Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Blood was everywhere.

On the floor, on the wall, and sure enough, a splatter on the ceiling.

On his shoes, his hands, caked under his fingernails, in his hair, and halfway on its merry fucking way to being in his eyes. Which would be concerning because Yuuji was one hundred percent fucking sure that Mahito had to have had an STD. He should wash that off as soon as possible.

“Fuck,” he breathed. His hands shook so hard, it was causing his teeth to chatter. Or vice versa. Not good. A hysterical laugh bubbled up within him, only it wasn’t able to escape due to his throbbing throat. No fucking shit, Yuuji. Mahito’s head is pâté. Not fucking good at all.

The rational part of Yuuji’s brain knew he must be spiraling, and very quickly. No amount of late night true crime television with his grandpa had prepared him for this.

“ Fuck!”

No, nothing could have prepared him for bashing a man’s head in with a lamp, even if it was in self defense. Mahito, no doubt, had had it coming when he decided to try to drug and rape him, but even in court, unfortunately, self defense only goes so far. And Yuuji, well, he’s still lucid enough to know that this? This bloodbath? Would be hard pressed to be ruled in his favor.

“Fuck, I’m exhausted..” He could feel his eyes swimming, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to scrub across them. “Think, Yuuji!”

Who could he call? He loved his sensei, but damn if Gojo wasn’t always busy, he was overseas right now, in fact. And not to mention Megumi and Nobara, bless them, were overly righteous sometimes. He could hear the admonishing now, ‘ Yuuji! What were you thinking?! We’re all for justice, but did the thought ‘this is too much’ even cross your mind?’ No, definitely not. He couldn’t call them, no matter how much he wanted the comfort of his best friends. And Choso.. Choso was just now getting his life back together after losing Yuki in an accident last year, and he couldn’t in very well conscience spring this on him. He sighed, I guess there’s nothing for it.

He scrubbed what excess blood he could off his hand onto his already soaked jeans and pulled his now close-to-cracked-beyond-repair phone out of his back pocket. The fleeting, petulant, inconsequential thought of, not my phone , crossed his mind, but really, the expense of a new one was the least of his worries at the moment.

Fuck, come on Yuuji. He won’t be mad. Just call him!

Tapping the call button with trembling hands, he waited for it to go through.

A slam, a rustle, and then a gruff, “What is it, brat? Make it quick.”

His jaw worked and his mouth watered. Open, closed, open, closed. Do. Not. Throw up.

“Brat?”

“I- Suku-nii..” The grit of his voice surprised him, even knowing how it ended up that way. He grasped for a wisp of memory. Thinking back on it, he hadn’t realized at the time that he had been yelling during the act. No doubt, it exasperated his already ravaged vocal cords. Once again, fuck , they were out in the middle of nowhere but knowing his luck—case in point, Mahito’s involved existence—, there could’ve been a night jogger or some shit passing by at that very moment.

“Aw shit, what’d you do now, kid? What the fuck is wrong with your voice? You good? You never call me that unless you need something.” And if Yuuji didn’t know any better, he’d say there might be some minuscule pout in that last statement.

Years of forensic documentaries ran through his head at once, self preservation winning out. So instead of telling his eldest brother what was going on—the going on of excessive use of force—out of fear his call may somehow be recorded and come back to bite him in the ass, he said in the steadiest voice he could muster, “Suku-nii, listen. You got any paper? Pen and paper.”

A long exhale, another rustle. “Yeah.. yeah, just give me a second, Yuuji.” The phone clattered to what Yuuji assumed must be a table.

After a moment more of background interference and a few quick stomps, the phone was picked back up and Sukuna said, “Alright, brat. Shoot.”

“Don’t ask anything, just come to this address. And politely haul ass.”

A snort, “Alright, give it.”

After telling his brother the address, he said, “Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Memorize it.”

“..Okay..”

“Memorized it?”

An exasperated huff. “Yes, Yuuji.”

“Burn it.”

“What?”

“Burn it, Sukuna.”

“…Fine.” A catch of a lighter. “Alright, brat. Enough of your weird shit. I’m on my way.”

“Love you, Suku-nii.” But his brother had already hung up before he could hear his reply.

The short conversation had offered him mind-saving respite, but now the silence was back, not even a cricket calling outside, and it made his skin crawl. The blood was cold—not helping at all against the frigid air coming through cracked, broken out windows—and tacky now, and the residual on his hands was simultaneously flaking off and keeping his fingers stuck together.

His pants were cold, uncomfortable, and stiff. And fuck, he really hoped he had no open wounds.

He was just cold. The shock which he knew he certainly must be in was leeching out any sliver of warmth.

And again, fuck, he just realized he said the address over the phone. So much for covering his tracks. His brain was so fuzzy right now, he just couldn’t get it together.

He wished he were more in denial about it, but all he could muster at the moment was apathy and a grim sort of satisfaction. And he hated to admit it, but.. awe. It was surprising how easy Mahito’s head caved once he got going. Like some grotesque pumpkin, brain matter for seeds.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the scene in front of him. It had been an accident… mostly.

Mahito had been waiting for him in here when Yuuji came barging in. He had made a big show of it all, his body language was loose and confident, but ready, a predator without a doubt, and his voice carried malicious cheer. He had said, “Aww, are you looking for Junpei? How sweet of you to be his knight in shining armor, but that’s not quite how I planned for tonight to play out, you see. I wanna see you cry, Yuuji!”

He had moved so fast, Yuuji was unprepared from the shock of it all. Mahito grabbed him by the hair, spun with his back to Yuuji’s chest, and threw him over his shoulder.

His scalp was screaming, he was sure it had separated from his skull. His back had smacked the grimy floor so hard, the wind was knocked out of him with a muted wheeze, pain searing his lungs like he had breathed in salt water. Mahito had taken the opportunity of his agonized floundering to drop his full weight onto Yuuji’s chest and wrap his hands around his throat in a lethal grip. Any tighter and Yuuji was sure he would have crushed his trachea. Yuuji had fought like a wild animal, scratching at Mahito’s wrists and forearms. To no avail, the grip didn’t slacken, if anything it ratcheted up to a new degree—a smiting reprimand against his previous assumption—and he had staticky blindness flying across his eyes. Without anything else to do, in a desperate attempt to get him off, he reached his hands up to claw at Mahito’s eyes.

Mahito recoiled with a booming, “Fucking bitch!” He snatched Yuuji up by his hair again, only to crack his head back down on the floor.

It had made him see stars, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t dare. Mahito’s hands had released his throat and in a punishing scratch, precious oxygen poured in his lungs in a needy gasp. Seeing his only window, he slammed the heel of his hand up into Mahito’s nose. The spurt of blood was immediate and it had dislodged Mahito enough for him to throw him off.

He scrambled to his feet to turn to run, but a large hand caught his ankle like a steel trap. He tumbled back to the floor and his hip collided with an audible crack from taking the brunt of it. Better his hip than his face.

Mahito stood above him and brutally stomped him in his ribs and belly, the repeated blows licking like fire on his skin. “You’re going to pay for that, you fucking cunt!”

Mahito grappled his way back on top of him, pinning his hands in one of his own in the process. The grip was fierce and his bones ground painfully against each other.

With his other hand, he seized Yuuji’s jaw, his touch not even a degree softer than the other. His jaw creaked in protest under the pressure.

Yuuji’s struggling had not budged him in the slightest. Mahito was barely even out of breath. And it terrified him.

Suddenly, he leaned in so close to Yuuji’s face, their eyelashes nearly touched, and the blood from his nose dripped onto Yuuji’s cheeks. His pupils were blown so wide with frenzied excitement, only the narrow rings of heterochromatic irises were left.

“Why’d you do that?” He pouted, “That wasn’t very nice. But listen, even though you’ve been bad, I have something very fun for you. Well.. maybe not for you, but definitely for me!”

The voice was muffled under the roaring of blood in Yuuji’s ears, sloshing wetly with every thump of his rabbit-fast heart.

With the hand that held his jaw, he retrieved a small, green pill. He repositioned himself on Yuuji, pinning his arms to the floor under sharp knees, before letting go of his wrists to replace the hold on his nose in a cruel pinch. Oh, please, not again!

“Open wide~!”

And in no world would Yuuji have ever opened his mouth willingly, but he had already been strangled and his brain was still desperate for air. He held out for as long as he could, he wasn’t sure if it was a minute or even two, pressure burning and building exponentially in his lungs, but it was a foolish endeavor, for Mahito waited patiently, poised like a cobra ready to strike.

All too soon, his vision flickered dangerously, and his own body turned against him to open his mouth for a heave of air. At the first sign of it, Mahito, quick like a clap of lightning, shoved the pill down his throat with two fingers and slammed his jaw shut. His teeth throbbed. God, just let me breathe!

“Swallow,” Mahito growled.

He swallowed without further prompting, the ability to breathe was far more important at the moment than whatever the fuck that was. The pill would take time, death by asphyxiation was swift.

“Good boy,” he said, this time in an eerie purr, and let go of his nose.

Yuuji inhaled greedily, huffing like a steam engine. The sound of air going through his nostrils echoed loudly in the silence of the room.

