Hello guys, this is Hopeless Blue Kiss here. I am so happy so many people liked my first Jujutsu Kaisen story so I decided to write another. This one is loosely based off Marvel's Moon Knight, except with a Jujutsu Kaisen twist. I do not own any franchise but enjoyed writing this story. I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think.

Me and My Shadow

Click.

Clack.

Bang.

Rustle.

Locks and bolts snapped into place inside their metal chambers. The end of a piece of electrical tape was slapped down on the upper corner of the closed front door of his industrial loft apartment. Then the tape was smoothed down with firm fingers covering the old sticky residue of old tape tracks.

RIIIIIIIIIPPPPP.

Fingers and strong teeth deftly cut the end and hands pressed firmly against the tape to make sure the door seam was covered properly before a slow smile of accomplishment blossomed on slightly chapped lips. The soft ping of a microwave went off as a tongue, lazily licked at the dryness of his bottom lip, hoping to bring back some moisture as he prodded it with the tip of his tongue. The swoosh of heels pivoting quickly as the young, pink-haired man walked excitedly to his leftovers. Quickly the microwave door was smacked open and closed. The piping hot cargo in his hands danced across the bottom of the food container with fingertips weary of being burnt.

"Still smells good," Yuji murmured gleefully. His smile remained across his face as he sat down in the poorly lit kitchen of his tiny kitchen. He had requested on numerous occasions to get his hanging lights fix, not having a ladder big enough to climb up to change the lightbulb. He also had the issue of his garbage disposal not working properly. But the Landlord seemed to conveniently be only available when it was time to collect checks and money orders for rent. So, he made do with a hand-me down floor lamp and some greenery here and there in the kitchen to brighten things up a bit.

The young man wasn't up to doing any cooking that day, having a particularly hard day at work. He had been reluctant to open his fridge to see nothing in it, but had completely forgotten he had ordered takeout a few days back. A quick bite was taken to make sure it didn't taste funny and still tasted good. The young man hummed in affirmation to his successful gamble.

The twenty-two-year-old was eagerly digging into the left-over Chinese food with some Shrimp Lo Mein and pork dumplings dipped in homemade chili oil sauce. It would honestly do well with a can of beer, but he hadn't restocked the fridge in a while hence the leftovers were the only option until he received his next paycheck tomorrow.

He let out a regretful sigh over his mouthful, chair tilted back on its hind legs as he continued to tuck into his food. The young man tried to run the numbers in his head, contemplating if he had enough to go grocery shopping tomorrow when he still needed to replace his flat tire and needed an oil change to his beat-up car, desperately. He could always go meatless for a few days and make cheap family-style meals like stew, that could stretch out for days and didn't go bad quickly.

Settled with the idea of just barely managing to scrape the millions of masses struggling to live check to check, the pink-haired man continues to eat ravenously. The meat and noodles dancing on his tongue, while he simultaneously blew at a particular hot piece before he stirred his remaining food more thoroughly with his chopsticks so that the heat would be more evenly distributed.

"Aw mah gawd, nwearly bwurt my tang!" he exclaimed barely choking down a sip of his soda to ease his mouthful down. He pulled out his phone and polished off the rest of his food while mindlessly watching a streamed show that he heard was semi-decent by one of his coworkers. It wasn't really his cup of tea. But it was something to watch and to fill in the lonely nights besides just reading.

He slammed his chair back down on all four legs when he had finished fishing out the last piece of noodle with his chopsticks. Then dumped the greasy carboard containers and disposable chopsticks into the trash. He moved out of the kitchen, stretching his arm over his head with a tried, full body yawn and stretch, the pink-haired man began his nightly routine. A quick trip to the bathroom to use the facilities and brush his teeth and a quick change into comfortable sleepwear before he moved over to his to his sparce bedroom in the back of the loft apartment.

The man climbed the rung of the short ladder steps and hefted up a heavy bag of sand into capable hands at the end of his bed. The whisper soft sound of sand shifting against itself could be heard as the young, pink haired man poured a layer of the grainy sand along his wood floor until there was a thick enough layer that if he got up in the middle of the night, he'd make a noticeable imprint. you couldn't help, but step on was laid down. carefully around his bed. He then took his final trip to the bathroom for the night and then went to bed. His hands deftly strapping on his ankle restraints. Then gave it a gentle yank to make sure it had just enough give from the wood support beam that if he could shift in his sleep, without getting loose.

