Cursed Eyes (Itachi in JJk)

The chains groaned under the weight of the cursed corpse as it struggled. Each movement was a violent shake, the sound of metal scraping against stone echoing in the cavern. The sound of blood dripping on the ground and the shallow, labored, and ragged breaths of a man who had been taken apart piece by piece echoed loudly in the dark cavern. Learning a cursed puppet could breathe was a novel experience. He doubted the cursed corpse thought the same considering he had ripped off it's nose.
He stared back up at the cursed corpse, watching Its chest rise and fall at an irregular, and broken rhythm. His hand shook, not from fear but restraint. That instinctive urge to stop the agony and end the torture, but he clenched his fist, fighting back the urge to simply end it and be done with it. He derived no joy in the act but he would not let up, not until he got what he wanted.
"Seems like you've been having fun," a rough voice called out from behind them. Satoru was on his feet a split second after the first syllable had been let out, a blue glow at the edge of his fingertips. But Jiki had not bothered turning back. Instead, he continued his grim work, working out the toenail from its root with sideward movements that ended up ripping the toenail along with a bit of flesh and thread.
The act elicited a scream, followed by sobs and curses from the still-bound cursed corpse, but Jiki had grown deaf to the cursed puppet's words.
He dropped the toenail to the side and stepped back to observe his gruesome work. It had been slow going, torturing something that was only forty percent flesh, with the rest being a mix of cursed energy, threads, etc., but Jiki was a fast learner.
It was a mystery how Principal Yagi had even created the Frankenstein monstrosity, using human flesh, blood, bone, and meat as well as threads, stitches, and cursed energy. The result was a cursed corpse that could house a soul. The soul of an incarnated sorcerer. It gave Jiki an idea of just how dangerous the usually taciturn Principal could be.
The man matched almost all the criteria needed for a special grade rating: a solid grounding in cursed energy manipulation with years of experience to go with it. The major thing Jiki believed he lacked was that spark—of ambition, of power, of the decisive need to change the world and etch his name into the sands of time. The lack of sheer output to make his curse technique a weapon of mass destruction was something that could be circumvented.
"How is she?" Jiki questioned as he cleaned his hands, wiping away blood and ectoplasm with a rag. Prolonged torture simply broke the captive quickly. The trick was learning the fine balance between prolonging the act and not breaking the captive. The secret was in the breaks. The longer the break, the more the captive healed and thought. Those long seconds and minutes without pain made the anticipation of its return just as horrible as the pain itself.
Jiki continued to clean his hands as the voice replied once more. Toji Fushiguro. He didn't think he could mistake it for anything, although it seemed like his cousin wasn't as familiar. Jiki welcomed the man's presence. Satoru's attention on him had been... unnerving.
"Her memory is foggy, a lot of missing pieces." With that, he sent Jiki a look. "Partial anemisia as a result of the shock I suppose, other than that she's fine, just sleeping off everything. Didn't think she'd be able to close her eyes again after what happened."
So it worked. Jiki felt his heart skip for a bit and strangled the urge to immediately run toward Aiko's room and repeat the process on her. But discipline stopped him. Partial amnesia. Could he do the same to Aiko knowing she might lose some of the memories they shared?
"Toji Fushiguro," Satoru remarked with a frown as the scarred man stepped out of the shadows. "I'm not the slightest bit surprised you still lurk in the dark," Jiki noted the bite in Satoru's voice. His cousin held a grudge.
Toji shrugged with a grin as his flinty eyes drifted from Satoru to Jiki and finally rested once more on the captive that hung a few meters away, and then he whistled.
"Didn't think you could go that dark, brat." Toji looked into his eyes and saw something because he wiped off the smirk and turned to face Satoru instead.
"Anyway, in the forest surrounding your clan, I spotted some of the Hei and Akai Hasu. Thought I'd inform you since we're now…" The scarred man thought on the word for a minute before Satoru decided to save him the stress.
"Allies," Jiki noted the amusement in Satoru's voice and the stare the older man continued to give Toji. Judging by the returning grin on Toji's face, he was just as amused and interested as he eyed Satoru up.
Jiki was suddenly struck with the realization that he was the only reason the two men had not already devolved into violence. So he decided to steer the conversation away.
"The Akai Hasu?" he asked as he dried his hands, and Satoru broke the stare-off with Toji. Judging by the juvenile smirk on the scarred man's face, he must have felt he had won something.
Jiki was familiar with the Hei. He had once been forced to thin their ranks once. But the Akai Hasu?
"The Kamo special forces," Satoru answered his question. "Each clan has always had a special unit and black guard. It's a tradition as old as the three great clans, even older, considering each clan branched off from even more ancient clans. Some were so famous that their names still draw dread, like the Fujiwara clan's Sun, Moon, and Stars squad or the Abe clan's Desshi pacification squad of the Heian era."