Mahito only stared at him with malevolently glittering eyes for what seemed like forever, but had to be only a few seconds, before breaking the silence in a brightly chipper voice. “That should be kicking in soon! And you know, I was going to wait, but you just had to be so mean! I think it’ll be better for us both if you’re at least awake for the fun part, hmm? A treat for me for your bad behavior.”

Meanwhile, primal terror was ricocheting through him, his heart hammered in his chest. His mind was searching for any way out, eyes darting around the room for anything, anything!

His gaze fell to the metal lamp lying on its side near him, just a few fingers’ length out of reach. His eyes flitted back to Mahito’s face, praying that he hadn’t caught him looking.

Luckily, he hadn’t. He had already unzipped his  pants, freeing his hard cock, and was too busy twisted halfway around trying to unbutton Yuuji’s own. The sight of it jutting so close to his face nearly made him physically ill.

Completely in survival mode, adrenaline strengthened the buck of his hips. Again, he dislodged Mahito just enough to shift over the needed, precious few inches.

He grabbed the lamp in an upside down hand, and as Mahito turned back around with a furious expression, starting with a, “Listen here, you little-“

He never finished. Yuuji brought the base of the lamp down against his head, hard.

Mahito fell back with a groan.

Yuuji scrambled to reverse their positions, completely disregarding the sickening bulge beneath him. The hit hadn’t knocked his attacker out as he had hoped. He knew that if he had any chance of leaving here alive, he needed to incapacitate him.

He swung the lamp down again, and then again, the crunch of the bridge of his nose shattering under the force accompanied it. Disturbingly, Mahito started to giggle, blood coating his teeth. His erection hadn’t flagged whatsoever, and it frightened Yuuji like a mouse staring into the eyes of a very large cat. So, he hit him again. And again.

But by the time he came to, his hindbrain finally sure of his safety, he found that Mahito’s face had been completely disfigured, his skull concave like a flattened football. He sprung up from the body to stare down at it in horror—at first—at what he’d done.

And then he just kept staring, had been ever since.

Mahito’s chilling laugh sounded around him, an oscillating thing in an echo chamber, but sooner than he’d thought possible, he heard the door creak open at the front of the derelict house, ripping him out of his daze. How long have I been looking at a corpse?!

“Yuuji! Where are you?”

“Back here,” he rasped.

“This place looks like shit.” Yuuji could hear his brother’s voice moving through the house. “Seriously, what are you doing out here, brat?” Closer now, the concern surprisingly evident. “Why the hell are you all the way out in the boo..nies..?” His voice trailed off as he came through the doorway.

“Yuuji..,” he whispered, disbelief written all through his tone, “You didn’t…”

He turned toward his big brother, his voice suddenly failing, lip quivering, eyes welling with tears. A cry broke forth, throat still ruined all to hell, “Suku-nii!”

•••

Sukuna couldn’t deny the thrum of joy he got when he saw his baby brother’s name pop up on the screen of his phone. It’d been too long. The effect it had on him was like an addict’s high from getting pure Colombian after intense withdrawal.

Schooling his features from any sign of excitement, not that he could fool his closest and most observant companion, he immediately left Uraume, along with Kenjaku, where they stood and answered the call as he closed his bedroom door.

The rare feeling lasted all of ten seconds before it was replaced with ice cold rage when he heard his baby’s voice. He was certain at that very moment that he’d murder whoever made it sound that way. He’d comfort Yuuji through the loss later if the person was somehow important to him. Please don’t be a lover. The thought of some worthless rat—like Gojo—putting their hands on his precious baby brother made him sick. And taking into account how strange Yuuji was acting, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it a quick, clean death. Uraume had their work cut out for them.

Unable to stand it any longer, he hung up the call without giving Yuuji a chance at goodbye. He was itching in his skin at the need to be by his brother’s side yesterday.

“I’m leaving.”

“Yes, master. Is the boy alright?”

“I don’t know.”

Kenjaku sneered, “Ooo~ did that twerp get into trouble?”

Graciously, Sukuna chose to ignore him. The urge to strangle him for his insolence was far too strong and the sand of his iron-fisted control was slipping through his fingers. He didn’t need the collateral, especially when said collateral was unfortunately needed alive for business.

“Would you like for me to accompany you?”

“No. But I’ll contact you for clean up,” he replied with a feral grin, in which Uraume returned. Savage glee filled them up, a manic glittering in their eye at the sight of their master’s imminent judgment, at the unbridled power quietly thrumming in every movement. Tidying the mess after their master’s wake of devastation—an unfortunate, unlucky soul laid to waste—would be a privilege.

“Ha! He must’ve done it now, huh? Can I come watch you punish him? I know you’re dying for it,” Kenjaku sung lasciviously.

Sukuna’s jaw ticked, the smile wiped clean from his face. He just didn’t know when to quit.

Uraume lost the expression as well, reverting back to their usual vapid state, though Sukuna could see the disapproval in the slight downturn of their mouth all the same.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m this close to blowing your fucking head off,” he showed with two fingers, “You’re on paper thin fucking ice and your time in my good graces is rapidly coming to a close.”

Uraume, ever loyal, bowed and said, “Have a safe trip, master.” With an infinitesimal quirk of their lips, they continued, “And happy hunting.”

They were intimately aware of how he could change on a dime, so he appreciated their muted, subdued way of diffusing the situation, for he himself didn’t know if he could hold back at the moment from such a show of blatant disrespect.  That worm has no right to even think of a single hair on Yuuji’s head. He was sure that his oldest friend—and he used the honor of the title sparingly—could tell his nerves were close to being shot, as they always were when Yuuji was in trouble. So instead, he saved them the trouble of an extra job of cleaning viscera and left without another word. Taking a last glance at Kenjaku and his newly developed clammy pallor, he was pleased—but not yet mollified—to see that his very real threat had flown true.

The keys to his car jangled in hand as he jogged—and he wouldn’t be caught dead jogging for anyone besides Yuuji—to the vehicle in his driveway while he pulled up the address on GPS. Three hours away. He murmured to himself, “What the fuck are you doing out all the way out there, baby?”

Breaking multiple traffic laws and never once falling to the point of the speed limit, he cut travel time down by half. During the drive, the beast in him was frothing at the mouth for retribution. Kenjaku, that lecherous bastard, was sure to die soon for the slight against Yuuji’s honor. Business be damned. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t take care of such a problem? It’d be a headache, but there were too many peons to count that would be ready to replace him, ones that would not test his limits. Ones that would be smart enough to know that Yuuji, and anything in relation to him, were strictly off limits. The only thing holding him back from turning the car around to exact vehement justice was the echoing sound of Yuuji’s ruined voice in his ear. His poor baby. He’d make it all better.

When he finally arrived, his nerves were on their last leg, and the sight Yuuji’s car in the driveway of the dilapidated, graffiti-covered house was not helping in the slightest. This was strike two against the mystery person he was going to dispatch. Yes, slowly, he decided. Maybe he’d start with fingers.. or toes, so they could watch as he skinned his way up their body, flaying them open to the bone. Something as divine as Yuuji shouldn’t even set eyes on a place like this. He could already hear the melody of the scrape of his knife against their tibia now.

He was sure it was the fastest he had ever moved as he made his way onto the rotten, crooked porch with a couple steps broken in half and some missing entirely. The door was hanging by a single hinge, and the beast inside him was clawing at its bindings, roiling just beneath his skin, angry at the lack of violence so far that it hungered for. He made himself talk in a light tone as he worked his way through the trashed house, struggling for any thread of control he had left. He couldn’t show his face to Yuuji when this violence was so close to the surface. It would scare him and he couldn’t have that. Especially since it’d been so long since he saw him last.

Locating Yuuji by his voice, he was stopped short at the sight in front of him. The room was small, the only furniture was a bare, filthy, twin sized mattress shoved in the far corner and a battered, broken lamp. A body, a very, very, dead one was on the floor in a pool of blood. And it wasn’t confined to just the pool; the body’s head was demolished and the remains of it were written all over the walls, all over Yuuji. Like some fucked up alternate reality Carrie. A split second more of inspection yielded fruit: he knew that hair and he knew those stitch tattoos on the arms. Mahito. What the fuck did Yuuji have to do with Mahito?

His sweet baby brother stood above the cadaver, still as stone.

“Yuuji… You didn’t…”

Fury all encompassing made him twitch. He only just noticed Mahito’s dirty, shriveled dick was hanging out of his pants. Outrage cascaded over him at the fact that Mahito had the gall to attempt to hurt, to rape, who he knew was his brother, had made Yuuji get his sweet, nurturing hands dirty. He was comfortably accustomed to it, but his baby was not supposed to witness, or even be capable of, such brutality. He nearly vibrated with the need to bring that cunt back to life to rip his cock off and shove it down his throat before tearing his heart out with his bare hands. To slice his stomach open and make him eat his own intestines. But most of all, he was angry at himself, furious in fact. Where was he when his brother needed him? This was his job, to keep anything unsavory away, yet Yuuji had to do it himself. Alone.

Then Yuuji turned to face him, stone giving way to violent onslaught of emotion, wrecked. Agony speared him through the heart. His jaw clenched as he was forced to watch his brother break before him. He swallowed. Beneath all the blood, deep, purple bruising colored his baby brother’s jaw in the distinct markings of fingers, handprints wrapped around his throat. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, the strangulation had popped the blood vessels. It was enough to give rise of emotion in him that felt like he was being rended limb from limb. Not his angel...

