Archive of Our Own ^beta

~~~

He can barely see Yuuj slouched at the bottom of the stairs, hidden away by the dark, looming shadows of the pillars holding up the station. His uniform’s ripped to shreds, bright hair plastered to his face with dried blood. There’s something in the tense set of his shoulders and his crooked spine that speak of something heavy, an unspeakable emotional turmoil that Choso’s well aware of, has experienced twice in his admittedly short lived life. 

Choso stands atop the tallest step, looking down. His own shadow stretches to barely touch the small of Yuuji’s back. 

“Yuuji? It’s me, Choso.” He places a hand on the stair’s handrail, walks down a few steps. The sound echoes in the empty subway, once full of people, now reduced to splatters of blood on the once pristine floor. Scattered around are material goods dropped in the midst of panic- a pink purse, phones with shattered screens, the odd suitcase laying dispondantly on its side. 

Yuuji doesn’t react to his voice nor his steps, looking straight ahead at the station’s large, imposing doors. 

He’s so close now that he can hear the sickly flow of Yuuji’s lifeblood. He’s lost so much blood, so much more than a normal human should be able to endure, body struggling to replenish the lost volume. Yet still, his heart pounds a strong song of survival, pushing through what should be the limits of human capacity. 

Warbled screaming sounds behind him. There’s the crashing of glass, the thunder of buildings collapsing, the hurried steps of frenzied humans running for their lives. Noritoshi Kamo had gone, along with Uraume and Mahito, swallowed into his stomach. All that remains are the unsealed curses running rampant in the streets, tearing up Shibuya, consuming each other, desperate and hungry from decades spent spiraling in Kamo’s cursed technique. 

“What will you do little brother?” he asks, once the screams and tremors die out. “Will you go back to Jujutsu high? Rejoin the rest of your companions?” 

Or will you come with me , trembles in the back of his throat like a bird struggling to spring free. Choso forces that wish back with clenched teeth, listens instead to his brother’s wishes.  

“I can’t do that anymore,” Yuuji replies, voice grim. “I can’t go back.” He presses his forehead into his fists, breathes something wet and rough. 

Choso doesn’t know what else he can ask. So he stands there, offering what little he can with his presence. 

“What will you do?” Yuuji asks finally, still sitting on the stairs, hands clasped together like they’re the lifeline holding the pieces of his soul together. 

This Choso can answer. 

“I’ll follow wherever you go.” 

“Even after all I’ve done to your brothers?”

“It’s a misunderstanding that can be blamed on no one but Noritoshi Kamo.” 

He thinks about Kechizu and Eso’s corpses, left to decompose and fester at Jujutsu High. It hurts him to think about their treatment, how quickly their lives had been vanquished when they’d barely just begun to live. A matter for another day. He has to put his only living kin first, protect him so he doesn’t reach the same sad end his younger brothers have suffered. 

Silently, Yuuji stands up. His entire body creaks with effort. Even as he sways, unsteady on his feet, cursed energy billows around his fist, crackling in the air like flames.

“Then we will cleanse Shibuya of all the curses that have been released.” he says, pointing toward the giant doors of the subway. Behind the glazed glass, a towering tentacled curse pauses, as if sensing the strong energy emitting from Yuuji. It lumbers close, shape blubbery and pixelated and smashes itself into the door, splintering the strong wood. 

“As you wish little brother,” Choso says, jumping down the last few steps to stand at Yuuji’s side. 

~~~

It’s been a week, maybe two. 

Frankly, Chousho hasn’t been keeping track. Time is meaningless to curses. So he doesn’t count the days or the hours, looking only at the sun and scent of the morning dew to tell when it’s time to wake and when it’s time to slink back to their makeshift home and prepare for the next exhaustive day. 

Yuuji does care, though, his precious little brother. Every night they come home from a day of slaughtering curses and crushing skulls, stinking of death, Yuuji plops onto his mattress in a tall building they claimed as their own and adds another tick mark to the row of growing lines across the wall.

He always sits there, staring blank faced, tracing the marks for minutes on end while Choso rummages through the office’s refrigerator (Yuuji had told him the name of the strange device weeks before) and scraps together whatever doesn’t stink of mold or mildew to push into Yuuji’s leather scarred hands. 

It’s a true blessing that he doesn’t need to eat anymore, no longer feels the pangs of hunger that settle deep in one's belly, clenching and groaning, inducing nausea to spread throughout the body. That’s more food he can leave for Yuuji, who’s still growing and healing from wounds sustained in Shibuya. 

Although -he has to admit- he does miss the little sweets he used to enjoy back when Japan was still warring with sticks and swords, legends and myths reigning free over fertile land. 

As it is, today’s another day of staring and waiting. 

Yuuji’s in his usual position atop his scavenged mattress, scratching another line onto the cracked wall. Drywall flakes where he carves, clearly favoring the shoulder that hadn’t been pulled out of its socket by a curse with too many arms and too many teeth. 

Choso’s unused to this silence. Mahito and Geto had liked to indulge in frivolous games of poker and cards in their free time, always goading him into games under the pretense of building relations. Dago’s constant blubbering and Jogo’s cigar, blabbering every time he exhales, would drown their hideout in pleasant white buzz  so nothing was ever silent. And in the golden years hundreds of years before now, Eso and Kechizu had filled the silence with talks of grandeur, of the four of them traversing the world fearless and free from the restrictive village they resided. 

It was their dream, so it is also Choso’s dream. 

With a sigh, Choso drops his gaze and makes his way to the refrigerator in the corner of the room. It hums sadly, the yellow light flickering when he pops open the door. 

Five bottles of water are slotted into the side, wrapped in a shiny material Yuuji had explained was plastic. A pile of wilted lettuce lies in the slot below. There’s barely anything left but a few frozen rice balls wrapped in seaweed and stuffed with sweet plums. It wouldn’t do- Yuuji’s a growing boy, but he simply refuses to move and Choso doesn’t want to leave him alone again while he’s still injured. Doesn’t want to risk them being separated, his only kin left in the world fed to the curses that roam below them right now, slinking through the concrete with corrosive saliva and poisoned fangs. 

Because no matter how strong he is, no one is infallible.

He made this mistake in the past. It wouldn’t happen again. 

The onigiri is cold in his hands. Try as he might, he can’t warm it up, the grains of rice crumbly and dry between his fingers. 

There’s a tired slump in Yuuji’s shoulders as Choso approaches him. He breaks the thousand yard stare when Choso’s shadow covers the ticks on the walls and accepts his offering with a nod of his head.

“Thanks,” Yuuji says stiffly, unwrapping the onigiri wrapping. It’s a clear difference from the first few days, when Yuuji was so wary of him he refused to sleep for days on end, watching him with glowing eyes under the blanketed darkness of night. Now the wariness had faded to reluctant tolerance and mutual respect, when Choso had saved Yuuji from decapitation from a blunder caused by his sleep deprivation. 

Yuuji’s shoulders stiffen as Choso continues hovering over him. Sensing his unease, Choso crouches down so he’s not looming over him, sitting across from Yuuji to watch him eat. Rice falls from the corner of his mouth with every bite, grains too dry to stay together and hold shape. 

“Anytime little brother. You can rely on me for anything,” Choso says, placing a hand across where his heart would be if he were still alive. 

The jagged scar marring his brother’s face and the edge of his mouth glow in the light of the dying sun. It’s an ugly reminder of his faults, the blind, scathing hatred clouding his mind when he’d first spotted Yuuji, still carrying the scent of Eso’s cursed blood and innards on his hands. Sometimes, while Yuuji sleeps, Choso traces the warped lines with his thumb, feeling the crevice of rough skin that has just begun to heal. 

Yuuji’s expression falls even more, eyes sinking into his face. 

“Still calling me that huh,” Yuuji replies, taking another bite. Then, whispered under his breath to himself. ”It’s not like he’ll listen to me anyways.” 

Choso hums, decides that being truthful may be the best course of action. 

“You will remember in due time. And even if you don’t I will be here for you nonetheless. You are my precious kin and I would not give you up for the world.”

It’s his most true, heartfelt feeling. A phrase that he’s been repeating the past few weeks, always whispered in the gloom of the night as Yuuji sleeps, stuffed into the corner of the room like a scared, wounded animal. It’s the first time he’d said it out loud, fearful of driving Yuuji away with his earnest, true thoughts. 

He’s in a vulnerable state of mind right now, still healing from his injuries and accumulated infections from the war at Shibuya. Perhaps a reminder that he’s not alone would help quell his stormy mind. Choso likes to think that their weeks together have been a healing process for the both of them, even if the road to Yuuji’s recovery is slow and winding and covered with thorns. 

Yuuji freezes in the middle of taking a bite. His face contorts, a myriad of micro expressions blooming across his face. The expressions move too fast for Choso to place an exact emotion. He sees recognition, disbelief, a flash of pain followed by furrowed eyebrows and clenched teeth, then something complicated he can’t pinpoint. 

“You-you’re-.”  His throat swallows. A small keen comes out through clenched teeth. 

Yuuji stuffs the rest of his onigiri into his mouth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying anything else. All that does is make him choke on the last few pieces of dry plum. Coughs escape his lungs in painful rasps and Choso quickly gets up to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. 

“Drink carefully,” Choso says gently as he hands the bottle over. He stops himself from reaching out and rubbing Yuuji’s shoulder, not wanting to agitate him any further. “We don’t have much left.” 

Choso doesn’t question the watery tone of his voice. He ignores the way Yuuji hangs his head as he accepts the beverage and gulps down the water, hiding his eyes with dusty, shaggy hair. It’s not his right to pry. Everything would come in due time, whether it be a week from now or years. 

Instead, Choso looks far into the distance at the descending sun. Sickening curses spawn as far as the eye can see. Some situate themselves on the top of light posts, many eyes searching for more prey. A gargantuan one devours another, nostrils rolling as it catches a new scent and lumbers off, letting the smaller curses move in to fight for scraps. There’s a big one, the one that Yuuji had downed by himself a few hours ago, a dark splat of festering flesh on the dirty streets. 

He tucks in his sleeves and makes himself comfortable, sitting against the wall right next to Yuuji’s treasured tallies. It’s the way he prefers to sleep, back pressed to the wall, head facing the crumbled wall where curses slink past, ignoring them in favor of bigger prey.

Minutes later, Yuuji crawls onto his mattress. There’s some rustling, the movement of sheets. The squeak of springs as Yuuji finally settles on his side and then silence. 

“Good night Yuuji,” he says, not expecting an answer. 

Night finally begins to take over, the sun dipping over the horizon. Once Yuuji’s breathing evens, the orange light disappearing as the moon unveils itself from dark clouds, Choso falls asleep listening to Yuuji’s strong, steady heartbeat. 