It was said to him, by a few acquaintances that he had a nasty way of sleepwalking. He didn't believe them at first until he woke up with unexplained bruises that he couldn't recall receiving. There was also an incident a few months back where he woke up in jail in his pajamas bottoms and a white t-shirt. His feet had been bare and muddy, with gravel and bits of grass that had splashed up high enough to dirty the bottom half of his white bunny pajama bottoms. It had been a hell of a time trying to explain to the authorities all he recalled was falling asleep. But thankfully his mother had come and bailed him out, which was one of the last time he had seen her physically.

She was a tall woman, with her brunette hair in a tidy little hair bob. Her movements seemed slightly stiff as if it had been roused from a deep slumber, which honestly could have been the case. She wore a plain, flowery dress and offered a forced smile when one of the police clerks tried to make small talk as they looked at the system for her son's belongings.

"Yuji Itadori, right?" Yuji could remember the portly woman laughing to ease the tension. Then pop into the storage room to pull out the belongings that he had come with, which wasn't much considered he hadn't come with shoes.

"Mom, I don't know what came over me," he recalled saying in shame. He couldn't quite make out her expressions as he bowed his head, not wanting to see her disappointment. She was the only living relative he had, his Grandfather apparently dying when he was too young to remember.

"It's alright Yuji-sweetie," she said absently patting his cheek a little too hard until it felt almost like a reproachful smack at the stinging spot. She had otherwise dismissed his burgeoning concerns, now allowing her son to say a thing more before going on her way in a yellow taxi. His mother had not been much of a mother woman, but he had hoped she would be at least a little worried that her only child had gotten himself in trouble without him being unaware of it. Like he had a tricky bout of amnesia and wandering feet. So, all these little restraints and booby-traps he was setting up was to keep him safe and inside.

The sandbag was set aside when a thick enough layer was imprinted around a large swath around his bed. He then quickly hopped on his bed, body bent instinctively to the side to wipe the imprint away and the grains from his feet. Then he crawled towards the ankle cuffs o neither side of his bed post. He deftly tied his ankles in place and gave an experimental tug to make sure they held. Then set his alarm and turned of the night light. A soft-'good-night' was whispered into the dark, lonely apartment, before he squeezed his eyes real tight and tried to force himself asleep to greet a new day.

xXx

Yuji always woke the same way with his heavy, fumbling hand hitting the snooze buttons multiple times until the annoying noise would wake his sleep-addled brain. His face would always seem to be buried in the pillow, practically smothering him before he awkwardly rolled onto his back so as not to tangle the ankle restraints. He then staired at the fathers of his loft apartment blurrily before letting out a yawning sigh and forcing himself to sit.

His hands moved quickly to take one restraint after the other, noting that neither restraint broke. Yuji then peered over the edge of the bed to see no imprint was made before he plopped his feet down on the side to walk to his loft's ladder steps to go downstairs. Another yawn hit him as he hit the bottom run and he was already scratching his belly wondering if there was anything left in the fridge that could die him over. But after a few banging of fridge doors and cabinets, he sulkily nibbled on some Ritz crackers while sitting on the toilet contemplating life.

Yuji quickly finished his business in the bathroom, washing and brushing his teeth before getting ready for the day. He dressed and was running down the steps, flagging the bus down before it pulled off without him. Then rode it sleepily all the way to the British National Art Gallery while fighting back another yawn. He tried to busy his time on the crowded bus by calling his mother and waiting patiently for the answering machine to start up. He hadn't gotten a live voice on the phone in years, but at this point it was therapeutic to unburden his day by talking with his absentee mother. Yuji sleepily talked to her about his adult-life, no matter how humdrum and boring it was. But other than the number still being active and the voice box never being full, he was unsure if his mother even listened to his many messages.

Honestly, as the bus pulled up to his place of work, Yuji wasn't sure why he had decided to work at the museum or in Britain in the first place. As fascinated as he was about learning about history and different cultures, he had been sequestered to restocking and running the museum's giftshop. He knew he wasn't the brightest crayon on the box or anything, but he did feel like his talents, whatever they were, were being wasted standing their hawking historically accurate and inaccurate wares. If it wasn't for the coffee in the breakroom and the stale donuts, he was sure he would be a zombie on his feet, instead of a bored worker scrolling through his phone until another customer popped up.