“Suku-nii,” he sobbed.

He could kill himself for his failure.

With determined strides he went to his brother and cradled his blood-riddled face in his hands. Yuuji’s pupils were dilated, and it was immediately obvious to Sukuna that aside from the after effects of an extremely vicious taking of life, Mahito had drugged him. With what he wasn’t sure yet, most likely a depressant if Yuuji’s sluggishness was any indication. It was a miracle Yuuji was standing and he hadn’t found him unconscious face first on the floor. He’d deal with this particular discovery soon, but he had pressing matters to attend to first before his baby crashed. He asked softly, as if speaking to a frightened, cornered animal, “What happened, baby?”

He had been able to conclude it on his own, but Yuuji, being a soft and gentle creature, a genuine ray of sunshine, would need to talk about it. He didn’t mind, he’d stew in the details as punishment. He’d prefer it if they could leave first, but he had to get Yuuji out of those clothes and talking would keep him somewhat aware. “Lift your arms for me, sweetheart.”

“I couldn’t get ahold of Junpei,” Yuuji replied quietly, nearly slurring, as he slowly did as he was told in uncoordinated movements.

“Yeah?” Sukuna carefully rolled the sullied hoodie up his abdomen. The removal revealed several obviously boot shaped bruises. Sukuna could have growled like a rabid dog.

“..Yeah.”

“And then what, baby?” He asked as he gently took one arm out after the other and  painstakingly avoided Yuuji’s face as he pulled it off his head.

“And then.. Mahito called me.”

“And what did he say?” He knelt down to untie Yuuji’s soaked shoes.

He looked down at him with those large, amber eyes, foggy but fighting hard to think, as he said, “Um.. he said.. he said that he’d hurt Junpei.. if I didn’t come alone.”

Sukuna repressed the urge to hit something, damn Yuuji’s selflessness. Instead, he did something actually productive. Taking off Yuuji’s shoes, leaving the socks. “And so you came? And didn’t tell anyone?”

He winced internally, he couldn’t quite keep his tone from being clipped. It wasn’t his baby’s fault.

“Yeah… I didn’t know.. who to call.. Are you mad at me?”

“Sweetheart.. there are no words to describe the depth of ‘mad’ I am right now. But not at you, baby. Never you. You hear me? I am so proud of you for defending yourself against that sick fuck.”

A sniffle brought his attention back upwards, away from the shoes. Yuuji’s lips were quivering, snot was running down his face, while tears flowed heavily on his bruised cheeks. “Really?” He croaked.

His heart cleaved in two. God, he was falling apart here. “Yes, really. Now, let’s get those pants off, yeah? I’m going to leave your underwear on, okay?”

“Okay, Suku-nii…”

He stayed kneeling, it’d be easier on them both if he pulled the pants off this way. Unbuttoning the jeans, his mind raced on another topic to keep Yuuji standing upright. He was so fucking proud. “I’m going to take us home, but we’re going to stop at a motel first. Lift your foot for me.. perfect. You need to get that blood off. Other foot.. great job, baby. That sound good, Yuu?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. Now fully bare of outerwear, he shivered from the chill. Any other time, Sukuna would have admired the view, but now Yuuji looked pitiful. Cold, shaking, traumatized, and not even fully coherent, this was not a moment he wanted to bring his desire anywhere near.

“What’d I ask?”

“..Motel.”

“Great job, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” Sukuna took off his jacket and draped it over Yuuji’s shoulders before zipping it up to his chin. It dwarfed him, falling to just above his knees. Which was good, it’d keep him warmer. He’d left the discarded clothes where they laid, but took Yuuji’s keys and phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He’d have to buy him a new one. “Perfect, Yuuji, all done.”

“Mm.”

“Last question, Yuu. Do you know what he gave you?”

“Dunno.. green pill...”

Most likely rohypnol, then. Nothing for it now, it’ll have to run its course, he sighed, resigned. At the very least, he doubted he’d need to use narcan.  He hated feeling so powerless, he was the Sukuna for fuck’s sake. A small solace was that it couldn’t have come from him. He didn’t deal in date rape drugs. He didn’t know what he’d do if Mahito had used something from his own supply, all he knew was that he wouldn’t have been responsible for the havoc he’d wreak because of it.

He scooped his baby up in a bridal carry, clutching him close to his chest and as tight as he dared, and said softly, “Great job, angel. You’ve been fighting so hard, and now, your work here is done. Sleep, baby, and let your aniki take care of the rest.”

It was merely a second before Yuuji lost the battle he was never meant to win. It was gratifying still to feel the firm weight of his brother in his arms after so long, to know the only reason Yuuji was finally resting was because he trusted his big brother. There had never been a better feeling in all the world.

Swiftly, but safely, gingerly, he took Yuuji out to his car and gently placed him in the passenger seat. He leaned it all the way back and laid Yuuji on his side. He didn’t need Yuuji choking on his own vomit when he was unaware, busy with what needed to be done.

He hurried around to the drivers side to start the car and crank up the heat. Yuuji completed his work, but his own was not yet finished. He went back into the house.

Sukuna would love little more than chopping up Mahito’s body into cubes to channel his fury, though there’d be little satisfaction in it since Mahito wasn’t alive to suffer. His monster was near demanding of it, riding him hard. But Yuuji. Yuuji was ‘little more’, and his little warrior needed him. Urgently.

This was too personal, too painful to allow Uraume to do the job. And right now, what he needed was not meticulous clean up with not a spot left. Right now, he needed to watch this fucking shithole burn to the ground. So that’s exactly what he did.

First, he lit the mattress on fire. Good riddance. Then, he made his way through the house lighting what little there was but he knew would burn. Random, out of place curtains compared to the emptiness of the house. Broken, but dry, floorboards. He lucked out and found a large, half empty bottle of ninety one percent isopropyl alcohol as well as a quarter of a fifth of vodka in the kitchen along with a rag and hand towel. Perfect. He doused as much as he could with what little he had and lit it, confident it would be enough as the bedroom was already engulfed in flames. With any luck, the eventual authorities that would be dispatched to the scene would merely believe that some drug addicted squatter had nodded off in a high and dropped a cigarette or something. With the state of the house, it wouldn’t be far off, and no rural, two-bit cop or fire fighter would care to open an investigation, even if the skull of the body they found was absolutely demolished. Hopefully the place would already be burned to a crisp before they got there.

Next, Sukuna ran out to Yuuji’s car, driving it a little ways down the street, and parked it on the side of the road. Opening the console, he was awarded with what he was looking for: a napkin and pen. Quickly he scrawled down, ‘Broke down, be back soon’ , and placed the note on the dash where it could be read through the windshield. If someone ended up calling the authorities over the burning house, Yuuji’s car did not need to be in the fucking driveway. He would send Uraume to come pick it up later.

Sukuna hurried down the half-mile to his own car, he had already spent enough time here. Since he was denied his own involvement in Mahito’s death, he had single-minded focus to take care of Yuuji in any way possible.

When he was finally in his seat, he put the location of the cheapest motel nearby into the GPS. They were so far out, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to scope out places. Choosing the shittiest place around ensured that there would be as little prying eyes as possible. If anyone did happen to see him carrying an unconscious boy covered in blood into his room, he wasn’t worried. People in the gutter usually had inherent instinct to mind their business, to keep their head down and avert their eyes, especially when seeing anything of the obviously unsavory sort; you just don’t bring trouble to your own front door. In the end, no one was trying to die in order to be an unsung hero. That was just the way of the world. Something he learned very young.

It had seemed like forever to Sukuna before they finally got there, though according to maps, it couldn’t have been over twenty minutes. Even so, he’s positive he spent most of it throwing lingering glances at his baby brother, paying close attention to his chest, watching for steady, even breaths. It was obsessive to a certain point, he knew, but he was feeling far too tattered around the edges for his liking to care. The thought that Yuuji could’ve been far worse had pushed him to the edge.

Yuuji had always been strong. Since childhood he’d always had an athletic build—even when he never had any interest in putting in work at the gym—by having been deeply involved in various sports; track, basketball, baseball, a short stint in karate, not to mention Sukuna’s own teachings to his little brother. He knew logically that in a fair fight against Mahito, his brother had fair chances of winning—which was proven tonight—but he also knew that Mahito didn’t fight fair. It wasn’t in his nature. And tonight had been close. Far too close. Mahito had been able to forcibly restrain and drug Yuuji, and it was unacceptable. If Yuuji had been only a shred weaker, if it hadn’t been a battle of desperation versus entertainment.. it made him sick to think about. Made him sick to think of his baby passing out and being subjected to Mahito’s violation. To think he’d been so close to death. Because Sukuna knew. Knew that Yuuji would be dead right now. Mahito wouldn’t have left him alive knowing Sukuna would hunt him down if Yuuji was able to tell. He held the steering wheel in a straining, white-knuckled grip to keep from trembling from the fear of it. Mahito’s only failure was that he didn’t take into account that Yuuji was a fighter, one that’d fight to the bitter end, with adrenaline to aid him in burning through the roofie for a short time. Yes, the only failing was that he didn’t account for Yuuji’s fierce will to live, something that no one can measure in man.

