a blue-tinged afterimage warns him of another impending finger-in-the-eye situation.
The image of the Unlimited in the Legends of the Birth of the New Era flashes through his mind, with the scars it shares with Satoru, the white hair, and the literal six eyes.
Satoru whistles, blinking each of his eyes alternatively.
"I was wondering when these were going to come up," he comments out loud, closing the trio on his right side to carefully massage the eyelids with a hand that's still glowing with the cursed energy under the skin. "Weird. You lot give me the strangest headaches every time I end up here," he pouts down at the unnerved and freaked out sorcerers, leaning casually against Limitless in midair, before he throws Sukuna's finger up in the air only to catch it as it falls, over and over. "I blame Sukuna. Him and his stupid ideas."
Lots of jaws fall to the ground. Satoru smirks innocently – and with a wink, Gakuganji's right arm explodes into a twisted mass of friction-burnt skin, shredded muscle and splintered bone.
The old coot roars in pain, blood gushing out like fireworks. Satoru purrs, pleased, and stretches casually much like a cat playing with a mouse.
Nah. There has to be a better comparison for the power difference between Satoru and these insects. Maybe Sukuna knows about it.
"That was so good!" he moans, delighted, as his grin curls up even further – and twists out of the way of Riki's own wringing technique. "Oi, oi. Impatient much? Don't worry, I'll deal with you soon."
"You monster…"
"Ruuuude," Satoru whines, pouting, Infinity stopping any and all attacks that try to get to him, and after kicking back the fools who got stuck in his Limitless—bones might have snapped, oopsie—he turns back to Riki and Gakuganji with something dark curling his lips. "Just for that, I won't kill you. Let's see how you go about without your dominant arm. At your age, it isn't like you can learn any new tricks, anyway," he mocks the shriveled principal, who is growing paler and paler with every passing second, before he focuses all of his six-eyed attention on Riki. "As for you…"
Riki throws out Limitless. Satoru condenses all of his cursed energy in his hand and claws through it without problem, seizes Riki by the jaw with one hand, forcing his mouth open – and shoves Sukuna's finger down his throat.
Riki kicks and chokes, clawing at Satoru's arm and the hand he keeps over his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks as his terror fills the air, intoxicating in a way that has Satoru grin wider and wider, his six eyes glowing almost blindingly in the reflection cast on Riki's terrified blue eyes.
His own Limitless keeps anything and everything at bay, except Riki's weakening scratches. With the reverse cursed technique burning under his skin as it fixes the damage, Riki's fingertips get a bit more filed down with every scratch.
By the time he finally goes still, the heart barely beating under the hand Satoru keeps on his throat, Riki's fingers are little more than bone at the tips, and his skin is bloated and blistering and purple, sores popping open with the sweet smell of putrefaction.
Satoru relaxes with a satisfied sigh—almost a moan, but shh, don't tell anyone about that—dropping the hand he'd kept on Riki's mouth to cup a grain of Red in it and press it against the middle of the bastard's chest—
And boom! Death by cursed energy. Goodbye, Riki!
Sukuna's finger takes another Red to recover, stuck in the old coot's throat and practically sizzling proudly as Satoru fishes it out of shredded muscle and skin and bubbling blood.
"Yeah, yeah. Good job, buddy, you did good," he tells the finger with a chuckle, patting it much like one would a pet, before he wipes it clean as much as he can with Riki's bloodstained clothes. "So! Who wants to play with me now? Only strong people, though. I want to warm up before I go back to that fight Sukuna and I had to put on hold," he tells the terrified crowd of useless lumps, who either cower or whimper.
Well, except one of the idiots, who rushes at him sword in hand, a simple domain building in his bones—
A grain of Blue to the face crushes his head before he can finish drawing his sword.
All the others scream or flinch back.
Satoru sighs in disappointment.
"I thought I said only strong people. You lot are awful at following instructions. No fun," he whines, rolling his shoulders, before he turns to study their surroundings.
Hm. They're not in the Jujutsu Tech complex, not even in the grounds, and there's only forest all around. Had they wanted to isolate him that badly? Well, probably, maybe, but look where that got them.