May the next morning come anew and bring good news of Yuuji’s recovery. 

~~~~

Sometimes, Choso likes to reminisce about the past.

 It happens most times while he stands in wait, closing his eyes and turning his face toward the sun while Yuuji heads off to gather another group of curses. He sees Japan of the past, vibrant and colorful with grass and native life. The wind is flowing and the leaves accompany, enchanted by nature’s breath. The curses are weak and few in between, driven away by a rare era of prosperity headed by wars won in distant lands. 

He sees them, all four brothers crowded around the seats of a dango shop, trading bites and pleasant chatter. He himself is leaning across the stand ,watching. There’s no treat in his hands because despite his best efforts raising three others besides himself is not an easy task and he simply doesn’t have enough funds saved up for his own desert. But that’s okay, because they're together and his brothers’ smiles are bright and to him that’s all that matters. 

But then, but then...

Yuuji looks up, eyes shining while Eso and Kechizhu are distracted with a passing cat. He waves his hand with a mischievous smirk, urging Choso closer and when he finally relents, bending down to look at his youngest brother, Yuuji sticks out a hand, narrowly missing his eyes. Clutched between his sun kissed fingers are a row of untouched dango coated in sweet sesame seeds. His favorite flavor, red bean. 

“ I saved some for you big brother! I’m not hungry,” Yuuji whispers, despite not having eaten anything that day, despite dango being his favorite kind of sweets. “Don’t tell the others though, because they’d eat it right out from my hand! I really don’t want Kechizu’s drool on me again.”

Yuuji grins, eyes gold and warm and sweet. The love that overflows from his brother’s smile is enough for him to cry and so he does, weeping while the summer leaves dance with the wind and Yuuji’s worried voice fills the sky. 

“Choso!”

Yuuji’s harsh yell snaps him out of his reverie. The memories fade like the wind, tall grandiose trees replaced by diphalated buildings collapsing into themselves, leaning precariously in the wind. He claps his hands together, bending his thumbs, and a jet of blood shatters the open maw of the curse chasing Yuuji. 

Yuuji makes quick work of the last equine shaped curse, springing off a wall and plunging his fist through its neck. Black gunk spews from the hole, coating Yuuji in a mist of black when he pulls his arm back. The curse dissipates with a final roar and then it’s just Yuuji in the air, falling gracefully. 

Once he lands on the concrete street, footsteps cat soft, Choso approaches him, clapping his hands.

“Your strength is increasing Yuuji. Soon you’ll have completely recovered and we’ll be able to take on more than ever before. I’ll have to make sure I improve too as your big brother. ” 

He says this with pride, because true strength is to be commended. In the world of curses,where violence runs rampant and death is an everyday occurance, only one law dictates who survives to see another era and who dies out, a test of power that Yuuji has been passing with flying colors as his strength steadily returns. 

When Yuuji turns to look at him, Choso has to bite down the urge to wipe at his face. There’s a sheen of black poison all over his face and clothes. He isn’t familiar with this type of curse, doesn’t know if its corrosive abilities rivaled the poisonous blood coursing through his own body. Before he can do anything though, Yuuji’s swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand, looking only slightly inconvenienced by the gore. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, breaking their eye contact to look at the ground. “I’ll go round up some more.”

The disappointment from the curt response pools deep in his gut. Perhaps he’d been too hopeful the night before, thinking Yuuji would open up after his heartfelt confession. It might have been better to wait a few more days, give him just enough time so the sting of his companion’s death doesn’t cut quite as deep. 

He overlays his memory of Yuuji over the battle worn boy in front of him, trying to place the gentle smile that always greeted him in his dreams. It’s difficult. Soft cheeks have been replaced by jagged edges. Yuuji’s chin is too angled, teeth and lips set in a way that makes him look guarded and harsh. The only similarity is the color of his eyes, which have now dulled into a deep, murky gold. 

He’s still his brother through and through. Choso just wishes he had been there to see his growth and departure from their nest. 

“Stay vigilant,” Choso says, nodding. He resumes position, folding his fingers to prepare another charge of blood. 

“Wait.”

A hand settles on his shoulder. Strong, warm fingers press into the dip of his clavicle. Choso’s head snaps to the right where Yuuji’s looking up at him, filthy from equine blood. He motions to his nose, eyebrows furrowing a bit. He reaches out and suddenly stops, tilts his head like he’s rethinking the action and retracts his hand. 

“You’re bleeding from your nose. Did you get hurt?” Yuuji asks. There’s a hint of worry in his voice. He cranes his neck, looking up through his lashes in search of the wound. 

Choso follows the motion, raising a hand to feel his face. Just in time, the stripe across his nose oozes another trail of thick black blood, dripping over his hands and splashing onto the grimy streets. 

“It’s nothing to worry about Yuuji,” Choso says, slightly breathless, senses alight at their proximity, so close that when Yuuji exhales, he feels the breath hit his neck, warm then cool as it condenses. This close he can see the rough texture of Yuuji’s scars, still painfully red around the edges. “ It’s just a side effect of using my cursed technique. It helps me control my blood.” 

“Oh, gotcha.”

The warmth from his shoulder disappears. Choso half wants to chase after it. The desire to take Yuuji’s hand and force it back onto his shoulder is overwhelming. It’s the first form of willing contact he’s had from his little brother, the first sign of worry and acknowledgement and Choso drinks it in like nectar, the concern in Yuuji’s eyes, the pursed frown of his lips. 

Yuuji steps back and wipes his face again only to smear more black oil over his cheek, unaware of Choso’s inner turmoil. 

“Then I’ll go get another group. Get ready.”

And then he’s gone, a bright red flash amidst the dirt and rubble. 

The press of Yuuji’s fingertips burns his shoulder. He feels the blaze even through all the layers he dons,the phantom press of a hand laying heavy atop his crumpled clothing. It takes a while for Choso to regain his composure but when Yuuji returns dozens of small curses on his tail, he’s ready and his supernovas shower the sky in red. 

~~~

It’s cold. 

Time is meaningless to curses. Still, Choso notes the shift in seasons, the change from sweltering sun to graying skies and frosted weeds. It’s habit by now, drilled into him from his past life when he worked in the fields and his life was dictated by the mercy of mother nature. 

The days are shorter now, the sun hidden beneath dark, lumbering clouds swelling with rain. It had been pretty before, the rain illuminating all sorts of flickering lights and screen displays. Like fireworks, so many flashing reds and blues and neon yellows. Choso had been entranced the first time he awoke to the sight he usually only saw once a year, when his village would pray for a year of good harvests by sending up massive fireworks that bloomed across the sky. 

Now, with most of the electricity cut, power lines crumbled from the weight of curses searching for prey, the whole city is gray and dark. 

Yuuji’s hood is perpetually drawn over his head these days. Whenever he speaks, little clouds of frost escape into the air. More than once, when his clothing untucks in the midst of battle, Choso sees the ripple of chicken skin, goosebumps popping up from flits of chilled wind. He’s more jumpy, more anxious, always peering into the gloomy shadowed streets like he’s aware something will pop up despite Choso’s insistence that they won’t. 

“Are you cold Yuuji?” he would ask in the aftermath of battle, offering his yukata while rain pelts his hair and flattens his clothes. He doesn’t feel cold himself. Like with many things,though, he remembers the pain of it.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Yuuji would reply, shivering in his soaked hoodie and mud splattered trousers. 

And so they slink off to their tower, stinking of rain and gore, the scent too settled in their skin to be washed away by mere rain. 

Because of the constant downpour, they’ve been forced to retreat from the center of the room, crowding to the side of the office next to the humming fridge and tallied walls. Rain falls in waves from the massive hole in the ceiling. It used to a luxury, open to the sun that warmed the floor they slept on for the night. Now it’s a hazard ,rain and the occasional sleet pelting the office and drowning everything in it with acid rain collected from the air. 

Their only saving grace is a small drain situated right underneath the hole. It chortles water to the outside of the building in drone. Choso has to periodically get up to clear it from twigs and leaves, lest the entire floor be flooded with dirty water. 

Behind him, there’s the sound of wet clothes falling to the floor. Yuuji swears under his breath, and then there’s two more wet plops. From the corner of his eyes, Choso sees Yuuji fling his socks, nearly gray from groundwater, before bending down to unroll his tights. 

“I don’t think they’ll dry in time for tomorrow,” Choso says, looking away to give Yuuji his privacy. 

“Yeah. You’re right. I can’t exactly sleep in them either.”

Another wet plop. This time Choso sees a flash of red. The hoodie then. 

“Should have packed an extra pair of underwear,” Yuuji laughs humorlessly. 

“Shall I help you string them up?”

Choso’s hands itch with the desire to do something, anything. Instead, he reigns to push back his hair, plastered to his face from rain. 

“No, I can do that by myself.” 

When Choso turns to face Yuuji, he’s greeted with his naked back. He’s clad in nothing but his underwear, the wet fabric clinging tight to his skin. Scars line the expanse of his back, some fresh, some old. The scars symbolize how he’s grown, Choso tries to tell himself, so that the worry and guilt of being unable to protect his brother doesn’t consume him. 

All their towels from last night are still wet from when they’d been caught by surprise from the initial downpour, and so Choso can offer him nothing as Yuuji sweeps up his discarded clothing, hanging them on the coat racks nailed to the wall, looking like a sad, drowned animal. 

When Yuuji trudges past him to his corner of the room, Choso grabs a hold of his shoulder, tries to offer him the same comfort he did days ago, the remembrance of Yuuji’s warm fingerprints over his shoulder. 

Instead, Yuuji flinches harshly. His head snaps up, mouth agape, shoulders tense. But, he doesn’t make a move to attack even as his body stiffens and his heart beat elevates, pounding rabbit fast in Choso’s ears. 

Choso quickly removes his hand, holding them calmly in front of him so Yuuji doesn’t feel threatened. 

“You’ll get cold if you sleep like that little brother,” Choso says, listening to Yuuji’s heartbeat slow to his normal frequency. “At least take my clothes. They’re not the most warm but they’ll dry quickly."

In truth, Choso wants to do a little more than that. He wants to hold him, wants to gather Yuuji in the midst of his obi like they used to do as kids, riding out the worst of the thunderstorms in their straw topped house. Wants to press him closer and closer to his chest so that Yuuji can hear his pulse, and realize he’s safe in his older brother’s arms. That he can rely on him even though his heart no longer beats, the cursed blood running through his body unable to provide any warmth. 

The flesh underneath his hand had been ice cold, the wet skin textured with raising goosebumps. There’s nothing left of the warmth he remembers emanating when Yuuji had willingly touched him for the first time. Not good. Dangerous. Yuuji may be strong but falling sick in his current conditions would be disastrous with the infection still brewing at the side of his stomach. 

“Nothing much we can do about it. C’mon, it’s time to sleep.” Yuuji says quickly. He turns away from Choso and settles onto a thin blanket laid on the floor. It’s an ugly thing scavenged from the janitor’s closet, fake fur ate through by moths but the mattress he preferred had been caught in the initial downpour and is unavailable. Choso doesn’t know if it could ever be used again, the smell of rusted springs sharp on his tongue. 