Sukuna had the balls to admit that he had failed the only person important to him. If he had let Yuuji know how he felt, if he didn’t treat his baby so much like an afterthought to keep him away from his own perversion, Yuuji would have called him before he ever came to Mahito. At the very least, he would have had more training and that bastard would have never been able to overpower him in any shape or form. Sukuna’s own negligence had cost him, had cost them both dearly. And maybe it was more than Yuuji was able to pay, only time would tell.

He would rectify it though, and giving Yuuji a bath was the first step. The motel didn’t disappoint, in a certain aspect. It was only one story with all doors having outside access, the sign was crooked out front and only a few letters were actually illuminating. The lights themselves were a dim and sickly yellow, moths surrounding them, flickering in and out like Morse code. Dot-dot-dot, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dot.

It was like there was a physical tether binding him to the car, he didn’t want to go. He grimaced, the faster he went, the faster he could come back to Yuuji and help him.

As he entered the establishment—if it could be called one—, the receptionist took one look at him before he wisely decided to make his computer seem as interesting as possible. Good. It wasn’t everyday that you’d see a tattooed face reeking of smoke and blood. This one had the instinct he predicted. Smart.

“I need a room for the night,” Sukuna said gruffly, no patience for niceties.

“Yes, sir. We have the vacancy. What do you need?”

“Single. Queen.”

“Yes, sir. Just a moment please.”

“Mm.”

After pulling it up on the computer, he said, “It’ll be nine thousand one hundred and ninety-five yen. Can I get your name and card information, sir?”

“I’m paying cash.”

The man—the boy, really—looked regretful, and certainly a fair bit scared. “I’m sorry, sir, but we only take card as an insurance policy.”

“I’m not going to fuck up the room.”

“Of course not, sir! I wouldn’t even suggest-“

“Look, kid, I’m really trying to be nice but my patience only goes so far. Just do me a solid and give me the fucking room.”

The clerk’s eyes widened comically during Sukuna’s lapse in being cordial. He had to hand it to the kid though, he had balls, and he seemed to be the earnest, do-good type. Like Yuuji. That thought had him softening just a bit. His baby would be upset if he found that Sukuna hadn’t been nice. He sighed, “Listen, I have someone important to me in the car and he’s hurt. He needs a good rest to recover. I’m not trying to put you in a difficult spot, but I really need that room. I will make sure you’re paid more than your wage.”

Sukuna was glad to see that his face had regained a bit of color. He was used to pushing his weight around, and it worked like a charm in his circles, but doing that here to a kid that couldn’t be older than twenty, when Yuuji was only twenty-three, felt wrong. The about-face in his tone had been successful though, as the clerk looked determined all of a sudden, sighed, and said, “Yes, sir. I might get in trouble but I’ll do it for you. Please don’t trash the room or I really might lose my job. Please.”

“You won’t have any trouble from me, I assure you,” Sukuna said as he pulled out the cash from his wallet, as well as an extra one hundred and twenty-two thousand yen, before forking it over. “Thank you,” he read the boy’s name tag, “Sakamoto.” It felt unnatural to say, heavy and foreign in his mouth, but Yuuji.

Seeing the amount, Sakamoto exclaimed, waving it off, “Sir! I couldn’t take that much!”

“Take it, kid,” Sukuna said, shoving his hand forward.

“Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be offering,” he snapped, exasperated with the needless back and forth.

“Thank you so much, sir,” he said, accepting the money with both, grateful hands. His eyes watered and he sniffled before saying, “You have no idea how much this will help me.”

“I have an idea. Now, the key.”

“Of course!” Sakamoto jumped and regained his composure, determination coming back into view, then handed Sukuna the room key. “Room 28. Checkout is at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“I trust your discretion,” Sukuna said pointedly.

“Yes, sir! Leave it to me,” the young clerk said with all the seriousness and solemnity of a boy resigned to monkhood, his face decisive. Again, smart.

Sukuna nodded in acknowledgment, leaving through the door with a soft chime from the bell.

Yuuji was in the same position he left him in, still breathing softly. Sukuna nearly groaned in relief. During the entire conversation, his mind was nagging him for wasting so much time talking with the receptionist. The sight of Yuuji, even bloodied and bruised, alive in his passenger seat was a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

He nearly groaned again for another reason entirely as he put the car in drive. Just this short distance to the room. Park the car. Clean Yuuji up. One more drive ‘til we’re home. He rubbed a hand down his face. Sukuna was tired, the magnitude of emotion he’d been through in the past few hours had far surpassed his usual threshold and it had completely exhausted him, and still, he was nowhere near done with this night. All the strange surroundings made him feel like a caged tiger, always observing and looking over his shoulder, his head on a constant swivel. He just needed to get them home where he could take them into his room, shut the door, lock it, and let Uraume take care of things for a while.

He looked closely at the small room numbers as he slowly drove by. 22.. 25.. 27, 28. He pulled in the parking space right in front of the room, quicker transport was worth the risk of having too many see his plates. Inherent instinct and street smarts didn’t mean a complete lack of curiosity, after all. Thankfully, there were only a few other cars in the parking lot.

He worked fast. He went to the door to unlock it first and opened it completely. He worked his way through the dark and into the bathroom to turn the light on. It took it a second before it flickered to life, a loud, droning buzz accompanied it. Same as the outside lights, it soaked the room in an eerie, yellowed glow, throwing shadows longer than it should possibly be able.

Still forgoing the main light, he went back out to the car before quickly, but gently, unbuckling Yuuji and picking him up as he had put him in. He kicked the car door closed with his foot and clicked the lock button on his key. He strode intently through the door before also kicking it closed. He hefted Yuuji to the side to free one hand and locked all three locks; the door knob, deadbolt, and chain.

Then, he carefully laid Yuuji down on his side on the bed, vomiting was still a concern blaring across his mind’s eye. Thankfully, the floral textured comforter was a deep red with mustard yellow stripes. No worry for obvious dried blood transfer when the set went to the wash.

He made sure the curtains were closed completely and turned the tv on for background noise.

He went to the bathroom to draw the tub. Turning the water to warm-but-not-too-hot, he kept a hand in the water as he tested the for just the right temperature, and put the plug in before readying a rag and soap on the side of the tub.

Leaving the water running, he went back and turned his brother on his back. Unzipping his jacket from Yuuji, he spread it out like a towel underneath him. He slipped both socks off, tender in every movement.

Sukuna took a breath before moving to Yuuji’s underwear. He only wanted him bathed and comfortable for the journey home. At the moment, it still felt like an eternity away. Much like before, his desire for Yuuji held no feature right now. It felt familiar in a strictly familial way, taking him back to a time before he was ever aware of feeling this way for his little brother. When he took care of him by cooking him meals, reading him stories, helping with homework, playing games, and this, giving him a bath. It was when their grandfather had first gotten sick with his first round of cancer, Sukuna had only been thirteen then to Choso’s ten and Yuuji’s six. Just after the cusp of too old to be babied, now old enough to babysit. The prime time to be a latchkey kid.

When the moment of reflection was over, he quite literally peeled off Yuuji’s boxers, the dried blood acting as an adhesive, and carried him to the bath like precious cargo.

He slowly lowered him in, the water was pleasantly warm, and cut the tap off. Before anything else, he wet the rag and gently wiped the blood from Yuuji’s face. He was as careful as he could be, but it had crusted on well and everywhere he scrubbed left a bloom of red blood flow beneath the skin. There was no shampoo or conditioner, so he lathered up the bar of soap and washed his hair.

It hadn’t been long before the water had rehydrated the blood smeared on Yuuji’s submerged skin and it had quickly dirtied the water.

He worked still as he let out the water to soon refill. He wiped down his neck, wincing in sympathy, and over his shoulders, then further down his arm, until Yuuji was a fresh, baby pink. The blood had almost formed a perfect gradient, he observed, like some macabre painting. He could appreciate the power and force Yuuji must have exhibited to kill Mahito in such a way, even though he wished his brother wouldn’t have had to at all.

When he got to Yuuji’s hands, he spent more time there than he had anywhere else. It was in every crevice and it was a marvel that it hadn’t stained the skin. He cleaned under Yuuji’s fingernails until they were white like tiny crescent moons.

By this time, the water had finished going out, a stream of pinkish brown trickling down the drain. So he first turned the water on to fill, rinsing the rag thoroughly in the process, then he put the stopper back in.

He relathered the cloth and made his way over Yuuji’s collarbones and down his chest. His ribs and abdomen, taking special care around the bruising. His hips and only a cursory pass to his front before moving on down his leg. He scrubbed Yuuji’s knee and shin a bit harder than the rest, the blood had accumulated here—like his hands—where he must have been kneeling over Mahito, and then kneaded over the calf, giving it a firm massage. He gently lifted Yuuji’s leg to get his foot and then repeated the process on the other leg as well.

He turned the water off. And now that his brother’s front was clean, Sukuna pulled Yuuji’s head onto his shoulder to clean his back, shallow breaths puffing softly on his ear.

He sighed in relief now that the biggest job was done. Sukuna cupped the fresh water in his hand to rinse the soap off and then let it drain again.

Leaving Yuuji in the bathtub, he stepped away for just a second to grab the towel, and then dried his hair and body where he could reach.

Wrapping the towel around him, he went back to the room and laid him down on the bed before he went back into the bathroom to wash the tub clean of any residue.