"I can't wait until we go out on Saturday. 7pm, right?" The cute nineteen-year-old café worker at the museum eatery piped up, startling Yuji to nearly drop his phone.

He had been looking at bears attacking and running away from random things and it was with a guilty blush that he stuffed his phone deep into his pants pocket.

"Where are we going again, Yuko? Are you asking me out?" Yuji asked in confusion after discreetly making sure the volume could not be heard.

"You are such a kidder. I love it. You promised to meet at that new Sushi bar over on 4th on Saturday. Something along the lines of showing me he best of Japan in our own backyard," she gushed out excitedly, clearly eager. She had always wanted to try authentic Japanese food but was unsure if the British places she was going too, did it correctly. That was until Yuji, who had been so nice to her since she started working there over the summer, had offered to take her to a place he frequented. Clearly a man born in Japan would know Japanese food.

"Yeah, that sounds… um… that sounds great. I'll see you then," Yuji said with forced cheer. He waved to the excited girl, worried if he might need to see a doctor if he couldn't recall asking a coworker out for dinner.

"I didn't think you would go for a girl like that," cooed Yuji's direct boss, making her presence known with a box of stuffed hippos shoved into his arms.

"Neither did I. You know my type…" Yuji said to the dirty blonde.

"A tall woman with a nice fat ass like," they both said at the same time, before awkwardly laughing.

"Yes, that…" Yuji nodded his head in agreement. "I at first thought I would want someone like Jennifer Lawrence, but ever since listening to Megan Thee Stallion my views have changed."

"Not something a boss wants to hear from their employee. But Yuko Ozawa is cute and sweet even if she's not your usual type. Don't be a jerk and skip out on a date you promised her," warned his female boss, smacking him harshly on his arm.

"I won't," Yuji promised, grimacing. "I just don't remember asking her out," he muttered under his breath. Then he got back to work, grateful for the monotony that offered no more surprises beyond finding a good deal on groceries and trying out a new recipe for dinner before he began his nightly ritual again.

xXx

Yuji could recall going down to sleep, tied and secure, his body already turning to faceplant into his pillow. But never in his short years on his earth, could he remember waking up to such intense pain that it snatched him out of his sleep. He woke up to a throbbing pain in his jaw that ate so viciously at his sleep, that any lingering bit of sleep he might have felt was missing in his desperate need to assuage the pain. He had snorted awake, face planted against sweet smelling grass and dirt. His ears were ringing as he sat up, tenderly cradling his jaw and looking at the two bright sky.

Yuji could feel the wrongness in everything as he realized that as he sat up he wasn't on his old mattress and cold, lonely apartment. But outside sitting on a bed of grass in a field of swaying grass. The pinkette could have been convinced that this was a very vivid dream if it wasn't for the throbbing pain and coppery taste of blood on his lips. He shifted his lower jaw until he could hear it popping back into place with a sickening pop.

"Go back to sleep idiot!" a sinisterly deep, booming voice ordered.

"Hello?" Yuji snapped his head left and right like a confused pup, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He needed an explanation and if that disembodied voice could help in any way possible. The scene before him with the snowcapped mountains in the distance and the lavender fields further down from him would be picturesque if it wasn't frightening.

"You're not supposed to be here," the disembodied voice seemed irritated.

"Y… Yes, I completely agree," Yuji said shakily. He still didn't know where to look. "Where are you?" his eyes skated from right to left as if he would soon snag on someone he had conveniently missed in his spiraling anxiety.

"Surrender your body to Sakuna!" demanded the voice, a little more calmly as if truly talking to an imbecile that needed things spelled out carefully for them.

"Surrender the body, what body? My body? I don't think I can do that," Yuji confessed apologetically, patting down his chest. He didn't like the idea of surrendering up his body to a perfect stranger, even if the name 'Sakuna' sounded vaguely familiar. Even the demanding voice had some ringing of familiarity that eluded him every time he tried to grasp at it. Like an idea that was just on the surface that would dip and avoid his desperate need to know.

"Oh, the idiots in control again. Just great!" growled out the disembodied voice, ignoring Yuji's questions.