Satoru shrugs again and discards the thought.
"Whatever. I'm going to get something to eat. Don't kill each other, ne?" he chirps at the other sorcerers, ignoring the body rotting at a fast speed under his feet and the slump of unconscious old fart at his back, and pushes off towards where he can feel the strongest concentration of cursed energy—
And finally sees the enormous black barriers isolating a good chunk of Tokyo.
His Six Eyes tell him one of them is Shibuya, so he hums in interest and dives at it—
And when he next blinks, he's in Victory, in front of the hut on the Hill of the Last Standing, one thousand years from then—or from now, or whatever—and Sukuna is glaring at him, four arms crossed against his chest, like Satoru was a misbehaving pet who ran off.
Satoru expects a comment about the extra eyes, but when it doesn't come, he carefully reaches for his cheekbone.
Gone. Only one pair of eyes, though there's a pair of thin and long scars on his cheekbone and temple, where the other pairs had been. Much like Yuuji had from Sukuna's own eyes.
And talking about Sukuna, the finger is gone too. Satoru pats his pockets, even though he'd had it in hand, but comes up empty.
"Again?" Sukuna asks once Satoru drops his hands, an eyebrow lifted in expectation.
"Even weirder than before. I think I know where the whole six eyes thing came from."
Sukuna sighs, long-suffering, but simply waves him in and makes a beeline for the kitchen.
Satoru goes to the living room, stopping in front of the painting of the Unlimited.
Six eyes. Hands glowing with cursed energy in blue, red and purple. The scars. And while the 'lore' behind it might not be much, it was still enough.
"The only thing they could do was seal him away, and even that wasn't enough."
When Sukuna comes back with something clearly alcoholic, Satoru just drops into his seat and lifts his glass at the painting.
JUJU STROLL!
What's your favorite colony?
"That's not exactly a fair question," Hanami answers at the same time Jogo exclaims Victory!
"Eh? How come, Hanami?" Mahito asks, hands at the back of his head as he rocks in his seat while Jogo steams at going ignored.
"I mean, only Dagon knows a colony other than Victory, since he was born in Sazansan," he answers, and Dagon nods sagely while Mahito hums in agreement.
"So, which one of the two is your favorite, Dagon?" Mahito asks over Jogo's grumbling, and Dagon blows a raspberry with a huge close-eyed smile. "Really? How come?"
Dagon burbles and waves his tentacles, making sure to meet each of his friends' eyes as he answers – who exchange a startled look before they grin.
"It's hard to argue with that!" Hanami giggles, covering his mouth with his hands, while Jogo lets out a puff of steam and Mahito cackles. "What about you, Gojo-sama and Sukuna-ou?"
"You have been to a lot more colonies, so you sure know the best ones!" Jogo exclaims, eye glowing in interest.
"Well, I haven't exactly seen much… and I'm guessing Origin before it was Origin doesn't count, does it?" Gojo answers, turning his last words on Sukuna, who simply rolls his eyes.
"We're talking colonies not cities, so no, it doesn't count."
"Why aren't the other Yagami here for this question time thing? They could tell us a lot more about other colonies," Gojo adds, poking at Sukuna, who slaps the hand away, ignoring the muffled giggling from the chibis.
"Because they would only wage poetry about their own colonies, and this is my house. The limit is of one idiot at a time. Sit down, Gojo, you ass!"
"Fine, fine. You can't take a joke," Gojo laughs, but obediently takes back his seat. "You never said which is your favorite colony."
"Victory, of course."
"And that's my clue to leave, before the idiot-meter goes off the scale."
"I'm going to eviscerate you!"
"You'll have to catch me first!"
"Come back here, you insufferable man-child!"
"… Well. Question time is over, I guess."
AN: This one freaks me out, and I'm the one who wrote it.
I always thought Gojo Satoru is a scarier character than people seem to think. He's a cool character, and fun and goofy, true. But his view of the people around him is terrifying. Even so, I was never truly scared of him - until here. I don't know where this side of Satoru came from... except, it didn't come from anywhere, did it?
It had always been there.
So, yeah. Three episodes left.