He was halfway finished when he heard a hoarse whisper that shot straight up his spine, electrifying him. “Suku-nii..?”

— — —

His head was pounding and his tongue was like heavy lead, swollen and dry in his mouth, a distinctly bitter and medicinal taste coating it. His throat was screaming at him and his attempt to swallow felt like an egg was lodged painfully.

He welcomed the comfort of the dark behind his closed, aching eyes, but a quiet, droning murmuring drew him closer to the surface.

He cracked open his heavy, crusted eyes and immediately shut them again from the burning of the bright light of a TV, taking a second before he went for another attempt.

Squinting to ward off the sting, he opened his eyes again to take in his surroundings.

The bed he was on was soft and lumpy, yet the top cover was rough against what he realized was his bare legs. The nightstand had on top of it an outdated landline and phonebook. In the corner of the ceiling above it, there was a crack with black mold growing out of it. Chancing the TV again, he found that it was one of the old box ones, squiggly lines ran across the screen horizontally where it seemed like the pixels wouldn’t pick up correctly. An infomercial about some random, unnecessary kitchen gadget was playing, showing highly unlikely situations of blunders in the kitchen without having the specific tool, repeating the number to call to get your thirty-five percent off, once-in-a-lifetime deal. Due to that, he knew it must be late in the night. These would only ever play in the early hours of the morning, only ever to be seen by disoriented, groggy eyes from either staying up too late or waking up to them just like this.

What he didn’t find, however, was his brother. His throat protested but he forced a crackling, “Suku-nii..?”

He heard a wet plopping sound and quick steps as Sukuna came into view, the light of what must be the bathroom bathing him in a halo.

“Hey, brat. You’re up already? How are you feeling?”

He tried to shrug but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. So instead, he said, “It’s brat again?” It came out as a croak.

He vaguely remembered his brother’s soft voice as he complimented him with pride, as he called him baby and other endearing terms of the like. Repeated in a nearly reverent tone in almost every sentence, yet never seeming too much. He didn’t truly know what it meant to have Sukuna call him that, only that it was the most loving and attentive he had ever heard him sound. And that he wanted more of it, especially when he was feeling so awful. And maybe even when he wasn’t feeling so awful anymore. It was leagues better than feeling like a nuisance.

His question brought about something else he’d never seen: a blushing Sukuna. Though, it was barely visible through the dim lighting.

To his big brother’s credit, he recovered smoothly, and avoided the question entirely with something relevant. He had always been skilled in steering the conversation a certain way with words seemingly important to an uncritical ear. He cast a chastising look and replied, “Cheeky. Brats wake up when they’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“We’re in a motel..?”

“Yeah, I had to give you a bath. I wasn’t going to drive you all the way home covered in that fucker’s blood.”

And before he could even ask the question, Sukuna said, “It’s taken care of.”

“Thank you,” he whispered roughly, choked with emotion.

Sukuna scoffed and looked over to the TV with faux interest—like he’d ever be interested in late night infomercials—while crossing his arms, jaw ticking away. “I didn’t do enough for your gratitude.”

“You were there when I called.”

“Mm,” he changed the subject, “Well, I have to finish cleaning the tub and then we can go home. Go back to sleep, brat. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

And so suddenly, he was aware of how heavy his eyes had felt the entire time, and welcomed the dark of sleep once more. He mumbled out a last, “I love you.”

He didn’t hear if Sukuna said it back.

•••

“I love you.”

His heart caught in his chest.

Fuck.

“I love you too, Yuu,” he said softly and gently ran a hand through his soft, downy hair.

The brat never failed to surprise him. That question was not what he thought would be the first words out of Yuuji’s mouth. And yet, it made entirely too much sense, due to the way he’s treated him. It must have thrown him to suddenly have a brother who dismisses him turn around and actually care.

Choso would have been better at this particular thing, he hated to admit.

He steeled himself, he still had work to do. Nearly done, then home.

He straightened and went back into the bathroom to finish the bottom of the tub. When he was done scrubbing, he turned on the shower head to rinse the rag and bloody suds out. Grabbing the soap and cloth, he took them with him.

Back at Yuuji’s side, he unwrapped him from the towel and stripped out of his own shirt to replace it.

Leaving Yuuji where he laid, he went back out to the car to start it and turn on the heat—a mirror of what he’d already done once tonight. This time, at least his baby didn’t look like he was straight out of a horror film.

He went to the passenger side, opened the glove box to grab a few baby wipes he kept in the car in the event of spills, and wiped down the leather for any remnant of blood. He continued this until the wipes came back clean.

Balling up the dirty ones in hand, he put the package back in the glove box, and went back inside the room.

He gathered all the evidence and placed them in the center of his still spread out jacket—wipes, socks, underwear, rag, soap, and towel—and rolled it all up within it, tying off the sleeves to keep the bundle contained.

He waited a minute longer, in order for the heat to circulate, to go back to open the passenger door again for easy transport. He threw the jacket full of contents into the backseat, he would dispose of it later.

Carrying Yuuji for the second to last time, he placed him in the pre-warmed vehicle. Then, he went back, surveyed the room for anything he possibly missed, and locked the door. Bottom and top.

As he drove past the front office, he deposited the key in the drop box, and pulled out of the dim parking lot.

Finally, finally, he could take Yuuji home.

This time, the drive took longer than even the estimated time. He drove slowly, methodical, in order to keep Yuuji from being jostled. Fortunately, there was no traffic at this time of night.

It was a quarter past four in the morning by the time they got home, and he was aching to just get inside, get Yuuji laid down, and join him. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep in a separate room tonight. He’d likely be in to check on him every five minutes if he did so anyway.

“Uraume!”

“Welcome home, master,” they responded promptly, greeting him at the door. Their eyes widened when they took in the state of the both of them: Sukuna shirtless with Yuuji swimming in it and wearing nothing else, covered in fingerprint shaped bruises, his throat a swathe of blues and purples. They asked with genuine concern, “Is he alright, master?”

“He will be.” He dearly hoped so.

A voice came from the living room, “Are they back~?”

Kenjaku.

“What the fuck is he still doing here?”

“I’m sorry, master. He insisted on waiting for your return.”

“How about you do your fucking job and throw him out?” Sukuna snapped, his face a scowl.

Uraume flinched back as though they had been slapped. It was rare that they were under the blaze of Sukuna’s ire, frying like an ant beneath a magnifying glass.

“I thought that you were smarter than that. You clearly saw I wanted Kenjaku gone. How long has that nosy fuck been here? Over seven hours now? I didn’t know you were so interested in fucking slumber parties, Uraume.”

“Forgive me, I’ll get rid of him right n-“

“Save it. Keep him busy in there while I go lay Yuuji down. I don’t want him to see him, especially not like this.”

Uraume merely bowed in acknowledgment.

“Still wise enough to know when to hold your tongue, it seems,” he dismissed coldly as he traveled in the direction of his room.

The part of him that was dissatisfied—but blessedly quiet—had already come roaring back to life with a vengeance, spoiling for a fight to sate it, one that could only end in death. He hadn’t forgotten Kenjaku’s disgusting, bold-faced arrogance from earlier, and if that mangy cur had to pay for the sins of two tonight, so be it.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette. Or a blunt. Whichever came first.

Thankfully, the door to his room was open, one less annoyance.

When he entered, he placed Yuuji at the foot of his bed to pull back the thick, black covers, and then deposited him in them.

Drawing them up to Yuuji’s chin and tucking him in, he dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead, and whispered an achingly soft, “I’ll be right back, baby.”

Sukuna straightened to his full, imposing height and went to his closet to grab an extra shirt. This time, he wanted nothing more than to climb in the bed with Yuuji, to pull him in close and hold him there. But yet again, he still had work to do. Work that wouldn’t have to be done if it weren’t for Kenjaku, he thought with a low growl.

Grabbing the knife he kept in his nightstand instead of the gun, he went to put Kenjaku down.

As he neared the living room, the annoying sound of his incessant chatter to Uraume greeted him.

Sukuna stood completely still in the entryway, pinning Kenjaku under a cold glare, the knife glinting in hand from the cool light of moon. “You test me.”

The chatter fell away and Kenjaku grinned. “Of course not! How is the boy?” He asked with slimy, faux concern.

“Don’t.”

“Come now, Sukuna. I only wanted to know if Yuuji-“

Quicker than any of them could say Eureka! , Sukuna had crossed the room and snatched Kenjaku’s head back by his hair, the sharp tip of the blade pricking the soft flesh under his chin.

To the wayside, Uraume squirmed in their chair from excitement. With no one to cross him recently, it had been a while since they had a front row seat to the action.

“You dare say his name, vermin?”

His eyes were wide, fear finally coloring them. Sukuna could have purred in delight at the rectification. “No!”

“No?” He pressed the knife a little deeper.

Kenjaku grasped at his wrist with both hands. “No!”

Deeper, blood bubbled out of the wound.

“I mean yes! Yes I did. Forgive me, I forgot my place.”

“Hmm..” Sukuna cocked his head to the side, maroon eyes keen and sharp like a bird of prey. “Why should I?”

Kenjaku whimpered. “Forgive me?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Beg for your life, swine.”

It was immediate, a weakling in the face of power.

“Please! Please! Please, forgive me. It won’t happen again, I swear it.”