It was just then that Yuji, thankfully wearing a pair of casual clothes instead of the pjs he had gone to sleep in, found a lumpy, cylindrical object in his pocket with Japanese script written around the dirty, mummified cloth. 'What is this?' he thought quizzically to himself even as his heart throbbed in his ears. He tugged on the edge of the cloth with his fingernail, surprised something so tightly bond was being tugged free so easily.

It was only when he felt an overwhelming presence behind him that he gave pause and whipped around only to see a large castle mansion behind him and a man framed by the topmost storied window with red shutters.

Yuji waved weakly. "H… hello," he said just loud enough for the man above to hear. A shaky smile faintly curled up on his bloody lips as the man waved back. "Hi."

"What are you doing?" the heavily accented English words came from an angry man who pushed the waving man aside. His machine gun already trained on a still perplexed Yuji.

"No, no, no!" he yelped, raising both hands up to show he was unarmed and a non-threat. But already both men at the window were now shooting down on him.

"Don't just stand there. Run!" the booming disembodied voice ordered the trembling and highly shaken Yuji.

"No, no, no please!" the pinkette cried out even as he twisted around to leave.

Yuji didn't have to be told twice as he took off running, zigzagging the best he could down the sloping field. The bullets whizzing past his head. He dared not slowed down, even when he tripped and fell. He was quick to get back up to his wobbly feet and take off running as the men from the window pursued him closely behind. The Pinkette was thanking all that was Holy that he still worked out on his off days and was still very much in shape as he managed to lose them somehow in the wild grass. He pulled up the hood of his hoodie to hide his face as he got closer to the European village below. His sneakered shoes crunching loudly on the cobbled streets.

His body ducked quickly around the corner of a crumbling building when he spotted men similarly dressed as his pursuers walking down the narrow street he almost took. He peeked quickly to make sure they were no longer walking his way before he went down the eerily vacant streets. Church bells ringing in the background, pace slowly somewhat when he started to see civilian people walking down to what looked like was the town square. People were quietly gathered around a young Asian man with raven black hair and dark eyes wearing a white uniformed school shirt and black drawstring pants. There appeared to be a sword wrapped in cloth on his back, with a black strap to hold it in place to his chest.

"As you may know, my name is Yuta Okkotsu and I have safely eliminated the curse plaguing your village. You will no longer need to hide in fear anymore. However, as 'thanks' I need you to do one thing for me because there is a traitor among us and that's 'kneel'" he ordered, the last words in the villager's native language.

He said something in the villagers' native tongue and all, but Yuji knelt. His body dropping down at the last minute when he realized that in this deceptively smart act, he was singled-out as the lone stranger in the crowd.

"I know you," he said in the yawning silence, pointing his finger at Yuji. He had seen the pictures of the missing Jujutsu student.

"Me? Hi… um…" Yuji slowly stood up, seeing no point in kneeling now that he was pointed out. He waved halfheartedly hoping to clear up the misunderstanding.

"Murderer," the young Asian man, barely a few years older than him accused.

"No… no. I'm not a murderer. My name is Yuji Itadori. I'm trying to get back to my apartment in London. I work at a museum as a gift shop worker. It's an honest job, very far from murdering." He began to exclaim and mutter nervously at the villagers around him stood and looked at him in judgement. It felt like a physical touch, their judgement that had him hunching his shoulders as if he could hide in himself. Laughable.

"Yuji Itadori, from the gift shop. Will you return that cursed object?" the raven-haired man requested gently as if not to frighten. He held out his hand out to the younger mail, hawk-like sullen dark eyes watching as a weak-kneed Yuji reluctantly trudged towards him.

"The… the what? Oh, all right. Oh, you mean this?" Yuji asked as he righted himself after being pushed harshly by someone when he didn't move fast enough. He wanted to turn around and shake his fist at the interloper who pushed but was unsure of which them was the perpetrator when all their eyes looked hateful and judgmentally at him. So, he gritted his teeth, jaw still throbbing dully in pain as he presented the man the cursed object even as the cloth unraveled to show a mummified finger with a dark gnarly fingernail.

"You will not give him the finger!" the disembodied voice ordered. Yuji's hands curled around the severed finger, hiding it mostly from view in his tight fist. His face twisting in horror and surprise at his body moving without his permission.

"I strongly encourage you to return that. You'll upset Rika-chan," Yuta said softly, concerned for the pinkette's safety.