With how diphalted and looted everything else is in the city, Choso doubts they’d be able to find anything better. 

“Yuuji..”

Without another word, Yuuji turns so that he’s facing the wall, curling into himself. They’re lucky that the wind hasn’t started yet. Usually, they sigh, howling in the dead of night, shrill as they speed by the hole in their ceiling, adding nothing but more miserable cold . 

“See you tomorrow Choso.”

It’s a clear dismissal. Choso droops under the harsh tone, unwilling to agitate Yuuji any further. 

He settles on his usual spot a few feet away, crossing his legs and leaning against the wall. 

He can feel Yuuji shivering from their proximity. It takes a few aching, difficult minutes but eventually the movements even out and Yuuji finally begins to sleep, overtaken by the exhaustion of trudging through mud and rain, constantly on guard for curses hiding in the gloom of thunderclouds. 

With nothing left to do, Choso crosses his arms and follows suit. 

~~

He wakes up to chattering teeth. The sound is so loud it overpowers the steady pound of rain, slowed to a slight drizzle during his short rest. Darkness cloaks the room, the moon hidden away by rain clouds preparing for another downpour. Unable to use his eyes, Choso follows the clattering, moving forward until he reaches Yuuji’s side.

The younger boy’s curled in a fetal position, skin pale and worryingly cold under Choso’s hands.  He can tell by the dripping behind him that his clothes haven’t finished drying yet. He doesn’t have anything to cover Yuuji, his own yukata soaked, everything else drenched with mold and rainwater. 

“Yuuji,” he says, laying a hand on Yuuji’s clammy shoulder. He doesn’t flinch which means he’s awake.  “You’re very cold. You’re going to get sick.

Yuuji grumbles something intelligible. He curls even more into himself, shoulders popping as he wraps his arm around his legs. Choso feels the flex of muscle, the shivering of his adipose tissue, the narrowed blood vessel pumping frozen blood throughout his body. 

“I’m fine.” Yuuji finally says. He cranes his head to face Choso, eyes half asleep before he drops to the floor, chin pressed against the cold concrete. 

“Don’t need. Don’t need..” 

Yuuji’s voice is broken off by another bout of clattering. He doesn’t make a move to shake off Choso’s hands rubbing at his shoulder and rolling down his back, trying to force the muscles to work through the cold. 

“You won’t be able to heal from your injuries if you keep at this.”

“I’m fine.” Yuuji repeats again, this time with an edge to his voice that Choso hasn’t heard since their first time meeting each other in the bottom floors of Shibuya station. Before he can say anything else, a violent shiver overtakes Yuuji’s body. A whimper half escapes his lips before they clamp close, unwilling to let any signs of weakness escape. 

What a stubborn little brother. 

Choso thinks for a bit, continues to pet Yuuji’s back in long, winding strokes while the rain resumes, beating violently onto the floor . A distant memory resurfaces from weeks passed. There’s frantic frenzy in his body, piercing blood begging to be released from his fingertips. He’s rushing past rubble, mind a muddled mess of corpses and kin, running to the large aggregation of vile cursed energy mere meters away. There, finally skidding to a stop, he sees Yuuji drenched in blood standing between his friends and Noristoshi Kamo. Blood spills from his head in droves, dying his hair a sickening black red. Yet still, his hands are held out, blocking his companions from Kamo, maniac glint in his eyes telling of nothing but animal instinct to keep his companions safe. It gives him an idea. 

“I’m cold,” Choso lies, laying his lips near Yuuji’s ear so he sounds soft and vulnerable. Heat emanates from his head, the rest of his body cold. It’s the sign of a coming fever and his worry deepens.  “Will you help me? Please, Yuuji.” 

There’s no movement. No biting rejection. Only the distant gaze of Yuuji’s half open eyes steeled to the corner of the room where the walls join. 

Choso takes the resounding silence as consent.

There’s a sort of steady anticipation thrumming in Choso’s blood as he quickly undoes his obi and shucks off his wet yukata, leaving him clad only in his white inner lining. He feels naked, the thin layer of clothing revealing his ankles and elbows, so thin he can feel every goosebump forming on Yuuji’s skin as he siddles behind him, pressing his front into Yuuji’s back and entangling their legs. 

Yuuji says nothing as Choso moves him, gently prodding him onto his side so he can slide an arm under his head. A jolt of warm breath hits his forearm when Choso presses closer, aligning himself against every curve of his brother’s body, back to chest, hips to hip. He splays one hand over Yuuji’s scar torn stomach, earning him a surprised grunt and pushes them even closer still. Still, Yuuji doesn’t resist, limbs locked, letting himself be maneuvered like a frozen doll. 

Choso is a cursed spirit. His heart no longer beats. Although his body holds a pulse, it doesn’t arise from his missing heart. It’s simply the cursed blood running through his veins, pooling around his body where he can send out his blood in piercing spears. 

Thus, he can’t generate heat. But feel? Yes, he can feel. 

“Thank you Yuuji,” Choso whispers into Yuuji’s neck, watching the little hairs stand up from his breath. “I feel very warm now. But, if it’s alright with you, would you let me stay here a little longer?”

He’s not expecting an answer so the lack of a response doesn’t faze him. 

As the second passes by, Yuuji’s trembling and clattering slows to slight tremors. Yuuji’s back is a burning furnace against his chest, enveloping him in warmth that’s tangible and physical unlike the sunlight. He draws in a sharp breath when the younger moves, unconsciously pressing his body closer in search of warmth. The fluttery heat spreads from every point of contact, their entangled legs, the press of Yuuji’s bony rear against his hips, the small breaths puffing from Yuuji’s lips, eventually slowed to a steady rhythm as the boy’s fighting will dies out and he succumbs to sleep. 

The concrete ground beneath them is still cold. Choso shifts a bit, gently maneuvers Yuuji’s body so he’s half sprawled over Choso’s body and half laid on the ground. 

Being wrapped around his brother like this. 

It feels... It feels good.

Better than good. 

Without realizing it, Choso realizes that his hand’s made its way up Yuuji’s torso, moving over healed scars and hard muscles, before splaying across his chest where the beat thrums strongest. His flesh feels overloaded, ramped to the max, a good kind of shiver that slithers under his skin and makes him conscious of every miniscule movement- from Yuuji’s rising chest to his twitching fingers. The feeling’s so intense that he almost wants to flinch away, but the drawl of Yuuji’s breath and heartbeat keeps him chained. 

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Yuuji’s heart beats strong in his ears. 

The whole event feels surreal, dream like. For weeks he’d longed for his brother’s touch. It almost feels like he’s taking advantage, stealing Yuuji’s heat and boxing in the boy too dazed from the cold and clearly not in his right mind to object to his touch even if it’s for his own good. He waits for the intense feeling to abate. It never does, circling his body and electrifying his senses every time he breathes in Yuuji’s earthy scent. 

How funny, Choso thinks, pressing his chin onto the top of Yuuji’s head. The wind picks up behind them, starting their regular banshee like howling. Yuuji’s pounding heartbeat is louder still, and eventually it's all Choso can hear, his own personal lullaby lulling him to sleep. 

 For the first time since they met, Choso finds himself wishing morning would never come.

~~~

Choso wakes up to morning sun. 

The light overloads him as he blinks sleep from his eyes. He’s sprawled on his back, feeling energized, skin itchy from the blazing heat. There’s the distant sound of dripping water. The drain perhaps? Water dripping over what’s left of the ceiling? The space next to him is empty; Yuuji must’ve already gotten up. 

To his right, he hears the sound of shoes shuffling against cement. Choso cranes his neck and watches Yuuji trudge into his line of sight. 

The sun had done wonders on drying out his clothes. Choso guesses that it’d only been a few hours since they’d fallen asleep. Then, the clothes had been soaking, dripping onto the floor and sagging the clothes rack with their weight. Now they billow around Yuuji, dry and free in the morning breeze. 

As Choso pushes himself up, Yuuji yanks open the refrigerator door, ruffling inside for provisions. The usual dim humming doesn't start. The electrical blackout must have finally reached their area. 

Yuuji emerges from the fridge, a bottle of chilled water in his hand. He untwists the cap, taking a swig then another, swallowing loudly as he drains the bottle. When he finishes, he glances over the area and suddenly locks eyes with Choso. In one swift motion, he caps the bottle and throws it back into the fridge. 

“Hey.” Yuuji says, slamming the door closed. The entire fridge creaks from the force, groaning like something’s been broken. 

“Good morning Yuuji,” Choso replies cautiously, tilting his head. He notices that one side of his hairstyle is sagging, come undone from sleeping on his side.  The tugging on his head is uncomfortable, but even more uncomfortable is the harsh hollow sensation in his stomach, worry building up at Yuuji’s clipped responses and movements. 

“Come on. We slept in. The sun’s been shining for hours.” 

Yuuji walks to his crumpled yukata and sash, picks them up and tosses it at him. 

Choso catches the clump of clothing, dressing himself quickly in silence, doesn’t even try to explain himself. He wonders how Yuuji must have felt, waking up in the morning with Choso’s limbs clamped around his body. Choso, who’s essentially still a stranger, the block in Yuuji’s mind clouding his memory and judgment. Had he been scared, disgusted? He can’t tell. Yuuji’s back is to him, peering out through the glare of the streets where curses have begun to roam. 

He’s in the middle of tying his sash, making sure that his yukata doesn’t trip him in battle when Yuuji speaks. 

“Hey Choso?”

Choso turns to face Yuuji. His hood is drawn up again, this time to shield against the unrelenting sun. His eyes are hidden beneath it, the hood casting long shadows down his face. 

Then he cranes his neck. The sun catches his eyes, striking them like found gold. The lightest part of his iris shimmers like the top of a crystal clear lake amidst evergreen forests and billowing clouds. 

“I appreciate it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to hold someone like that. Thanks for helping someone as stubborn as me,” he says, laughing quietly to himself like it’s an inside joke. 

Yuuji’s smile is a small delicate thing that stretches the scar on his lips. It’s familiar, calming. It’s home.  

Choso’s feels like he’s been struck by lightning. His grip is tight around his sash, halted from completing the final loop that keeps his clothes held together. 

How embarrassing that he had not realized it before. The angles of Yuuji’s shape aren’t too sharp, they’re just adjusted, more slanted, grown with the man into his teenagehold. His mouth hasn’t set differently, just that his scar has torn off his lips and made it crooked but his smile’s the same. It’s still the same Yuuji as before, his beloved little brother returned to the nest where he belongs, back under Choso’s wing and protection. 

Even as Yuuji shucks away, face hidden under the brim of his hood, his blood refuses to quell, invigorated by the memory of his little brother’s smile come to life. 

Today, he exorcises thrice as many curses as usual, blood rushing with unrestrained energy. Yuuji’s barely able to keep up, preoccupied with just rounding up curses, curses that he destroys in tandem with his piercing blood, crushing through skulls and armors and fangs that doesn’t even have enough time to roar before they’re a crumpled heat of dissipating ashes on the floor. 

Yuuji looks amazed, barely able to dispel the cursed energy cloaking his fists before he’s rushing off, sparing Choso a curious glance as he sprints past in search of more curses. 

A wild grin spreads across his face. Blood spills from his mark down his chin, whipping the air in wicked lashes as Choso charges up another shot. 

It’s good to show off once in a while. 