Deeper. Kenjaku sputtered.

“Not good enough.”

“Please!” He yelled. “Please, listen. Don’t be hasty. You need me!”

“Need you?”

“Yes! You need me! Who else will give you connection to the Kamos?”

Sukuna barked a laugh. “I already have that. Try harder.”

“Who else will keep your supply running smoothly?!” Sweet, sweet desperation.

“Uraume.”

“I- I-“

Sukuna smirked, amused. “You, you.” Then, he huffed a theatrically put upon sigh. “But, I suppose you’re right. It’d be a headache.”

“I am..? Yes! Yes, I am. It would be! So please, if you could kindly let go, Sukuna-sama,” Kenjaku said with a nervous chuckle.

Sukuna smiled, something akin to sweetly, and it made Kenjaku freeze in alarm.

“Yes, it’d be a headache to have you around.”

“Wait! What do you-“

He thrusted the knife upward, the blade gliding through fat and muscle cleanly, and sliced around the barrier of Kenjaku’s jaw while he convulsed. It was beautifully smooth, like a hot iron through butter.

The blood rushed forth, hot and slick over his hand. When he withdrew the knife, Kenjaku gaped like a fish, chin flapping open like an extra mouth, his tongue falling through the hole.

Sukuna opened his fist to let go of his hair and Kenjaku fell to his knees, gurgling wetly. His hand flew up to his throat, pressing the flayed skin and tongue back up into its rightful place, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Sukuna looked down on him in disinterest. “Move your hand.”

Kenjaku’s eyes flew to his face, full of terror and disbelief, but eventually, he did so. The fear of what Sukuna might do if he didn’t listen must have outweighed the desire to keep it there.

The wound fell back open slowly, then quickly all at once, like it wanted to hang on but couldn’t, gravity working thousands of times faster than the body could possibly repair itself.

Sukuna knelt down, still towering a head above Kenjaku, and grabbed the flap in a punishing grip, pulling down on it mercilessly. Kenjaku released pained groan deep in his throat, following the motion downward to grant any inch of reprieve. When he followed, Sukuna wordlessly pulled even more harshly until he finally got the message to still himself and take it. He could feel the slippery, firm muscle of Kenjaku’s tongue twitching and squirming incessantly in his grasp, like a slug that had just been salted.

“Do you deserve mercy?”

Through the haze of pain, Kenjaku caught on to his words, his face indecisive.

Sukuna was certain that he was trying to find the ‘correct’ answer. Not that there was one. If he said yes, he’d gouge his eyes out for the audacity.

He infinitesimally shook his head ‘no’, Sukuna’s hold on him not allowing any further movement.

“Then die like this quietly.” Letting go and standing, he threw the knife to the coffee table, the impact clattering loudly, and looked to Uraume who had been enthralled. “When he’s finished, clean this mess up, and find someone suitable to replace him. The keys to Yuuji’s car are on my dash, I’ll send you the address. Go and pick it up and put it the garage. Do not fail me again.”

“Yes, master.”

Leaving the scene behind, he went to take a quick shower, footprints of blood trailed behind him on the dark, wooden floor. He couldn’t return to Yuuji like this.

Dealing with Kenjaku had been too quick. His punishment was mild compared to what he deserved, what Sukuna wished he had time to do, like gutting him groin to chin. Unfortunately, he just didn’t, nor did he have the energy reserves for anything more at the moment. At least, even now, all the way down the hall, he could hear the wheezing gurgle of Kenjaku’s slow demise and it wouldn’t stain his furniture like it would have the other way. His beast approved, reveling in it, satisfied and lazily curled up like a sleeping dragon, waiting for its chance to emerge once more.

When he returned from his shower, the clock on his nightstand read 5:36. He sighed, dropped the towel that had been around his waist to the floor, threw on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and climbed slowly into bed. The exhaustion was so bone-deep at this point, his joints ached.

He sank into the mattress with a groan, mindfully loosening every muscle down to his fingertips, and turned his head to look over at his sleeping angel. Even marred, he looked so peaceful, with his soft sakura hair falling on his forehead.

It was surreal, bizarre, having him here, in his bed, after so long longing for it. Even under the circumstances, it was nearly euphoric. He was so close after being so far, burning up with it after a long, harsh, self-imposed nuclear winter.

He reached a hand out to run a feather-light finger over Yuuji’s cheek.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself for this. Didn’t know if he wanted Yuuji to, either.

But right now, he didn’t deny himself the comfort of his baby any longer.

With strong arms, he pulled Yuuji across the bed, curled around him—a barrier to the outside world, and gave himself up to much needed sleep.

As always, he dreamt of Yuuji.

•••

When he awoke, it was much like the time in the motel. Pain was a barraging thing, a constant companion, and he hurt like he had gotten pummeled by a battering ram. Repeatedly.

Only this time, he was far too warm, heat searing his back, and there was a heavy weight around his middle. He winced from the discomfort of it, it was pressing down on where Mahito had kicked him.

The thought of Mahito sent him into a cold sweat and all of a sudden, the weight was far too confining.

Trapped.

He shot up, throwing off what he now knew to be an arm. Sharp agony pierced him, a thousand knives all over; a repayment from his abused body for the sudden movement. He whimpered pathetically.

“Yuuji?”

The sleepy, familiar voice calmed him, drawing him away from the quickly developing panic.

He turned to it and tried to reply with a ‘Sukuna?’, but nothing but a breathy garble came out.

“Don’t try to talk, it’ll take a while. Here, take this.” Sukuna sat up and leaned over to retrieve a glass of water, condensation beading around it, and a pill from the side table. “It’ll hurt to swallow, but you’re strong. I know you can push through it.”

Yuuji eyed it skeptically. Logically, he knew his brother wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, especially after his effort to help him, but last night was still fresh at the forefront of his mind.

Sukuna, save for a slightly stunned expression, didn’t seem to mind. “It’s only a strong ibuprofen and it’ll help with the inflammation.”

Yuuji took it gratefully with a nod of his head. He squinted and raised his eyebrows to combat the sudden throb behind his eyes and scalp at the movement.

“You’re welcome, brat. And drink it all, you’re dehydrated and it’s making the headache worse.”

The pill did hurt, it scratched and fought the whole way down.

So did the water, for that matter. But the coolness of it was soothing to both his throat and tongue.

Now that he wasn’t so parched, he tried again, “Thank you.”

It was nearly inaudible and still an entirely breathy whisper, but at least it was comprehensible.

“I just told you-“ Sukuna sighed and pinched between his eyes with a frown. “You’re welcome, brat. Are you hungry?”

Yuuji took a second to think about it. He was hungry, the fight had squeezed every last drop out of him. But the pill was already borderline torture and it was smaller than any bite of food. “No.”

Sukuna leveled him a look. That look he had always gotten when he knew Yuuji was lying. “You think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?”

Instead of replying, battered pride preventing him from doing so, Yuuji slowly inched his way over to the side of the bed to put his feet down. When he stood, however, his head pulsed painfully and his vision swam and darkened. He plopped back down on the bed, wincing.

“Carrying it is then, huh?”

Yuuji closed his eyes to wait, listening to the rustling of his brother climbing out off bed, his feet padding on the floor until they stopped in front of him. He croaked out, “Time?”

“Hmm.. it’s two-thirty. I got up a while ago. C’mon, up we go.”

Sukuna shifted between his knees. Yuuji lifted his tender arms to wrap around his brother’s neck as he picked him up gently. He ignored the heat rising on his cheeks and the tips of his ears at the feeling of those large hands on his ass. At the feeling of what he realized was his bare center pressed against Sukuna’s rock hard abs.

It didn’t help that Sukuna smelled good. Like spicy, sweet incense and pine resin.

“Choso?”

“Haven’t told him,” Sukuna rumbled, the sound was deeper where Yuuji had his head laid, ear pressed to his brother’s shoulder. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“Then it won’t be me to tell him. He’s going to want to know why you won’t see him while you’re healing up though.”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, Yuuji. Not yet.”

He knew it would hurt in more ways than one, but he had to ask anyway. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Sukuna’s steps faltered and his grip tightened before he continued down the hall like nothing happened. “What kind of question is that? My baby brother almost died, you think I’m going to be an asshole?”

“Dunno,” he said as they reached the kitchen.

Sukuna sat him down at the island that overlooked it in all its modern glory and stared him in the eyes. Uncomfortable from the quiet intensity, he looked around to inspect the rest of the kitchen. He’d never been here before. The cabinets and drawers were sleek and darkly stained, almost black, with no knobs; the kind you had to push to open, the countertops were black, shiny marble, enough to see reflection in, and all appliances he could see were stainless steel without a smudge on them, shining brightly in the low lighting.

“Is that what you think of me?”

The hurt in his brother’s tone took him aback and gave him pause.

“..Dunno.”

And he really didn’t.