"How come we don't have one?" Jiki asked, slowly realizing that his knowledge about the clans was lacking. While he had gotten the regular introductory classes from Old Man Tatsumi, it had been one of the few times he hadn't truly cared enough to dig deep.
"They were decimated. The Gojo has been in decline since before my birth—a decline that was slowed by me and ended by you." Satoru smiled at him before continuing. "We've been rebuilding, but it's slow going. Do you remember Gojo Utake?" Jiki gave it a thought before nodding. The man that had tried to help him fight Tamamo-no-mae.
"He's the one in charge of it."
"I see," Jiki replied, thinking furiously. Once again, he was reminded of how much Satoru's birth, alongside his own, had changed the scale of power between the clans. Where Satoru had balanced that scale, his presence had overturned it heavily in favor of the Gojo clan.
He could already feel the other clans plotting how best to take advantage of this gap in their defense, this attack on their home. This was without even acknowledging the higher-ups and their increasing enmity toward him for his defiance.
He turned to Toji at that point, noting the way the scarred man watched the whimpering form of the cursed puppet still hanging midair. It was almost time to return to his gruesome work, but first—
"Toji Fushiguro," he called the man intently by his full name as he faced him, drawing the man's attention. "I've made good on my part. Now it's time for you to acknowledge yours."
Flinty black eyes stared into his red for long seconds before a shark-like smile tore its way across Toji's scarred lips as the man grinned. Once again, the parallels between Toji and Kisame were glaring.
"Fine."
A single word, but that was all Jiki required as he turned his back on the scarred man. Forcing Toji into a binding vow was impossible, considering the very world ignored his presence, so he'd have to make do with his word.
He could almost feel Satoru and Toji return to their childish staredown as his hands caressed the tools he had requested from the kitchen before settling on a thin knife. The clan lacked true torture equipment, but Jiki was a resourceful person.
The knife that was generally used to fillet fish would work just as well with meat. The sound of the edge of the blade trailing the metal tray forced the cursed corpse to jerk its head up as Jiki approached once more.
"W-wait. Stop. You can't—"
The knife slipped under the skin, and the cursed corpse screamed in response.
"Introductions!"
Jiki's movements came to a stop, and he could feel Satoru and Toji also focus on the cursed corpse.
"That's what you wanted right, let's start with that." The cursed corpse spluttered out as rapidly as it could.
"M-My name is Aizu Yoruzu."
"Aizu? That's the name of a prefecture from the Heian era," Satoru noted from behind him. The cursed corpse sent them a bloody smile, or what should have been one, but Jiki's work on her body turned it into a grimace.
As if sensing the unasked question in the air, Satoru continued, "Most vagabond sorcerers of that era were without last names and generally took on the name of their regions as their last names."
Jiki nodded at that new information. They had finally gotten an answer from the cursed puppet, even if it wasn't the one they explicitly wanted. It was a step forward.
A phone rang, and Satoru and Jiki turned their attention to its direction: Toji.
The sorcerer-killer looked confused for a short moment before realizing the sound was coming from him. He slipped his hand into his pocket, brought out the phone, and answered it.
He was silent for long moments before slipping the phone back into his pocket and asking a question. "It was a voicemail, but... who the fuck is Sukuna?"
Satoru and Jiki shared a glance. "King of curses, Sukuna?" Satoru asked for confirmation.
"Seems like it. The name sounds familiar, but it's probably a man, so?" The scarred man replied with a drawl as he shrugged his massive shoulders.
They were silent for a long minute before Jiki broke it. "You can go," he turned to address Satoru.
His cousin frowned at him in return, but they both knew he was right. He remembered Megumi's mission was to retrieve one of Sukuna's fingers from a safe box. If that was compromised, then one of them needed to be present.
"Ah, is my love back already?" Yorozu exclaimed deliriously in pain, yet that name had given it some clarity. Jiki's attention was drawn back to Yoruzu. Sukuna had also been a sorcerer from the Heian era, the same as the soul in the cursed corpse. Likely the same as the owl vessel from over a year ago. This whole thing was rapidly feeling like a plan coming together.
A nagging feeling that Jiki was tired of, so he slowly approached the cursed corpse, even as he heard the displacement that signified Satoru's teleportation.
He looked up into the all-too-human eyes of the cursed corpse and asked the question he had wanted to ask from the beginning. "When you woke up, you referenced someone. A promise made. Tell me about him. Tell me about the true culprit behind the cursed comas and what he wants." 
He could tell the moment she clammed up. Her mouth slammed shut as she prepared to lie or fake obliviousness. Yoruzu might've been a powerful sorcerer from the golden age of Jujutsu, but she was not a trained liar.
"Well, I don't know—"
Already, Jiki had turned his attention away, and his hands drifted toward the rack of improvised torture instruments. It looked like she would need more motivation.