~~~

“We’re out of water and food,” Choso says as he closes the fridge door. The sound of it breaks Yuuji’s trance. He looks up in the process of adding another tally to the wall and tilts his head. Choso’s pleased to find that all his scars have fully healed. They would never disappear ,no, but that meant Yuuji’s body could extend more energy to the rest of his body, in particular the nasty wound on his side, glowing red with what he hopes isn’t the sign of more infection. 

Yuuji blinks. 

“I don’t think we need to. I have some granola stored in my jacket. We should be good for another couple days,” he says, rummaging around his jacket pocket. Empty plastic flies out, along with a few specks of granola. “Or maybe not.”

“I think it would be best if we stock up,” Choso says while Yuuji searches his other pocket and pulls out more empty wrappers,”in case the rain starts again. You remember how hard it was to see past the downpour? The nights arrive early these days.” 

“Alright then.”

Yuuji drops his carving stick, claps off the dirt on his hands and heaves himself up with his knees. He treads behind Choso without complaint. It’s a simple action but the trust and casual ease in which he follows Choso fills him with delight. 

He jumps down from their residence in easy, practiced steps, sleeves fluttering in the breeze. Yuuji’s only a quick step behind. They land on the streets, wary. When nothing surges out to attack them, they trot off. 

They’ve done fine work in clearing the area of curses. All that’s left are grade four curses, weak rodent sized things that don’t do much except flutter around aimlessly and fight with each other for territory. They’re plentiful like pests, not nearly worth the energy required to exorcise. 

Most of the stores have been looted, windows smashed in by curses and humans alike in search of nourishment and shelter. In the weeks that followed, electricity had been shut down as well. Neon signs that used to advertise all sorts of sales now hang colorless and cracked over their respective storefronts. The empty storefronts are filled with scattered posters, ripped in half by the ever constant rain, ink dripping to the ground. 

After twenty minutes of walking, they reach a convenience store that doesn’t look quite as ravished. The interior looks mostly clean, a lone plane of light illuminating the middle of the store. The aisles are half stocked with food, the other with daily essentials. Only one of the double set doors are busted in, glass scattered amongst the floor. 

“This looks good,” Yuuji says, heading in first. 

Choso enters the store after him, scanning inside for crouching enemies. When he senses no ill intent, he leans across the doorway and watches Yuuji do his usual praying in front of the empty cash register. He’d asked about it before, not understanding why Yuuji felt the need to give thanks for taking something clearly no one else would use. 

“It doesn’t feel right to just take whatever I want,” Yuuji had answered in one of his rare talkative moods. “ I was taught to respect every meal, because everything came from somewhere. I want to respect that even if no one else is going to be using them.” 

Yuuji claps his hand twice, bows deeply one last time. A rumble emerges from his stomach when he comes up and for a second he looks sheepish, holding his belly and looking at it like he’s been betrayed. 

Without another glance at Choso, Yuuji turns to the middle of the store and starts rummaging through the half full aisles. He sticks whatever doesn’t have signs of visible mold into the plastic bag snatched off the cashier counter: calorie sticks, beef jerky, more flavors of granola bars. 

Choso keeps watch near the door, watching out for any passerbys, humans or curse. He picks up a package that has a picture of a cow on it with exaggerated large eyes and a strange brown hat. The bag is transparent with little hard plastic pieces inside. Candy perhaps? Or maybe not even something edible? He’d made that mistake a week back when he presented Yuuji with a colorful plastic bag only for the younger to explain that what was inside was not food, but single use wet wipes. Still useful, just not edible. 

He places the package back when Yuuji emerges, filled bag flung over his shoulder. He’s chewing on something, eyes cast in deep thought. Choso sees the faint hint of something blue between his teeth. 

It’s..

“Dango,” Yuuji answers to Choso’s surprise, popping the treat out of his mouth. Four colorful balls are lined on a plastic, red stick, sticky from Yuuji’s spit. Yuuji’s working at the top ball with his molars, no doubt hard from being air dried for weeks in the store. “Do you want a bite?” 

“I’m okay Yuuji, but thank you,” Choso answers, put off by the bright artificial coloring. 

Yuuji pops the half eaten dango ball back into his mouth and shrugs. 

“It looked like you wanted to try.” 

He chews hard, swallows. Flicks his eyes to and fro. 

“Now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat,” Yuuji says, voice mystified. 

Before Choso can say anything else, Yuuji’s digging into his satchel. The sound of crinkling plastic fills the air and Choso watches, perplexed. Finally, he fishes out a small pack, the same dango he’s holding in his hand except wrapped in transparent paper with bright red markings. 

“Here. Try some. It feels bad that I’m the one eating all the time,” he says, motioning for Choso to take the colorfully wrapped treat. “Maybe you’ll like it.”

“I saved some for you big brother! I’m not hungry!” 

His breath catches in his throat.

If Yuuji had noticed the hitch, he doesn’t mention it. He waves the dango again in a sort of ‘c’mon just take it’ way in front of his face. 

If only to appease him, Choso takes the treat with shaky hands. Like usual, when his fingertips brush against Yuuji's, a slight ticklish shock travels down his finger, lighting little sparks down the column of his spine. The feeling grounds him, as does Yuuji’s careful gaze watching him unwrap the treat and bring it to his lips. 

He pops the top ball into his mouth, thinking of fresh sakura scented breezes, chewy rice flour boiled into a sugary gruel, sweet red bean slathered over the top like glazed honey. 

The taste is completely opposite to what he’d expected. 

Choso can’t help his face from scrunching up, the blast of artificial sugar and plastic shocking him out of the pleasant memory. He rolls the treat in his mouth, trying to get rid of the flavor, only succeeds in spreading it all over his mouth. The taste is overpowering, tasting both bland and sickly sweet. It’s a disgrace to anything he’s eaten in the past, and for the first time since his brothers’ death Choso’s struck by the urge to hurl. 

“Pfhht!”

Choso looks up, still gagging. Yuuji has a hand clapped over his mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. At Choso’s bewildered look, another wheeze of air escapes his hands, and his shoulders start shaking in restrained laughter. 

“I’m sorry.” Yuuji coughs into his hand, trying to steel his expression, failing miserably as his face cracks again. “ It’s just I’ve never seen you do anything but frown and glare like you hate everything around you so this-so this-all over some dango.” Another laugh escapes despite his effort and Choso frowns. 

“It’s too sweet,” Choso mutters, feeling flustered. He tactfully raises his hand to spit the tacky desert into them, dropping them into a trashcan a few feet away. He rubs his sticky hand on the counter, anything to get rid of the sticky sweet concoction still swarming his sinuses. 

“The dango I used to eat were much more mild.” Choso continues when Yuuji doesn’t even try to hide his snickering, remembering the sweet taste of dango he’d been used to, so fresh he can feel the heat from the beating mallets used to pound it into shape. “This can’t be good for your body Yuuji.”

“Alright grandpa,” Yuuji says, shaking his head, still chuckling. The bag jostles with his movement. 

“I’m not your grandpa. I’m your big brother.”

He’s astounded to find himself pouting, the edges of his mouth pulling down as he frowns at his little brother. He must look scary, but Yuuji doesn’t shy away, looking up at him with humor dancing in his eyes. The strong eye contact shocks Choso momentarily, unused to the intense scrutiny with which he used to study Yuuji. He’s the first to tear his gaze away, hiding the moment of weakness as a cough. 

Yuuji only tilts his head inquisitively, hands pressed confident into his hips. The smile does things to Choso’s head. His body feels warm and content. The disgust from before fades away, replaced by the simple joy radiating off his little brother. Even as the artificial sugar stains strong on his tongue, Choso can’t help but smile back, matching Yuuji’s expression. It feels like they’ve moved a rung up their relationship and the realization makes him giddy with glee. 

“Shall we head back home? ” Choso asks, warm and heart reeling with delight. Only notices when the words come out that he’d referred to that dilapidated office building as their house. A broken down dirty thing that Yuuji must detest with no proper heating, no flooring, always cold with drafty wind. 

“Let’s,” Yuuji replies, smiling back. 

Home. 

Their home. 

Choso reaches over Yuuji’s shoulder, takes the bag from his hand and swings it over his own shoulder. Yuuji blinks up at him then shrugs and walks through the store’s missing door. 

He continues to chew at his dango snack as they walk back, the sun finally starting to set as the streets begin to darken. Curses rumble in the coming dark, smelling foul in the air. Choso can’t bring himself to care, eyes glued to Yuuji’s figure, the chipper bounce in his steps, the way his eyes glow in the dimming rays. 

“The bag wasn't even heavy you know.” Yuuji says a minute into their walk, eating the last of the dango and tossing the stick into an overturned trash can. 

“I know,” Choso replies, still mesmerized by Yuuji’s easy smile. “Seeing you smile brings me joy. You should do it more.”

Yuuji trips over something invisible, skips ahead three steps. When his head snaps back, his face’s a light red. He scratches his chin awkwardly, eyes flickering to a tacky poster of a bikini clad woman advertising soda. 

“You sure say some embarrassing stuff sometimes.” 

“Do I?” 

Choso looks up, wondering if it was really that embarrassing to be honest. He’d always seen their family as parts of a whole. Just as he lived for his brothers, his brothers lived for him so there was never anything to hide. 

“Would you like to try? You can start by calling me big brother,” Choso says seriously, pointing at himself. 

“Maybe next time.” Yuuji rebuffs his request with ease. Despite that, he draws closer to Choso, reaching over his shoulder to snag another treat from his bag. 

~~

Like a flower after a week of rainfall, Yuuji blossoms, beautiful and vibrant in his growth and recovery.It’s like a switch has been flipped. Choso doesn't complain, doesn’t dare question the way Yuuji showers him with attention, too afraid that pointing out the drastic change would force Yuuji back to his shell. The days are joyous, so much so, nights filled with warm fires and gentle talks. 

Yuuji touches him a lot more now, which doesn’t come to him as a surprise. He remembers the way Yuuji would cling to his yukata when his little legs couldn’t make the full trek from his walk to their village. The way he’d sprawl himself over Kechizhu’s broad back, watching him build little trinkets that Choso would sell to travelers on the side of the road. Drooling on Eso’s shoulder while the older’s trying to eat their weekly ration of fried fish, already finished with his own. 