Sukuna had always been aloof as long as he could remember, save for the few years after their grandpa got sick. At the tender age of twelve, he remembers the low but constant strain for approval from his brother. He tried with good grades, as good as he could get them, though he was never particularly academically inclined. He tried with sports and clubs, as many as he had the time for, and excelled in them. And still, he was always being pushed aside. The pats on the head lessened significantly and the indulgent smiles had vanished all together. This continued to grow between them, Sukuna always just out of reach, until Choso was old enough at seventeen to care for them both, without financial burden of course. Sukuna had still taken care of that. But by that time, Wasuke had died a few months before and Sukuna had already had his own apartment. The visits were few and far between. He’d always had his brother’s number but he had assumed that it was more out of formality than anything. He was sure this was true because besides the yearly messages of happy holidays and birthdays, he never responded to any of Yuuji’s texts or calls. When they would eventually see each other, it was always through the urging facilitating of Choso. At those times, they would awkwardly side hug and make meaningless small talk, but Choso would always seem pleased, a small smile on his face when he looked between them. He knew of Yuuji’s need for Sukuna’s companionship. It was finally one day, on one of these visits, that Yuuji complained about Sukuna’s radio silence, and though he had rolled his eyes and grumbled about it at the time, he finally agreed to answer Yuuji’s calls. Not that there were many. Years of indifference had trained him well, and he was far too scared that Sukuna would start ignoring him again if he started blowing up his phone. It was a feat he had mastered, for he really wanted to call him every night, just to hear that gruff brat through the receiver.

The silence had lengthened into acute tension after his answer. When he looked back up, Sukuna was still staring at him, but his face was twisted into a pinched grimace. Another visage of his brother he had never seen before.

“Well,” Sukuna said finally, expression smoothing out into cool indifference, “You’re wrong.”

It smarted, but it was familiar nonetheless. He hadn’t realized how expressive his brother had been until he was confronted with the face that haunted him all these years.

Apparently, with that, Sukuna had decided the moment was over, because instead of waiting for a reply, he ventured deeper into the kitchen and started pulling various fruits out of the large fridge.

Which was fine. Yuuji didn’t know what to say to that anyway.

He watched as Sukuna washed some of the fruits—strawberries and blueberries—and set them down before grabbing a cutting board, a bowl, and a particularly sharp looking Damascus Santoku knife.

He cut the strawberries in half, put them in the bowl with the blueberries to the side, and started in on a large pineapple with deft hands, slicing through the tough skin with ease.

Those hands looked too dangerous not to be practiced in wielding a knife.

But it was all so.. domestic. It warmed him from the inside out. Heart fluttering in his chest like a newly emerged butterfly. It’d been so long since he last saw Sukuna preparing anything. Then, it was a teenager, still strong, but thinner, lean in adolescence. Now, it was a different sight all together. The muscle rippled and flexed with every movement underneath a tight, black tee, stretched and formed across broad shoulders. Loose sleep pants draped over long, long, legs he knew to be just as built and sturdy as the rest of his brother. He was settled in his weight as a man, and damn if he didn’t look good in it.

After the long stretch of silence, only the sound of the smooth shink, shink, shink and the chop of the blade hitting the wooden board, Sukuna broke it by saying something Yuuji never imagined would come out of his mouth.

His back was still turned to him, and he wished he could see his face as he said it.

“You’re important to me, Yuuji. The most important thing in my life.. And this? This has changed everything. I won’t let you down again.”

His heart stuttered. So simple, and yet it was everything Yuuji had ever wanted to hear from his big brother. At once, he was thankful that Sukuna wasn’t facing him so that he couldn’t see Yuuji’s own. He could physically feel how red he must be, not to mention the sudden tears that had sprung to his eyes. It didn’t make up for the years of neglect by any means, but he couldn’t deny that those few words healed some broken part of him he never even realized was there. Well, maybe he realized, but it was something he dutifully ignored.

“Thank you,” he replied after some time. Sukuna had already moved on to a beautifully ripe mango, the rest of the fruit sitting prettily in the bowl.

The cutting paused mid-slice before continuing. “Don’t thank me, Yuuji.”

He may regret it, Sukuna may not even answer, but, “Why?”

“Because, I’m your aniki. It’s my place to protect you. And let’s be honest, it seems I’ve done an abysmal job,” Sukuna replied as he washed his hands to remove the sticky residue.

“I had Choso.”

He watched as his brother stiffened, a wall of steel, pulled the blender closer to him on the counter, and finally turned to him.

Yuuji had only ever seen Sukuna in a stoic, uninterested mood for years now. So to see his jaw set, eyes licking with fire, all set in a firm frown, made him nervous. And not the good kind.

So quietly, calmly, on the verge on monotonous that hid what his face could not, he said, “Choso isn’t here, is he? I am. I’m the one that found you beaten and covered in blood. I’m the one that washed you off. That drove for five hours and brought you home. And I’m the one that burned that fucking house to the ground. I don’t want to hear about Choso, he’ll get his. We’ve both failed you.”

“Don’t be mad at Cho-nii.”

“Why? I left you in his care and I trusted he’d protect you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he growled. He turned back and dumped the fruit in the blender, something close to violently, and pulled out a large container of protein powder, slamming the cabinet shut like extra punctuation.

“I-“

“You call that ‘taking care of yourself’? In a voice that sounds like that? I call bullshit,” Sukuna said again, grabbing milk out of the fridge. “Do you know what that did to me? What it’s doing to me? Watching you sit in that chair, looking like that?”

Yuuji didn’t, couldn’t, but he’d figure Sukuna would tell him anyway.

As he dumped two heaping scoops of the powder in the blender, followed quickly by the milk, that soft voice was back. And yet, it was entirely different this time, a smooth caress. “I’d burn the whole world down for you, Yuuji, and not give a damn. I’d kill forever, endlessly. As long as I had you. And last night? I was far too close to losing you. If I came in that house and you were dead..? If you had been killed by Mahito, and you weren’t able to call anyone, me or Choso, and we had to search for you, only to find your body..?”

He cut on the blender, jarring in the juxtaposition.

Yuuji had no idea where to even start with that. It had rocked him to the core, along with every belief he ever held about his eldest brother. Something dangerously close to the three little words he longed to hear, but not quite there. Only, it might’ve been much more so. These words from an animal of a man, a regal tiger that lazed in dappled light, one that said no word in vain, all but vowing heinous violence at the harm of something important to it? What else could it be?

“Bathroom?” He asked simply after the blender fell into silence. He just needed a minute after the proverbial rug had been ripped out from under him and proceeded to beat him midair.

But when Sukuna faced him this final time, alarm ran through him like water and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Here there be monsters,  his brain supplied quietly, as if it, too, were scared of making sudden moves.

Sukuna moved towards him, all but stalking, and his heart thumped in time with every step.

He lifted his arms slowly, and his brother picked him up gently, careful around the bruising, a mirror to their earlier position, and carried him down the hall to the bathroom. A large hand cupped the back of his head where it was once again laid on his shoulder, soft and loving like a child being carried off to bed.

He was set on his feet in front of a closed door.

“You need help or do you think you’re steady enough not to brain yourself on the counter?”

“I got it,” Yuuji replied quietly, looking at their feet.

“Call me when you’re done, I’ll be here,” Sukuna said as he leaned back against the far wall, just across the way. He must’ve been too nervous to stray too far.

Yuuji nodded, went in the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

He took a breath before he turned on the light. This would be his first time seeing himself since the assault, and he had a feeling he’d needed to steel himself.

He groped at the wall for the light switch, and it came on with a click.

He sucked in a breath at the sight. He looked like he had gotten ran over by an eighteen-wheeler.

He had bruising at his hairline and he prodded his scalp tenderly, hissing at the sharp ache. As he thought, the throw had separated it from his skull. He was sure if he shaved his head, it would reveal more. Much more.

His eyes were bright red and what he thought must be blood pooled around the waterline, or at least looked to be. It wasn’t clear from all the hemorrhaging above it. Around them was deep purple, his eye bags gaunt looking from the stress of it.

A handprint spanned his jaw from where Mahito held him.

His entire neck, chin to collarbone, was also heavily bruised. A mottled collar of dark blue, leeching into the skin around it. He touched it with light fingertips and winced. Even that slight pressure hurt.

Bands encircled his wrists like manacles, which wouldn’t be far fetched because Mahito’s grip had certainly felt like it.

He immediately understood Sukuna’s anger. If this had happened to either of his brothers, he didn’t know what he’d do, nor the degree of what he was capable of. He almost lost his life for a friend, if it had happened to family?

He averted his eyes. Better not to stare.

He had used the bathroom as an excuse for a breather, the only place he was confident Sukuna wouldn’t push to follow him. But now that he was here, he was acutely aware of the fullness of his bladder.

He hobbled over to the toilet, legs throbbing all the way, and held up his brother’s shirt to his belly to relieve himself.

Shockingly, or maybe not so shockingly after all, he passed blood. His urine was a concerning tint of red. Should he tell Sukuna?

Probably so, if Sukuna was in charge of his care by default.

“Suku-nii?” He whined, a tinge of fear in it.

It was merely a second before his brother flew into the bathroom like a bull, door smacking loudly against the wall. “What is it? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Like he couldn’t decide which applied or which was worse.

Yuuji’s chin wobbled. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you about to cry?

He could only weakly point to the toilet.

Sukuna came closer and peered into it. When he saw what was there, his jaw clenched, face a raging storm. “It’s okay, Yuuji,” he said, tender, and gently took his face in hand. “It’s okay,” he said again, “It’s from where he got your kidney. We’ll watch it and if you pass the same amount of blood again, or more, we’ll get a doctor here, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuji whispered.