Megumi and Yuji were seated in the back of an ambulance, and even though it was almost an hour later, Megumi still looked at the other boy warily.
They sat opposite one another, while the unconscious forms of Yuji's classmates were strapped to stretchers between them.
"Why're you giving me that creepy look? I don't like men."
"What? What! That's not why I'm looking at you, you pink-headed gorilla."
"Ah, are you sure? I don't judge. This is a free—"
That was enough proof for Megumi to know it was still the innocent yet strong boy he had come to know. He let out a sigh in response, his wariness dropping a few notches.
"Anyway, it looks like you're really in control, but how is that possible?"
"How isn't it? It's my body, right?"
Megumi put his face in his hands as he considered the boy's stupid yet simple and honest answer.
"I've never heard of incarnations going back to dormancy after they've taken over a body." Admittedly, his official training had only started barely months ago, so he was not exactly the premier standard when it came to jujutsu knowledge.
Yuji put his hand on his chin as he thought about it before shrugging in reply. "I dunno. Is that really important?"
Megumi blinked at the question before realizing once more that Itadori Yuji wasn't a sorcerer in the traditional sense. Even Megumi, who had been raised on the fringes of sorcery, knew about the Imaginary God and the Malevolent King of Curses. The importance of his incarnation.
He found his face sinking into his palms once more before he moved to reply, but their vehicle jerked to a stop. They had gotten to their destination.
They disembarked and watched as the paramedics holstered and rushed the others into the hospital. They followed behind them. The sight of the hospital seemed to shift Yuji's mood as he stared at it with a somber expression.
"So what happens now?" the boy asked as they walked past the revolving doors.
"I don't know," Megumi admitted. He glanced at the boy and remembered this was partially his fault. His lack of focus, and his worry about Tsumiki had resulted in the boy swallowing Sukuna's finger in a brave yet stupid effort to save him. He didn't think he was ever going to forget that.
He nudged the pink-haired boy with his shoulder, drawing his attention. "I've called some reliable people, so don't worry about it."
He gave the boy a brittle smile, one that was matched by the boy's own, more honest one.
"Hello!"
Satoru greeted the two teenagers as he opened the door and snuck his head in with a grin. The wide-eyed look on the two boys' faces caused a tingling down his spine as he smiled with mischief written all over his face. "Now what are two strapping lads like you doing all alone?"
"What're you talking about, Bastar—I'll kill you—"
"We were simply—why are you even—"
The simultaneous, stuttered-over excuses and explanations from the duo brought an even bigger smile to his face. The scene was a delightful change of pace from the clan he had returned from and Jiki's apathetic act of violence.
He could feel his mood dropping once more at the thought of how far his cousin was willing to go to get answers and revenge, and how helpless he was in aiding him. The only thing he could do was stand by him and support him, the same way Jiki had fought and struggled so hard to do the same.
Satoru felt a nudge on his Limitless. The sneaky bastard was trying to get past him. All the more reason for him to stay in the way, he decided with a feral grin. He hadn't forgotten the hole the sorcerer-killer had put in his head, not when he still had the scar to remind him.
It was only the agreement the man had come to with Jiki that stopped him from getting a point-blank Hollow Purple to the face like Satoru had always planned. He had searched for him for so long for just that, but the scarred bastard was as resourceful as he was slippery.
The only reason they had found him at all was because he slipped up and played his hand in Shoko's kidnapping.
Yet Satoru was not so bulky that he could cover the full doorway. So the sound of the hinges coming off as the man kicked the door fully in was not surprising. Instead, Satoru took comfort in watching him shimmy his way between the space between Limitless and the gap he had created by uprooting the door.
Their eyes met, and Satoru let out a more honest grin as he saw the scowl on the other man's face. He had won this round.
"Megumi," the man called out as he fully entered the room and took in the scene. The two boys had quieted down with the removal of the door and watched the two older men with confusion written on their faces.
"Toji," the boy replied, but Satoru's attention had drifted away from the weird dynamic between the father and son duo and was focused on the boy sitting on the bed.
He had gotten the highlight by overhearing the voicemail, but he needed clarity, so he asked Megumi, even as he stared at the pink-haired, confused boy, "Where did you say the Special Grade cursed object, Sukuna's finger is again?"
"He ate it," the boy replied with a straight face pointing at the other boy, and Satoru laughed in response as he looked at the boy. Past his skin, bones, and muscles, he stared at what made him, him.
It was always a confusing act, explaining what the Six Eyes saw. He had tried his best to put it into words, but it was like explaining the taste of sound. The closest person who could relate to how he viewed the world was Jiki.
When he looked at someone—truly looked at them, without trying to dull the details—he saw in ways that could not be defined. He saw cursed energy: its intricacies, its flow, its effects, and its distinct traits. However rare it was to find a sorcerer with such distinct traits, they manifested in the cursed energy.