It’s just, Choso can’t seem to adapt to the touches. He begins to find himself unsatisfied by the brief touches of skin that would have set his mind ablaze days ago. It’s because they’ve been apart for so long, Choso convinces himself. 

Still, he let’s Yuuji make the advances, the skin on skin companionship as Yuuji grows closer still, now glued to his side like a loyal pet. He doesn’t stray off as far when they fight; they begin seeking out the curses side by side, Yuuji trusting Choso to not hit him with stray blood, Choso trusting Yuuji to know when to duck and when to leap.  

“How was your sleep?”

A brief touch of fingers as they go over their plans. 

“Good job today.”

A clap on his shoulder, smudged with grime. 

“Do you have any friends?”

This one he asks with a rare, teasing smile, flames and shadows dancing on his face from the fire they built in the middle of the room. The past few mornings have been hot. Still, having barely escaped winter’s grasp, the nights are cold and unforgiving. Choso had protested against the fire at first, fearing the smoke would attract unwanted guests. At Yuuji’s insistence however, he’d relented. 

They’re resting around the flames, testing each other with easy banter. Their fingers are close. If Choso were to shift, he’s sure their fingers would touch, criss cross over each other like spiderwebs. Like usual, Choso waits, lets Yuuji make the first movements. 

Stacked around the fire are soft white candies skewered onto sticks (marshmallows, he remembers Yuuji saying) caramelizing golden brown from the heat. Yuuji grabs one stick and curses, tossing the stick from hand to hand ,blowing on the heated sugar to cool the treat. 

While Yuuji’s attention is diverted, Choso sneaks a quick peek at his face, Yuuji’s eyes are lighter now, no longer as weighted and sunken as before. The events at Shibuya have aged him, clearly.

But Yuuji is recovering, color returning to his skin, infection disappearing from his blood. The deep, dark shadows lurking behind his eyes have slunk back a bit, still present but no longer overpowering. Knowing that Choso has had a part in that recovery fills him with pleasure. 

“I have my brothers,” Choso says proudly, glad to see humor dance at the edge of Yuuji’s eyes. He presses forward, if only to see that look grow. “I don’t need anyone else.” 

“Why did I expect you to say anything different?”

Yuuji laughs, leaning back on his hands to peer up at the sky. The hole in their ceiling had widened more since the last rainy season, rubble falling from the relentless barrage of wind, rain, and, when the temperature dips far enough, sleet. 

It had startled both of them when the ceiling had crumbled a few days ago, a couple tons of rock crashing into the center of the room and crushing the office chairs and desks. Luckily they’d been out, beating back a wall of curses that had popped out of nowhere.

The future weather would prove trouble. The drain’s clogged and blocked by rubble, but that rainy season won’t come again for several months. Right now, they’re living in the moment, so Choso can’t find it in himself to care. 

Choso follows Yuuji’s gaze. The sky isn’t interesting to look at. The stars he’s used to are gone, covered by a thick layer of pollutant that shields the shining lights from his gaze. He can barely see the moon if he squints, covered by the clouds as they are. 

“Friends are important too.” 

Choso turns to face Yuuji, still drawn to his wondrous exploration of the sky. Flames flicker in his sclera.

“They’re a bond you can’t replace. Like family. They just support you in different ways. I wouldn’t be where I am without the people that have helped me. There are things you tell your family that you can’t tell your friends. There are also things you tell your friends that you can’t tell your family. I’m stupid, but even I know that.” 

Something shifts in his eyes. A memory. Something bleak and intrusive. The mood shifts instantly, and Choso’s struck by the way the air suddenly cools, sharp in his lungs instead of soothing. 

Yuuji’s head falls just as the fire roars, soaring to the sky with sparks that flicker like fireflies before they sizzle out. 

“That’s why..that’s why. Sometimes if you keep them too close. They..” his voice trails off. He motions at the sky with his right hand, trying to say something that his brain cannot translate to speech. The sleeves of the t-shirt he’s wearing falls over his shoulders. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say little brother.” Choso replies, alarmed from the darkness reclaiming the expanse of Yuuji’s eyes. 

Yuuji’s silent for a bit. The fire’s dying out, but Choso doesn’t want to move, eyes trained on Yuuji’s every moment. 

Then finally.

“It’s nothing,” Yuuji turns to face him, a tired smile on his face. “ Hey, let’s sleep now. We’ve got a lot of work tomorrow morning.” He pumps his fist in mock cheer. 

Choso nods, watching Yuuji crawl to his mattress, miraculously survived from the rain, and make himself comfortable among the springs. 

The truth is, their situation is a little more bleak than Yuuji probably thinks. 

He doesn’t have the nerve to tell him that this onslaught of curses would never end. Freed from Kamo’s bind, the hundreds of years of pain, hatred, and vileness had been reborn into the physical bodies of curses. It wouldn’t end, no, not until the portal himself was dead. He doesn’t know where his father is, doesn’t want to find out. 

Choso doesn’t tell him. Would rather keep him here where it’s safe, secure under Choso’s protection where Yuuji feels he can repent for his crimes by slaughtering curses in his every waking moment. He doesn’t tell him about the other cities, no doubt demolished to rubble from the curses crawling at night while Yuuji sleeps, lacking the protection Shibuya holds. That’s why there have been less curses to fight recently, their animal instincts noticing their mights and deciding to go somewhere they can’t reach. 

It’s safer this way and as Yuuji’s breathing evens out, wicked scars glowing from the fire, Choso closes his eyes. He’d do this for an eternity if he could. It doesn’t matter how long it would take, as long as the two of them can survive and live, enjoying the new life they have been gifted. 

A small groan escapes from Yuuji’s lips. He turns, as if sensing Choso’s gaze, rolling onto his side and curling once again into himself. The tights over his legs leave little to imagination. The dark fabric, ripped near the thighs and calves, stretches over taunt muscles. Yuuji murmurs, shifts again and his hoodie comes untucked, showing the v-shape of his pelvis, skin soft and unclaimed. 

Something stirs in his stomach. There’s the desire to touch Yuuji again but this time, the feeling’s dirty and seedy, heavy in his body in a way that he can’t explain. Like with most things, Choso presses that feeling to the back of his mind. He minds the fire throughout the night, feeding it, watching the flames soar, keeps Yuuji warm under the starless sky.  

Yuuji doesn’t mention his friends again. Choso refrains from asking. 

~~~

Choso forgets Yuuji is still young. It was easy to reconcile in the beginning, when the memories would blur and the Yuujis would mix, the younger, skin untainted from experience and Sukuna’s cursed energy, the older, skin healed over with scars that disrupt the smooth continuity of his face. 

But after months and weeks of seeing Yuuji triumph against curses he used to struggle against in the past, he had slowly morphed into someone he respects on equal grounding. It’s the same as Yuuji, he thinks. The boy no longer flinches when Choso appears behind him, doesn’t hesitate when the whips of blood shoot mere centimeters from his face, breaking bones and immobilizing shins for Yuuji to take the final plunge with his fist. 

The mutual trust’s been growing, so much so that when Choso asks for an hour of free time while they’re trudging their way back home, Yuuji only meets him with a curious stare as he climbs the asymmetric concrete slabs leading back to their home. 

“What for? Need a breath of fresh air?” 

“I have to set our brothers Eso and Kezuchi’s body to rest.” Choso replies, keeping all inflection of emotion from his voice. “I was worried about you before. Shibuya isn’t safe. But now I trust you enough to take care of yourself. As long as you stay inside our place of residence, I think you will be fine” 

He doesn’t want to trouble Yuuji, knowing that the memory block was still wedged deep in his mind. His flickering hatred for Kamo, usually a smothering flame, flares to a wildfire at the look of pity in Yuuji’s eyes. It’s the look of a stranger detached from the situation, even though they are of the same blood. Kamo is a horrid man to have done this to the four of them. One day, he will meet the fate of his kin, even if Choso wouldn’t be the one to personally bring it to him. 

One day, when Yuuji remembers, he will bring the both of them to the ground where he will have buried his brothers, and the ground will sing with tears shed from siblings thrust into a war against their own blood. 

“Oh.” 

Yuuji blinks. His shoulders are tense, an awkward set to his muscles that make him look old and skittish. Choso looks up, finds himself wishing that Yuuji will ask to come along despite the pain. Maybe the sight would kickstart his memory, make him remember his past. Choso would bury Kechizu. Yuuji would bury Eso. And together they would mourn, sharing stories of the old. 

“Stay safe,” Yuuji says finally after what feels like an eternity’s time, caution heavy in his tone. He resumes climbing, pulls himself over the top floor of their home.  

“I will be back soon, little brother.” Choso isn’t disappointed because, really, that’s what he’d been expecting. 

~~~

He knows where the bodies lay. The coordinates are fresh in his mind, having never left since that fateful day when he’d felt their final transformation, the pain and horror of death engraving them as their flesh had warped and erupted. The cities fade to the rural countryside plains. Fields grow as fast as the eye can see. He runs, faster, gaining speed, everything becomes a blur until-

He reaches the bridge. 

Eso and Kechizu are there, just as he knew they would be. They’re slumped together under a wilting tree looking as if they’d died in each other’s arms. Their poison seeps from rotted skin and ripped out limbs. The smell itself is a deterrent for other curses. Stay away! Stay away and you won’t rot and decompose into nothing!

And so, most other curses have ignored the path, lumbering their way to cities where prey is lush and weak, unable to fight back and corrode their skin and flesh. Nothing’s been washed away by rain, their blood’s too strong for that, too deep in the soil. 

Tire tracks span the expanse of Kechizu’s crushed body, innards splattered amongst the dirt trail. There are holes in him, nails drilled deep into his skin where his blood leaks and drains. Eso is in a similar state. Both his arms are missing, torn from his torso. The back he so hated is displayed to the world, mouth agape toward the stormy sky. The blood arranged around his body has splashed into his signature butterfly’s wing. A final last resort perhaps, an attempt to save Kechizu. 

Cruel, so incredibly cruel. They hadn’t even the decency to lay them to rest. 

Choso believes in tears, and has always cried openly in front of his brothers. There’s no healthier outlet to frustration than tears, and as the eldest, he’s had his fair share, lumbering under the weight of his mother’s pain, the constant rapes, the constant births, the passing of his aborted siblings too weak to make the transition to the modern world. 

But today, he can’t bring himself to cry, even as the misery overcomes him and makes him sick in the head. 

Tenderly, uncaring about the state of his clothes, Choso falls to his knees. He cradles Kechizu’s corpse to his body, breathes in the scent of dirt and grass and threads their fingers together like he knows he secretly enjoyed. He kisses Eso’s back, closes the gaping eyes he’d always been ashamed of. Choso hasn’t minded. He thought his brother’s markings were beautiful, the way the black lines were inked along his tanned skin. Out of respect, however, he flips him onto his back, running his hand through Eso’s blood streaked hair. 