“Alright. Wash your hands. Uraume got an extra toothbrush for you. Would you like me to do it?”

Fuck , he felt like a baby, but damn, Sukuna was so comforting right now, he didn’t want to pass it up. Not to mention, his arms already protested at even the thought of the vigorous, circling motion.

He nodded.

“Okay, Yuuji.” He stepped out of the way to let Yuuji use the sink, opened a drawer to the side, grabbed the packaged toothbrush, and ripped it open, before putting on toothpaste and wetting it. “Let’s go sit down, yeah? Hold this for me, sweetheart.”

And fuck, there it was again. Yuuji thought he must have been dreaming when he had woken up in the motel. Sukuna couldn’t have called him anything like that. But here he was, and Yuuji felt it down to the tips of his toes. He looked down at them to hide his blush, holding out a hand to receive the toothbrush.

“Arms up, baby, you know the drill,” Sukuna said when the toothbrush met his hand.

Fuck . He lifted his arms.

Sukuna took him back into the kitchen, sat him down in the same chair, and took back the brush. “Eeee,” he said, pearly white teeth bared, telling Yuuji to show his like he was growling.

If it didn’t hurt so bad, Yuuji would have laughed at the picture. He wished he had a camera.

It went that way, Sukuna making various vowel sounds like ee, ah, eh. Just like he did when Yuuji was a child.

What was not like when he was a child, was the strange look Sukuna got in his eyes when Yuuji stuck out his tongue for his brother to brush.

Sukuna cleared his throat and coughed. “All done, Yuu. I’ll be right back,” he said as he headed back to the bathroom to rinse the toothbrush and put it away.

When he returned, he moved back towards the blender to pour the smoothie into a large cup. “I doubt it’ll fill you up all the way, but it’ll get something in your stomach. We’ll try actual food later today once the medicine has had time to work.”

He opened a drawer, paused, and pulled out a bright pink straw. It had a surprisingly cute, cartoonish, calico cat head wrapped around it, winking with its feline mouth quirked in a smile. He cleared his throat again and murmured, “Uraume got this for you, too.”

Seeing the reddened tips of his brother’s ears, he knew it was a lie. I didn’t know Sukuna liked cute things.

Then, he opened the freezer and grabbed a long, flexible ice pack. “For your neck.”

“Thank you, Kuna.” Then suddenly, he remembered the most important part. He felt so shitty for forgetting in the first place. “Junpei? Wasn’t there.”

“Your friend is fine. I got Uraume to check on him, no actual contact, I promise. He was at home, safe and sound. Mahito must have stolen his phone or something and then lured you in.”

Yuuji breathed a sigh of relief. And he didn’t dare question how Sukuna knew where Junpei lived. “Thank you.”

“Mm. You want to go in the living room and watch some TV? I have Netflix.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Okay, let’s go. I’ll come back for the smoothie.”

After he was situated on the couch, Sukuna brought him the smoothie, and said, “What do you want to watch?”

“Human Earthworm.”

“Which one?”

“2.”

“Ha! I knew it,” Sukuna exclaimed with a laugh.

As they watched the movie, neither of them said anything more about the moment Sukuna’s mask slipped in the kitchen.

Maybe they both needed the break.

— — —

“..You’re really going to leave?”

“..Yeah.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“You love Yuuji, don’t you?”

“You know I do.”

“Then why?”

“I’m not a pervert and I’m not a pedophile,” he said, unnecessarily—but unsurprisingly—defensive, a bite in his tone.

“I didn’t say you were, Sukuna,” Choso admonished from where he sat at the end of his twin-sized bed in their shared room.

“Right.”

“He needs you.. You’ve been hurting him for a long time.”

“He doesn’t need me.” And Choso didn’t have to tell him the rest. He knew more than anyone what his avoidance had done to Yuuji. How it had changed him.

“He does and you know it,” Choso snapped, angry now on Yuuji’s behalf.

“He’ll have you.”

“I’m not you.”

“All the better.”

A sigh. “…It’s okay, you know?”

Sukuna scoffed. “You don’t think I’m strange?”

“No, you are. And it is. But Yuuji..,” he paused, searching for the right words. “He’s lovable. He’s warm like the sun, all that’s good in the world. I understand it, even if I don’t feel the same.”

“You’ll take care of him, yeah? If something happens to him, Choso... If something happens-“

“I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

“You better. I’m trusting you, and you know I don’t give it lightly.”

“I got it, don’t worry.”

“Good.” He would worry, though. No one, not even himself, could do anything about that.

“Are you going to say goodbye?” Choso asked, eyeing his suitcases.

“I don’t know.. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go if I do.”

“Then don’t go.”

“You know I have to,” Sukuna sighed.

“You don’t, but you do what you have to do,” Choso said, resigned to the fact.

“Yeah.”

“…I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’ll break him if you don’t say bye. You love him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then say goodbye. Make sure you visit. Or at least call, even if it’s not much.”

“I will.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I know.”

“Good. I know I can’t whoop your ass, but I’ll try,” Choso grinned.

Sukuna huffed a low laugh, “Good luck with that.. Take care of him, please.” And God, he’d beg.

“I know, I know!” Choso flapped a hand, waving off his concern. “I’ll watch him like a hawk and report his every move.”

“Maybe not that far. That sounds more like torture than anything.”

“Good, maybe then you’ll come back home to keep an eye on him yourself.”

“Maybe.” Though they both knew he wouldn’t.

“Suku-niiiii! I’m home!”

That sweet voice made him ache, like a throbbing tooth after too much sugar.

“I guess I’m chopped liver,” Choso grumbled, shooting Sukuna a look that all but said ‘ I told you so ’ .

Sukuna ignored it in favor of greeting Yuuji for the last time in this chapter of his life. He pulled his suitcases behind him as he made his way to the living room. “Hey, brat.”

And he just looked so pretty. Wearing his uniform,  skewed to the side on one shoulder where his backpack hung, hair windswept, and forehead slightly sweaty, like he had run all the way home to him. He probably had.

“You won’t believe it! Today Nobara and Megumi- ..Whats that?” He was obviously looking at the bags.

“I got a place.”

“What?”

“I signed the lease a while ago. I’m moving in there today.” The look on Yuuji’s face shattered his cold, dead heart.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“No!”

“Brat-“

Yuuji’s weight collided into his middle, knocking the breath out of him with an oomph , and clutched at his shirt. “Don’t go! I’ll be good! I promise, I’ll be good. You know I will be! Don’t leave me like grandpa!”

Fuck.

Sukuna met Choso’s eyes above their little brother. If looks could kill.

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Yuuji cried.

“I have to go.”

“No!”

“Don’t worry, otouto,” Choso stepped in, pulling him away. Not without a fight, sharp little fingers dug into his sides painfully, scraping as they were forcefully removed. “We’ll have lots of fun. And Sukuna will visit, won’t he?” He leveled him a glare.

“I will.”

“You will?” Yuuji sniffled.

“I will.”

Yuuji swiped across his eyes and nodded once. He tried to give a brave face, he had complained before that he was ‘thirteen and a quarter’ and ‘Megumi didn’t cry like this’—fuck Megumi, if Sukuna had any say—, but both brothers could tell he was close to failing.

“I have to go, brat. Uraume is waiting for me.”

“Okay, Suku-nii. I love you,” he said, his shoulders still under Choso’s hands.

And again, fuck.

“Bye, brat. Bye, Choso.”

“Bye, Sukuna,” Choso said solemnly, he was hurting for the both of them.

“Goodbye. I love you.”

“Bye,” Sukuna said again. His throat worked to say it back, but he knew he couldn’t. Not when Yuuji didn’t know what he meant. Not when it felt like saying those very words would rob Yuuji of all his sweet, bright innocence. His fingers twitched on the handles of his belongings, he wanted to pull Yuuji to him and never let go.

Instead, he turned and left, dragging his things behind him.

On ground level, Uraume waited outside the car. “Sukuna-sama,” they greeted quietly. They knew he was not in the mood to talk.

Grabbing one suitcase, they helped Sukuna place them both in the trunk.

In the car, with Uraume up front, looking at him in the rear view mirror, they opened their mouth to say something, paused, closed it, and then finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Are you sure-“

“Drive, Uraume.” Because damn, if another person asked him, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t cave and run right back up to Yuuji to kiss his sweet little cheeks. To dry his tears that must have fallen right as he walked out the door, dry the ones that must be falling right now, and promise to never leave again. Not for a second.

A sharp ding alerted him of a message on his phone.

Choso:

You better visit. He’s a mess.

Sukuna:

You’ll take care of him. You promised.

Choso:

If you were so worried, you should’ve stayed. But I will. He’s my brother, too.

Sukuna:

If I find out you haven’t…

Choso:

Shut up and stop the threatening. You’re scaring me haha. I will. Love you

Sukuna:

Love you, kid.

Sukuna was confident it would all work out in the end, even if it hurt to do it. No matter what Choso said, Yuuji would be fine without him. He’d grow and flourish like a flower in the sun, all laughs and joy, never tainted by his older brother’s unnatural mind.

Choso would keep Yuuji safe and keep him updated in turn.

He’d be able to keep his family out of his own nasty business, one he was forced into in order to care for them.

And most importantly of all, he’d protect Yuuji from himself. Even if it killed him. Because God help him if he didn’t.