When Yuji ate the finger he didn’t know what to expect. He figured there would be a surge of inexplicable power coursing through his veins if what those two weird guys said was accurate at all.
He figured he’d be better suited to fight the monster terrorizing his school.
He figured he could finally help like his grandfather wanted.
He did not think he would end up chained to a wall in a barren room covered in some sort of sigils.
The white haired man was there when he woke up, Gojo, he said his name was.
Apparently Yuji was a vessel, something exceedingly rare, and even rarer that he was a vessel for a generationally powerful sorcerer. Yuji didn’t understand any of this but he pretended to follow along nonetheless.
Apparently he was to be executed, something about how this sorcerer was evil and by executing him they could rid of him entirely. This was all decided by faceless higher ups Yuji wasn’t given the dignity of meeting, and who were too cowardly to see the face of the young boy they sentenced to death.
Gojo played the part of the kind savior who claimed he managed to push back his execution so that he could eat all 20 fingers belonging to Sukuna.
From what he understood, eating one then executing him wasn’t enough to rid the jujutsu world of the curse forever, but if he consumed all 20 then killed him they no longer had a problem to worry about.
Yuji didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t wanna die, he really didn’t, but it seemed like this would help people. This would rid the world of an evil Yuji couldn’t even comprehend if this white haired man was to be believed.
So he complied, not like he had much choice.
The days passed in one big blur. There was no shifting of the sun to tell him when one day passed and the other began. Just dim lanterns that burned 24/7 to illuminate the room.
The only contact he had was a nameless man that would enter his chambers once a day to feed him. It wasn’t anything substantial, but it had the required nutrients.
The man tried to hand feed him, but it was very awkward for the two, so he seemed to ignore protocol for just this once and uncuff him so Yuji could feed himself.
This routine worked for a bit, but he would admit that the bucket in the corner to relieve himself was not a welcome addition to the room. It was humiliating, but it didn’t seem like it was going away.
He didn’t know how long, but he knew that it had in fact been a while since he saw Gojo again, coming in with what he labeled a “surprise.” Another finger.
With minimal conversation between the two he ate it. It was the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted. He didn’t remember the way it burned from the first time, likely because of all the adrenaline coursing through him at the time. It made him gag from the horrid taste, the taste of every disgusting bodily fluid mixed into one shriveled finger, and it made him feel hot all over.
After that he heard his voice.
Not frequently, but seemingly always when he was at his lowest just to make him feel lower.
It started as a nuisance, but as time passed, and the pain grew, he started to see it as a morbid blessing.
At least he had someone to keep him company, even if the company left something to be desired.
Eventually, his conditions began to take a toll on him. His mind was starting to slip. There were time he couldn’t even remember his name when all he was ever referred to as was “the boy” or “the vessel.” All names whispered on the other side of the closed door from voices he didn’t recognize and faces he couldn’t see, or names yelled in his head by the sinister voice that was started to infect every part of him. He much preferred the voice he knew over the ones he didn’t.
The more fingers he was fed the harder it was to hang onto himself.
The transition was slow, but significant. At finger five is when his appetite started to shift. The food given to him by the nameless man wasn’t enough. He felt the need for something more.
That’s when his body became his own victim. Any part of his body he could reach was subject to his hunger. He gnawed at the small bit of his shoulder he could access when he was chained up, and as soon as the chains came off he ignored the plate of food completely and bit relentlessly at his hands, tearing at skin. He tore out layers of skin at a time, clawing at himself like a wild animal. In some places he got down to bone. The nameless man was horrified, backing away slowly like he was face to face with a monster, and maybe he was.
He screamed and escaped the room as fast as he could, foolishly leaving the door wide open in his efforts to escape. The vessel did not try to escape despite his lack of chains, too enamored in feeding on his own body.
The nameless man returned with a muzzle and bandages.
They never unchained him after that.
Not long after that they added a bed. It wasn’t much of a bed, it lacked sheets and pillows, in fact it was just a mattress on the ground, but the vessel appreciated having a place to crawl into when the exhaustion of forcing his weak body to crawl in circles in an effort to stay active got to him.
The chains weren’t long enough for him to stand up, forcing him to stay close to the ground like a wild dog. He felt like one.
He was only truly pushed over the edge when around finger six, people he didn’t know started coming into his room. He never remembered the time between their entrance or exit, but he remembered the way his body ached, the way his scars started to grow, the way he saw blood in his urine, and the stains of blood, tears, and vomit that covered his mattress.
He didn’t like sleeping there anymore
It wasn’t until finger seven that the few people there to witness his descent into madness knew he was gone.
All the days of an unending hunger, all the days of crawling, all the days of trying to remember his name, all the days of trying to remember a time before this, it all caught up to him.
Sukuna didn’t pay much attention to what happened to the vessel, spending everyday plotting on how he could escape. He scolded his vessel immensely for not taking his chance to run when he could. The boy never answered, he just kept eating.
Sukuna didn’t start paying attention until there was a young boy in his domain.
His vessel.
Sukuna didn’t know when the boy learned to come into his domain at will, but he did, and now he never seemed to leave.
He didn’t talk, or even show any acknowledgment of the curse-user. He just stared in whatever direction he felt like and stayed curled up.
If he did move it was always on all fours despite the lack of chains. Sukuna tried a few times to get the boy’s attention through rather violent means. He tried hitting him, punching him, even slicing up his body. Nothing worked.
That’s when Sukuna started to pay attention, and that’s when things started to make sense.
He could feel the hunger the boy felt. A hunger much like his own, but he’d never gone starved for it. He’d never not known what it is he craved, Yuji was different. No one could satisfy his hunger, probably because it was seen as so inhumane, to feast on your fellow man. He needed something his “caretakers” refused to give him. It was pitiful.
He could feel the scraping of skin against the concrete as the boy crawled, could feel muscles becoming weak and bones becoming brittle. It was pathetic
Several days went by before it happened, and Yuji, likely like all the other times, retreated to Sukuna’s domain, leaving the sorcerer as the only real witness.
A man came in, old, fucking ancient even. And yet for such an old man he had quite the sadism for such a young boy. He learned why Yuji didn’t like the bed that day.
Sukuna wasn’t one for sympathy or worry, but he wouldn’t describe what he felt as such. He just felt contempt.
Sukuna was never above torture. In fact he loved it. He loved breaking down the strong to prove he was stronger, but he didn’t like preying on the weak. It was boring, but it was also a testament to one’s strength depending on who they went after. Only the weak try to prove themselves above the weaker.
That’s what this man was, a weak man preying on the weaker.
Sukuna didn’t understand why he cared, perhaps sometimes even more than the owner of the body.
Sukuna didn’t understand why he cared, but he knew he had more reasons than himself to escape this god forsaken room now.
~~~
Heavily inspired by “After the Lanterns Burn” by 1year2live on ao3