Choso goes through the motions of digging two holes mechanically. He’d wondered at first if another location would be more appropriate, somewhere where they hadn’t been killed. The smell of poisoned nails, enveloped in cursed energy, hang heavy in the dirt. Maybe the fields he passed would work, peaceful and clean from disruption. Kechizu had always liked the open sky. Eso had liked to tan under the sun too, despite the wicked sunburns he’d suffer afterwards. 

In the end, it's the smell of Yuuji’s essence drained deep into the dirt that concretes his decision. His brothers would want this. They would understand, would insist.  Yuuji had been tricked like they were, led to believe their kin was the enemy. It was only fair for them to finally meet Yuuji after decades apart. 

And so he digs. He digs and digs until the Earth is cool and rich, soft with rotted tree root and grass. He lets blood seep from his mark, flowing like an open dam, painting the soil and poisoning the wildlife in his last act of salvation. Nothing would be able to live here anymore, the poisonous tang of his cursed energy hangs heavy in the air. 

He sets Kezichu to rest first, closes his gaping jaw as best as he can and then Eso, set gently on the ground so his mark is covered by soil. He holds their hands one last time, threading his fingers through them, closing his eyes. Then, he climbs out of the grave, begins the mechanical action of filling the holes. 

Memories flow like golden scrolls. Here, where he can smell and see his brother’s disfigured bodies, the memories flow stronger still, images of them cuddling in the rain, dancing underneath the blossoming sakura flowers, enjoying their rare bouts of sweets. His mother’s face is a blurred mess. He doesn’t remember if she had ever held them. Even blurrier still are the memories of his father, stitches etched into his forehead like the maws of a beast. He’s the only one who remembers them, the first born that had been personally delivered by his father’s hands, pulled from the safe, warm womb to a world of sweltering poisons and pain. 

“I will be back, my little brothers. So we can relive our lives and tales through spoken tales. One day Yuuji will come as well and we shall all be one again.” He says, etching the promise deep into his heart. “We four are one, all parts of a whole.”

For now, he allows himself to grieve, knees pressed to his brothers' covered graves, soil and rock clumped underneath his fingernails. 

~~~

Yuuji’s asleep when he arrives home, curled again into the corner of his room. Despite the fact that the rainy season has passed, replaced by periods of temperate weather and easy mist, Yuuji still insists on sleeping slotted against the corner where the wind doesn’t reach and the warmth of flames cannot reach unless Choso tends to them well into the night. 

Choso thinks it’s a security thing. Something born of habit.  Or maybe, just maybe, a passing want, a need for their shared skin from the nights before, when Yuuji’s heartbeat had equalized with his own pulse and they’d slept naked, slotted together for the first time? 

He surveys the room again, taking in the room he’d started considering his home. The ceilings could hardly be called one, have broken and collapsed into themselves from their months exposed to Shibuya's ever changing weather. The fridge doesn’t work anymore. Doesn’t hum, light bulb blown out and dead. 

His gaze stops at the space next to Yuuji and realizes just then that that Yuuji has stopped tallying the walls, and hasn't done so in days. The scraped lines have crumpled into one large hole, number undecipherable through the damaged building walls. Weeks and weeks of the same routine, slaughtering curses, shared trivial talk through waning fires. Time had become meaningless to Yuuji as well. Perhaps it was the first step to Yuuji’s transformation and he will be reborn as a half curse just like the rest of them. Memories returned, Yuuji would grieve, blame himself, injure his body and throw himself into battle once more from the horror he had committed against his older brothers. 

And when that time comes, Choso will be there with open arms, nonjudgmental and wishing for nothing but his best interests. 

“Gojo sensei..gumi..Noba..” 

Unfamiliar names fill the silence of the room. Yuuji shifts, groans and sniffles something wet. Choso’s close enough to see his brother’s wrinkled brows, the miniscule shifts of his eyelids as he dreams of something no doubt horrific and painful. 

“No..run away..run” A sob. 

He sits down on the cold concrete floor, leans over Yuuji’s body. He runs his fingers through Yuuji’s hair, stroking his head in slow, pressing movements as he had done Eso’s. Dirt etches onto his forehead. Dirt from Eso and Kechizhu’s graves.

See! He wants to exclaim, your big brothers are with you. They want to protect you as I do. 

When the boy eventually stills, tension drawing out of his body, Choso too finds himself relaxed, although the usual heat of touch doesn’t make its way down his skin, disrupted by the names of unknown sorcerers. 

Yuuji is his lifeline, his final tether to the world. Without him, there would be no reason. No reason to live, to exist. His fascination with Yuuji borders on obsessive, this Choso himself knows. But with nothing else left in the world for him, Choso can’t seem to find himself to care. 

What is he without his brothers? 

~~~

Their routine continues, just with something a little extra wedged in between the hours. 

He’s too worried to leave Yuuji alone at first. Although his cursed energy is strong and capable, Choso’s been proven wrong before. But as the days pass and the curses start to dwindle, Choso begins to grow lax. He starts to visit Kechizu and Eso’s graves more often, sitting in between buried mounds as he reminisces about the past. It’s easier here, far away from the gray destruction of Shibuya. No foreign machines chug by, puffing smoke that stinks of gasoline. The river is an old thing from his period, tethered strong to Earth despite the new stone bridge built over it and it reminds him of his old home.  

Still, he makes sure not to neglect his new life with his youngest brother. 

They make travels to the convenience store every week now, even as the nonperishable goods start to spoil and Yuuji’s reduced to eating granola bars full of chocolate and nuts and raisins. Yuuji doesn’t complain, but Choso can see his displeasure in the slow way he eats, appetite suppressed by his boring options in food. 

That day, instead of visiting his brother’s graves, Choso goes hunting for meat. It’s easy enough that he wonders why he hasn’t done this earlier, arriving home with 3 large fish already gutted, cleaned, and skewered on sticks. Yuuji’s eyes light up when he sees them.

At night, he teaches Yuuji the proper way to cook meat over an open flame, teaches him the difference between charred tender flesh and brunt inedible skin. 

To Yuuji’s delight, he even manages to swallow one of the cursed dango balls. 

“See? Wasn’t that bad right?” 

“Little brother, I feel as though I’ve died the third time,” Choso says, holding his throat while Yuuji laughs and flips the fish over, salts the other side generously. The sounds draws a smile out of him, he revels in it, doesn’t tell Yuuji that yes, the dango weren’t actually that bad, and yes, he was starting to enjoy the sugary, artificial flavor.

Yuuji turns around, holding a burnt paper plate to his face. 

“Wanna see my impression of Ken Shimura?” he asks, grinning. “Oh, you probably don’t know who he is right. Well I’ll tell you he’s the greatest comedian born this century. I-”

The words drown out as Choso admires Yuuji, the animated way he motions at the air, the spark in his eyes as he makes a joke that Choso doesn’t understand. He laughs anyways because Yuuji’s looking at him earnestly and it’s precious and it sets him off on another vivid rant, this time paper plate set on his head like a helmet. 

He can’t recall the last time he’d felt this content, this happy. 

The strange feeling in his stomach grows bolder still, bubbling close to the top, threatening to overfill. Soon, Choso thinks, he would be unable to quell it. Doesn’t know what would happen when it does. Doesn’t want to risk unbalancing this shaky relationship between the two of them. 