"I… I'm not," Yuji stuttered trying desperately to uncurl his non-responsive hand from its fist. He smacked the arm with his other hand, gently encouraging it to obey him and release when all those eyes were on him. "It's like my fingers are frozen," he chuckled nervously as he forced his fingers out of the fist one finger at a time. He finally revealed the gnarled finger and plucked it from his other hand to give to Yuto only for that hand to snatch back and away as if pulled when Yuto's fingers tried to grasp it.

"I will not ask again. Rika-chan will not except this for much longer," he warned placidly, although his eyes had hardened in frustration.

"I did not do that on purpose," Yuji pleaded for Yuto to understand. He was in a foreign place, surrounded by hostile people, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him. He was scared and anxious for everything to go back to bland and normal. "I don't know what's happening to me."

He strained as he pivoted his body, trying to move the hand with the cursed object closer to the seething Yuto. "Just take it. Take it, take it!" he begged, only for his legs to mutiny against his will and start walking away, fingers once more clasped tightly around the finger. Many hands tried to grab him as he tried to calming breaths begging his body to stop and obey him.

What looked like Yuto's henchmen, including the window guys who first pursued him, surrounded him and began to drag them away. He could hear Yuto gently calming down the upset crowd even as burly men in business suits tugged him away to be 'dealt with'.

Just as a nosy villager grabbed his hand to yank the cursed object out of his, Yuji's eyes just felt suddenly heavy between one blink and the next. Then suddenly he was fully awake, standing there, surrounded by dead men and a woman, with dried flecks of blood caking his hands. The cursed object back in his hand

"No, the idiots back!" growled out the disembodied voice in displeasure.

Yuji looked nervously around the dead bodies. He was afraid to touch them, knowing already they were dead. But flabbergasted at how they got that way when he was clearly outnumbered, and escape was choked off from all sides. "Sorry," weakly fell from his lips. It was reflexive, since nothing could undo them being dead.

When he raised his hands in surrender he looked in surprise that his hand was caked in blood as if he ripped the object out of someone's body. It was even more grotesque caked in wet, cooling blood, bits of congealing around the wrinkles of the knuckles. But just as shocked and horrified of it as he was to drop it as if he was burnt, he could feel his same hand trying to push it towards his mouth.

"Sakuna, you will eat the finger now!" the disembodied voice shouted.

Yuji's head jerked to the side, almost forget completely that there was a demanding voice plaguing him.

"I don't want to eat the finger," he yelped. Then clamped his mouth shut when he felt his one hand tried to force the mummified finger pass his lips. Blood smeared everywhere as if he was a cannibal luxuriating in blood of his victims. He looked at the villagers for help. "He—" had barely formed before the finger was shoved into his mouth and his mouth instinctively swallowed the bloody finger. "Oh God, I'm just gonna.." he wheezed out panicking.

Yuji wanted to throw up and try to get ride of the finger he swallowed for no damn reason, but he was already fleeing because who in their right mind would understand that Yuji had no choice in the matter when it came to everything happening today. All he could do was run, villagers, Yuto and a Kaiju like white monster closely behind him as he blacked out between one step and other only to wake up safely in his home. A metallic taste in his mouth for biting his tongue by accident, ankle restraints still on, and the mother of all headaches pounding against his temples.

"Thank God that was just a dream?!" he exclaimed pressing the meat of his palms against his eyes as he tried to take in one shaky breath after another. His heart was thundering in his chest as if he had run a marathon and then hit with a delivery truck.

"Well, not all of it. We did get married," a male voice rumbled next to him. Beautiful blue eyes as deep as an ocean looked at the perplexed younger man in amusement as he gleefully showed off his gold ring before clinking it against Yuji's. The handsome face looked so familiar even as he had to close his own eyes against the blinding, appraising look of those intense blue eyes. He wanted to remember so badly where he remembered the man beside him from, but his head throbbed harder, the more he tried to remember.

"Yuji, don't you dare go ignoring me after we reconnected and got married," the silver-haired man whined in barely veiled amusement. He settled on top of Yuji, caging him in and looking down on the pink-haired student that had been missing for years. He had almost given up seeing him until now and now that he had him, he was not going to let him out of his sight.

"Gojo-sensei leave me alone," whined Yuji wanting to wiggle free and bury his heated face back into the pillow.

"Oh, so Sakuna and Geto couldn't hide everything," Gojo hummed happily. Glad there was a chance they could undo the curse his new husband was under.