That's why he could see the finger in the boy. Yet, it wasn't simply a finger resting in his stomach that could be regurgitated whenever he wanted. The act of swallowing Sukuna's finger was as symbolic as it was practical. The pink-haired boy had absorbed the finger, and its presence in him was more metaphysical than truly physical, yet there was still something of the physical presence in him.
Satoru could feel the boy's cursed energy—its rapid yet unstable flow, signifying a fresh awakening. It was something he usually saw in younger children or the rare late bloomers.
The boy should've been an ordinary kid before he had taken the finger or so Satoru thought. Unless the hyper-dense musculature and supercharged nerves the boy possessed had existed before he consumed it.
"Ho, it really combined with you," Satoru admitted as he stood up straight, a smirk on his face. "What are you?" he asked, amused, as he confirmed the boy's body had always been like that, even before he swallowed the finger.
"A high school student?" the boy answered, clearly confused.
Satoru could feel Sukuna's dormancy. The finger had simply forced whatever cursed energy potential the boy had to awaken because Sukuna must have found it impossible to use a body that couldn't manipulate cursed energy.
But now it was dormant—suppressed. An act that was only supposed to be achievable by a perfect vessel.
​
Perfect vessels that transcended simple incarnations. Ha, and here he thought they were a myth. Once again, he was greeted by the sight of something that should've been forgotten. Something dredged up from the Heian era. For perfect vessels weren't simply born. They were engineered.
If it had just been the boy's physical body, Satoru might've waved it off. He had seen mutations and special bodies before. But coupled with the ability to suppress not just any cursed spirit, but Sukuna himself…
"Now isn't this amusing. Anything off with your body so far?"
The boy shook his head. Satoru shrugged nonchalantly before replying, "Then there's nothing to worry about. For now, at least. It's just one finger of Sukuna. I'm sure even this brute can take care of it. But you'll be coming back with me."
Toji sent him a glare.
"Sure," the boy replied with a shrug to match Satoru's. He already liked the kid.
"But wait, what about my life? My school?"
"Depends on how everything turns out," Satoru said.
"And Tsumiki?! That was why you sent me away!" Megumi cut in, standing to face his father. Satoru kept silent, folding his arms and slouching against the doorframe as he watched the father and son stare each other down, with Yuji between them, his confused owl-like eyes darting from one to the other.
The tense stare was broken when Toji replied with a smile—not a confident grin like Satoru remembered from years ago, nor the smirk he'd worn earlier when he had bypassed all the clan's barriers, protections, and seals. It was a simple, honest, heartwarming smile that had no place on the face of a man known as the Sorcerer Killer. A man who had killed Riko Amanai without a second thought. Satoru felt his grip tighten around his bicep.
The smile lasted for only a second before shifting back into the familiar, self-serving smirk that fit so perfectly on Toji's scarred face. "She's fine."
Megumi blinked, disbelief, fear, and hope flashing across his face as he stared at his father, waiting for the punchline—for him to laugh and say it was a lie. Then Megumi turned to Satoru, and Satoru smiled back, masking his true feelings. It wasn't Megumi's fault that Riko Amanai was dead, nor Tsumiki Fushiguro's.
Megumi turned back to his father, and the disbelief and fear melted into a sob that quickly turned into tears. The boy fell to his knees and cried like a baby. Gone was the sass and flippant attitude Satoru had grown accustomed to. Just the tears of a boy too happy to do anything but cry. The pink-haired boy, Satoru would have to learn his name soon—patted Megumi's back while Toji stood there, unmoving.
It took a moment for Satoru to realize that Toji had frozen up, unable to react to his usually taciturn son's emotional outburst. Toji remained motionless for a long second before he moved, with hesitation binding his every effort but he moved, finally crossing over to Megumi and awkwardly kneeling to comfort him with a hug.
The pink-haired boy glanced up at Satoru, who gestured for him to follow. Satoru turned and stepped out of the room. A minimal flex of BLUE caused the door to drift toward him just as the pink-haired boy slipped on a shirt and stepped out, watching the door float in amazement.
Satoru deactivated the technique, letting the door drop with a thud to give the father and son some privacy. Then he turned his attention to the pink-haired boy.
"What's your name?"
"Yuji. Yuji Itadori."
"We have a lot to talk about, Yuji Itadori," Satoru replied with a grin. The higher-ups were going to freak out about this, and he knew it would amuse him for a long time.
"Sure, but first, can we do something about my classmates' hospital bills? I don't think they can afford it." Yuji scratched the back of his head with a bashful expression.
Satoru blinked at the selflessness before his grin stretched wider. "I think I'm going to like you, kid. Now, have you heard the gospel about my beautiful and brave little cousin Jiki?"