As the last minutes of today fade away, Choso claps to the beat of Yuuji’s singing. 

~~~

He’d taken a lot longer at the graves than he had thought. As Choso rushes home, sky darkening around him, he’s crowded by a strange sort of anxiety that sends his senses tingling. Not in the good way, like when Yuuji passes by and claps him roughly on the shoulder. No, it’s the sort of anxiety that settles low in his gut, twisting and slithering like the cool belly of a snake. Nausea churns deep in his belly, threatens to spill from his mouth. 

He reaches their home in record time, slows his breathing in case Yuuji’s asleep. The curses have been plentiful this morning, so overwhelming and powerful, bursting from nowhere that Choso’d been nicked by a stray claw, so deep that his blood had splattered onto the rocks. Yuuji had been the one to pull him away from the rubble, fist beating through the curse’s side. He doesn’t know where the curses are coming from. Doesn’t know why they’re getting stronger still. 

He’d been hesitant to leave at first, but Yuuji had insisted, almost pushing him off the floor with his strength. 

“It’s been a while right? I’m all healed now, you don’t need to worry about me!” 

He crawls up the slabs to their floor slowly, gripping stone creased by their fingertips. How often had they crawled up the same path,multiple times a day. Hundreds of times? Thousands? He doesn’t know. 

When he finally reaches the top, he sees nothing but darkness. The fire usually kept running has gone out, spitting little embers that bounce across the floor to Choso’s feet. There’s barely enough light, certainly not enough to see. As Choso looks around, trying to slow his heartbeat, he hears the faintest sound of rustling sheets, some gasps, whimpers. 

There in the corner. Atop the mattress. A lump of fabric and sheets. 

Something’s moving under the fluttering blankets, little wheezes and moans that speak of something painful. A hidden wound. An attack from a curse in the dark of the night? He knows well enough that Yuuji would hide his illness, not wanting to show any signs of weakness even to his eldest brother. 

The panic drives Choso forward. It’s reminiscent of the first time his memories had been uncovered, when the realization that his little brother was there , alive and bloodied from his administrations had spilled freezing water through his veins, and he’d rushed forward, flying by faster than any time in his life to protect his last living kin from his father’s own hands. 

He crosses the room in seconds, grips the blanket between his fingers , ignoring Yuuji’s shrill gasp, and yanks . 

Time seems to stop for a second. The moon slides out from its usual clouds, dewy in the evening night. It’s just the two of them now, in this dark vacant room, golden hues clashing with gray crazed fire. 

Choso says nothing when he sees what lies beneath, letting the blanket drop in a lump on the floor. 

Yuuji stares at him, wide eyes, face ablaze. His tights are unrolled to his ankles, feet pressed into the mattress. His cock stands flush and hard between his fist, gushing pre-cum that glints between clenched fingers. 

“Choso,” Yuuji chokes out, golden iris flashing amidst the sea of red and pink.  

The whirling emotions building up inside him roars. The strange feeling building up in his stomach overflows, rushing over the sides of his metaphorical cup. It rangles up into a raging storm, throwing about his thoughts, the disjointed memories, Yuuji’s eyes, his flushing cock, wet at the tip, eating dango on their walk home, the tornado dispelling in a wind of distraughtness as he comes to a single realization. 

Ah. I see. So that’s what it was. 

Feeling like a wild animal, Choso falls to his knees, his weight sending Yuuji bouncing on the mattress. 

Yuuji dives to cover his privates, crosses his long legs over himself. His entire body flushes a rosy red, from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his feet. His breaths come out in quick, rapid puffs, eyes trained onto Choso. There’s goosebumps popping up on his skin again, from the cold? The embarrassment of his vulnerable positions? Choso doesn't know.  

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Choso says instead, moving forward. There’s something frantic in his head, twirling and swirling until his mind’s a hazy mess. “We’re family after all, aren’t we Yuuji?.” 

Yuuji looks down at him like he can’t believe his eyes. There are a million thoughts behind his eyes, racing at the same speed as Choso’s. Choso can see his mind working, trying to understand why his older brother is here, on his knees inches away from his dick. 

He pushes aside Yuuji’s hands that fruitlessly tries to hide his pelvis from view. The movement shocks Yuuji into action. His hands shoot to Choso’s wrists, squeezing in warning. He ignores it, the smell of his little brother’s sweat sultry on his tongue. 

“Hey! Wait a minute. What are you-”

Choso grips Yuuji’s cock. Yuuji goes into shock still, mouth agape, hands squeezing around Choso’s wrist. His hold is strong, Choso feels his bone creaking under the weight, threatening to splinter. The pain is sharp at first, but then it fades to a thrumming buzz, his blood congregating and thickening the strength of his marrow. 

Yuuji’s cock is blazing hot in his hand. It pulses in turn with his rabbit paced heart beat. Blood thrums under Choso’s fingertips and when he skims his fingers along a vein, it jumps, Yuuji letting out a strangled gasp that lights the fire smoldering in his loins. 

“You’ve been struggling for a while, Yuuji. I can tell.” He looms over Yuuji, towers over him. Yuuji looks back with startled eyes, eyes so wide that Choso sees himself reflected in them, crazed and drunk, hanging on to every pulse of his little brother’s body. 

He twists his wrist, stroking Yuuji’s cock up and down in quick confident movements, watching Yuuji come undone, inexperienced in shared pleasures.

“Cho-Hngh-” 

The grip around his wrist is crushing. It feels like his bones are scraping against each other, crushed into mincemeat between his brother’s fingers. Each movement sends a shock of pain up his brain. How strong Yuuji is, how commendable. 

Like a dam, the stitch in his sides snaps. He can’t control his blood anymore and the little slit as his side leaks blood, pooling and sizzling as it reaches the concrete floors. They drip centimeters from Yuuji’s feet, planted to the floor when he’d first tried to dodge from Choso’s lurching form. 

“Is this..is this really what an older brother should be doi-Ugh!!” 

Choso quickens the pace, sliding the foreskin up and over the head of his penis. He swipes a thumb over the leaking hole, pressing firmly. 

“You’re not stopping me,” Choso says, “if you don’t want this, push me back. Stop me. I know how strong you are. You can overpower me if you wanted to.” 

Yuuji lets go of his wrist, brings his hands up to cover his mouth. It’s easy then to push him onto his back, the mattress creaking as Choso climbs onto it, frantic. An idea cements itself in his head. The dirty image sends a shrill of arousal down his spine and Choso groans, collapsing onto Yuuji’s legs. 

“Yuuji. May I?”

He looks up at Yuuji and sticks out his tongue, letting it hover near Yuuji’s dripping head. He looks past his pulsing cock, gushing pre-cum onto his hands, past Yuuji’s heaving chest, covered in sweat, up to Yuuji’s face, eyes honed to the movement of his tongue like a hawk. 

“I-you.”

Yuuji’s eyes snap up from his tongue, up to his eyes, back down to his tongue. It’s not a rejection, but not a yes either, so Choso makes the decision for him. He presses his tongue against Yuuji’s frenulum, reveling in the way it twitches and Yuuji’s toes curl, let’s drool flow from his mouth and mix with the slick pre-cum covering his hand. 

When Choso looks up again, Yuuji’s eyes are closed. Sweat’s beading on his forehead, and he’s shaking his head like he can’t imagine this is happening, hands tangled in the sheets strewn over the mattress. 

“Yuuji. Look at me.” Choso commands. 

There’s no reaction. Yuuji shakes his head harder. There’s a metallic, janky sound; Yuuji’s hands have ripped through the mattress and springs are coming undone, jumping and stabbing the stained sheets.  

“Yuuji.” Choso repeats again. He lets the harshness ripple through his voice. Makes it clear that he has something to say, that he will not take no for an answer. He’s taken it this far but he can stop. He can stop if that’s what Yuuji truly wants because his existence is more important than his. 

Yuuji’s eyes snap open. 

“This is your chance Yuuji. May I? Will you accept me?” Accept us? 

“I-I” Yuuji’s eyes dart around the room. Choso follows it. They land on his discarded clothes, the refrigerator,long since broken, then finally the tallied walls, the last reminder of his days at Jujutsu High. A lump forms in his throat, bobbing as Yuuji struggles to swallow. And then, looking down. 

“Yes. Please. Please.” Yuuji whispers quietly, letting go, burying his face in his hands, voice breathy and soft. 

It’s all the confirmation Choso needs. 

He forgos the timid licking, because Yuuji deserves so much more. Choso swallows Yuuji’s cock in one single gulp, craning his neck and reveling in the languid slide of it into his throat. Keeps his eyes trained on Yuuji, because this is who he’s doing it for. 

Yuuji chokes above him, hands clapped over his mouth. Lets out a keening cry as Choso bobs faster and faster, sealing his lips around Yuuji’s cock. 

I’ll always be there for you Yuuji. 

He can’t say it, mouth stuffed full of Yuuji’s cock. So, he tries to show it with his eyes, with his actions. He digs his fingers deep into Yuuji’s waist, heaves Yuuji’s right leg over his shoulder so he can get even closer, watching Yuuji moan and twitch, biting into his lips so hard they bleed. 

Yuuji enters his throat over and over again, each glide easier than the last. It feels like his entire mouth and throat is coated in Yuuji’s pre. He’s gushing so much, the slightly salty, slightly bitter tang is all Choso can taste. 

It doesn’t take very long, inexperienced as Yuuji is. Soon, Yuuji’s thighs are tensing, muscles chords hard under his palm. He’s pushing his hips up everytime Choso bobs his head down, little awkward thrusts accompanied with grunts muffled by Yuuji’s own hands. His balls are tightening, tapping against Choso’s chin as the younger chases his peak.

It’s a good thing that curses don’t breathe. 

“Choso-Chos-'' The whine sends a shock of heat down Chosos’s front. Entranced with Yuuji as he has been, he’d neglected his own member, which strains and rubs against his clothing. Each brush sends pleasure shooting down his spine. He brings down a hand to flush it out, pressing it against Yuuji’s leg. He starts rubbing himself, harshly dragging the foreskin and listening to Yuuji’s little pants, the barely controlled moans of his little brother lost to pleasure. 

Within his mouth, Yuuji’s cock begins to throb, slow at first, and then quicker, engorging with blood. The tang on Choso’s tongue takes a bitter turn, and Choso accepts it eagerly, sucking hard, swirling his lips around the head. 

“I’m c-”

Choso jams a finger against Yuuji’s perineum, digging deep deep deep. 

Yuuji’s entire body freezes, muscles spasming. There’s no sound as he comes, sperm shooting down Choso’s throat and into his stomach, thighs hard and tight around his head. Only the throbbing , miniscule twitches dance over Yuuji’s naked body, the rest of him shocked into silence. 

Yuuji. Yuuji. Yuuji. 

The name repeats himself like a mantra in Chaos head. He sits up, letting Yuuji’s limp, saliva coated dick slip out of his mouth. He’s still working at his cock with quick harsh jerks of his wrist as he stands over Yuuji, looming over him, breathing hard and panting when he sees Yuuji’s blissed out expression, the red covering his face, the watery sheen over his eyes, the red bitten lips covered with blood. His legs are open and flushed, all his vulnerable parts open to Choso’s taking. 

Yuuji. 

Choso comes with Yuuji’s honey glazed eyes in his head. He has just enough reason to clamp his hands over his dick, not wanting to soil his little brother in seed. 

The cloud in his mind doesn’t leave. It grows hazy, spreading over his limbs and slowing him down. It feels like exhaustion, except adrenaline's still pumping in his body. His arms move, aches to do something. At the same time he wants to sleep, curled against his little brother, breathe in his smell and taste the sweat dripping down his throat. 

Instead of divulging in his whims, Choso stands up, heads to the clothes rack. Hung on them, so heavy that the clothes rack sags under their weight are fabrics of all kinds. They’re all eaten through, dark from soot and fires caused by the first week when Shibuya fell apart, electrical catastrophes springing fire all over the city. 

Yuuji had been collecting them from around the city since that day they shared in the rain, where they had cuddled naked, skin pressed to skin. 

Choso grabs one of the cleaner looking towels. He wets it with some water from the fridge, sits on his knees again to wipe away the cum staining Yuuji’s skin. Yuuji, who’s unresponsive, eyes hazed over with exhaustion. By the time he’s done, Yuuji’s deep in sleep, little trills escaping from his throat as he breathes. 

When he’s all clean, Choso, overcome by exhaustion himself, sits back against the crumbling tallied walls and allows himself to sleep. 

~~~

Things have irrevocably changed between the two of them. 

Choso had thought about this while Yuuji slept, the exhaustion of orgasm entraping him in his dead slumber. It’d been easy for Choso to clean and dress him when he awoke early the next morning, rolling the tights over Yuuji’s strong thighs, dressing him back into his preferred hoodie despite the holes and fraying edges. 

This attraction to his little brother, the accumulated lust that had exploded in the frenzy of last night. It’s strange, out of the ordinary. He doesn’t know when this love had spiraled into something beyond familial understanding. He certainly doesn’t feel the same way for his other younger brothers. Even thinking about them in the same light makes him sick. 

What would Eso and Kechizu say? 

Nothing. They would say nothing. 

Yuuji doesn’t mention anything when they set out the next morning. Choso, afraid to break the brittle silence, keeps his mouth shut, keeps his eyes down, does his work as he’s always done. 

Yuuji’s cursed energy flares uncontrollably when he fights, plunging through cursed throats and heads with brutality Choso had never seen before. He has to reign in his piercing blood, terrified of hurting Yuuji who doesn’t seem to need his help anyways. By the end of the day, he’s covered with blood. When he looks up to the sky, face hellish and red, the dark sky thunders, once, twice. Rain starts to drizzle, then pelting, the blood peeling from Yuuji’s face as he continues looking up. His golden eyes seem to glow. 

Was it Sukuna’s influence? Or was this how Yuuji had always been? 

Demon King. Choso concludes with wonder. My brother is the king of demons. 

~~~

He doesn’t go to visit Eso and Kechizu anymore.

Things go back to the regular routine of the past . Gone are the light touches, the gentle banter, laughs shared over blazing fires, their weekly trips to the convenience store. Yuuji’s eyes are hard like steel and for the first time, Choso feels like he cannot penetrate them. 

What a mess I’ve made, Choso thinks sorridly, unable to sleep in his lonely corner of the room. 

Only when Yuuji sleeps does the tension fade. He reverts to his little brother of the past, easy smile and gentle eyes, breathing quietly in the room as night falls. Choso doesn’t dare touch him anymore, no longer dares to press his thumb over the scars. He’s ruined him enough, made him retreat back into this shell, possibly never to withdraw again.

It’s the older brother’s job to make mistakes. Where he succeeds, the rest of his brother will follow. Where he falters in his step, his brothers will stop and go their own separate paths so they don’t meet Choso’s own fate. But what can he do, when the mistake he’s made is the same one plaguing his youngest brother? 

When he rolls his head again, doubt rattling a storm inside his head, his head catches on a deep groove in the walls. He feels out the hole, runs his fingers over the mark of tallies that Yuuji had stopped counting out weeks before. He touches the carvings reverently, carefully, feeling the attentive way Yuuji had carved each solid piece, begging, praying for his friend’s safe recovery, for a life back to normalcy. 

He lets some of his blood seep out from his fingertips, sharp at the edges, pointed at the edge like a spear. Without another thought he adds another tally to the wall Yuuji had abandoned, a clean, perfect mark. Blood pools at the bottom of the indent, then overflowing, drips down the wall. 

What made him decide to do that? Well. He doesn’t really know himself. 

~~~

There’s something different in the air today. 

Choso can feel it. The electricity in the air, the tension between the two of them. For what feels like once in forever, they’re on similar wavelengths. Where he ends, it seems like Yuuji starts. The buzz fuels his blood as he fights, downing curse after curse. 

His attacks are growing more frantic. Instead of his usual formation, he brings his blood out in the shape of a whip, taking on the offensive as he strikes down curse after curse, whipping them down from the air, snapping off their limbs. Yuuji’s the same. There’s a bloodthirsty glint in his eyes as he moves forward, pulverizing flesh and cracking armor. It feels like Yuuji’s a part of his body, like the piercing blood Choso himself shoots forward, a blur of red in the wind as he jumps from body to body. 

The energy doesn't leave as the sun starts to descend. It buzzes across his skin, turns his features alight. 

Yuuji is antsy too, wearing a mark into the office with his pacing. He keeps walking to the empty fridge, opening it, closing it, back to pacing around the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. 

Choso pretends he’s unaffected, sitting cross legged against the wall. He can’t stop the restless bounce of his legs, the steady tap tap tap of bone against drywall. 

He looks up when Yuuji stops pacing, feels his pulse speed up.  Yuuji’s looking at the tallied walls, eyes wide, looking at the place where Choso had carved a perfect line, the mark standing out from the bright splash of Choso’s blood. Yuuji pivots on his heel, breath catching, eyes seeking, imploring, body trembling with something raring to be released. 

 Choso moves almost like he’s a puppet on strings, opening his arms to Yuuji. 

“Come here.” he says, heart in his throat.

And Yuuji does. 

~~~~

“Ah- Choso.” 

Choso licks a stripe up Yuuji’s torso,tracing the hard planes of his abs, skin criss-crossed with new and fading scars. He notes every twitch and sigh when he traces over a particularly sensitive part of Yuuji’s skin, tasting the salt of sweat, maps it for future reference. Don’t rush, don’t rush. Take your time and fully map out your brother’s skin. Let him bathe in the pleasure. 

When he reaches his chest, Yuuji inhales sharply. He fists Choso’s hair just as Choso takes his left nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue heavy and slick until the nub hardens. He pinches the right nipple with his free hand, gently rolling it between his fingers. Yuuji’s fingers tighten in his hair, threatening to rip them out from their roots. 

He likes it then, Choso thinks, flicking the nipple with the tip of his tongue. 

Teasingly he nips the bud in his mouth, is rewarded with a sharp spike of pain as Yuuji’s next tug violently wretches his head to the side. 

“Ah, sorry,” Yuuji says, breathing rapidly, “ my bad.” He wets his lips, moves his hand from Choso’s hair to his yukata, gripping the fabric so hard Choso thinks they’ll tear. 

Instead of answering, Choso moves up, lets his yukata fall open and drag against Yuuji’s nipples in feather soft touches. The movement earns him a stuttering groan. This one Choso swallows, slotting his mouth against Yuuji’s saliva slick lips and drinking in the warm, breathy noises that escape as Yuuji cautiously presses their tongues together, let’s his little brother prod and explore and take what he wants as fire builds smoldering hot in his stomach.  Yuuji’s hands are wrapped around his neck now, fingertips pressing harshly into his skin. Their drool mixes and overflow, dripping out their lips and down their chins. It’s a messy, dirty thing. 

There’s no need to rush, no need to hurry. Yuuji’s pliant and willing in his hands, no longer slipping through his hands like sand.

His tongue is long, Choso notes in surprise as he draws back to give Yuuji space to breathe. He bites down gently on the intruding muscle that follows, canines digging in and stretches it out even more until Yuuji’s teary eyes snap open, staring curiously at him. He murmurs something, words muffled with his tongue still in Choso’s mouth. 

“You’re weird.” Yuuji says when he finally lets go, swiping back the bangs wet on his forehead. There’s saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. Although his tone’s annoyed, Yuuji doesn’t try to move away, only pulls Choso closer as they kiss again, tongues sliding languid and slow. 

“Am I now?” Choso breathes across his skin, surprised to find he’s the one panting hardest. 

Between them, Yuuji’s cock is hot and solid, drooling messily into Choso’s yukata. He’d been quick to kick off his pants and underwear as they stumbled onto bed. Choso had been just as quick to find the organ, had already pumped it to orgasm once, Yuuji moaning long and watery as he shot ropes of white across his stomach. 

The memory makes his shiver.

Yuuji’s hands shoot out and palms his pelvis, pressing into the heat that had been growing since Yuuji had first crawled into his lap.

Choso groans, shifts and lifts his hips to give Yuuji better access. Stares at Yuuji’s flushed, concentrating face as he his fumbling fingers undo his odi, slips underneath the layers and layers he donned. Why did he wear so many layers? And finally, he grazes the tip of his cock, growing bolder, wrapping around the length. A grunt rumbles out of his throat. Yuuji’s fingers are warm and nimble, pumping him as he’s drawn out of his undergarments. 

“You’re so eager Yuuji.” Choso moans, breathless despite his lack of a heart. 

Yuuji says nothing instead, pumping him once, then faster, the slick sounds of movement pounding in Choso’s ears. It feels good, better than good. Choso groans, rests his chin on the soft pecs of Yuuji’s chest, right where Yuuji’s nipples stand hard and red, twitching with every fan of his breath. Cute. So cute. 

“You make me feel so good Yuuji,” Choso praises, rubbing his cheek against Yuuji’s chest, marking his scent like a cat in heat. He doesn’t feel embarrassed. There’s nothing to hide between brothers as close as they. “So good.”

Yuuji’s cock twitches at his words, pressing into Choso’s stomach. When Choso looks up, Yuuji’s biting his lips. The flush on his face accentuates his handsome features, the rise of his cheekbones smoothed down by sweat.

“Yuuji? Do you want me to fuck my mouth?” Choso brings out his tongue, watches with delight as Yuuji reddens at the memory. 

“Maybe next time,” he says hush and fast, nervously licking his lips. “Right now I want to try something different.” 

He wraps his legs around Choso’s waist, using his foot to push Choso down until he's level with Yuuji on the floor, their pelvis pressed together, the delicious friction escaping as moans between shared breaths. 

“Inside. Please.”

His eyes shift, looking lost and shy. 

“Please put it inside... big brother.” 

The words sends a shock of electricity down his spine. A keen escapes his throat before he can stop it. He grips the base of his cock, mouthing at the junction of Yuuji’s neck in desperation. The slow swelling passions from before swells into a crescendo that roars. He feels lost in the passion , unable to control himself. 

“I can’t. I can’t. You’ll tear. I’ll hurt you Yuuji. You’ll bleed. You’re too small.”

He feels like he’s going insane, imagining Yuuji’s body fluttering hot around his cock. 

“Then prepare me.” 

Yuuji wraps his hands under his knees, spreads them, presents himself before Choso’s eyes. His face is set with the expression he usually dons before battle, his own binding pact with himself that whatever he sees in his eyes, he will get. Before, it would be the exorcism of all curses. Now, Choso imagines that it’s the press of his cock inside Yuuji’s body.  

Choso sits back on shaky knees, mind a mess of heat and pleasure. As Yuuji watches, he thrusts two fingers into his own mouth, licking them generously, coating the digits with saliva before he brings them out, left hand gripping Yuuji’s inner thigh. 

It’s not enough. The saliva dries tacky on his fingers before he even reaches Yuuji’s rim. He tries anyways, rubbing his fingers against Yuuji’s hole, feeling the way it pulses, the way Yuuji jolts and curls his toes at the unfamiliar prodding. 

“If...If that won’t work.” 

He bites his lip, muffles a groan at the image that arises dirty and filthy in his mind. 

Choso presses his pointer finger against Yuuji’s heat, pushing gently at the throbbing entrance. 

The blood seeps out of Choso’s fingers in a single thin tendril that he hones at the edges so its smooth, slick like slime. He guides it to Yuuji’s hole, lets the tip linger there, pressing ever so slightly so Yuuji can sense its presence. 

“What-what is that?” 

His knees snap together on instinct-Choso gently pries them apart, palm wrapped around Yuuji’s trembling thigh. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m just loosening you up so-” Choso explains, stumbling over his words.

So Yuuji can fully take in his cock. 

“I’m sorry if it’s cold,” Choso says, not finishing his sentence. His mind’s jumping from thought to thought, each dirtier than the next, doesn’t know when his sentences start and end, the thought of his own blood inside Yuuji. “But you’ll warm it up for me. Won’t you Yuuji?” 

Like you always do. 

The tendril slips in before Yuuji can answer. 

“Gck-” Yuuji throws his head back, arching his neck. His hand tightens around Choso’s cock, pulling. 

“How does it feel?” Choso rasps, enraptured as he slides the blood in, disappearing and pooling inside Yuuji, not liquid no, that would be too much of a mess. But solid enough to take form so Yuuji can feel the vibrating edges of the stream pressing from the inside of his body. When Yuuji stops shaking, adjusted to the obstruction, he starts to direct the stream in and out, watching in wonder as Yuuji’s stomach clenches.

“It feels weird.Like something’s trying to-trying to enter my stomach. ” Yuuji’s breath catches. His back arches, eyelashes fluttering against his chin as Choso continues to thrust. “But..something, something feels good. There, where you’ve stopped.”

“Here?”

Choso engorges the stream, forming a bulbous sphere that drags on a rubbery groove a few inches deep in Yuuji’s insides. 

“Yeah, there. Right there.” Yuuji says, throwing back his head. Unconsciously, his legs fall open and then he's rocking back into Choso’s hand, so deep that sometimes his fingertips dip inside and he feels the clench of Yuuji’s walls clamping on his finger. His neglected cock stands straining in the air. Choso grabs it with his opposite hand, swallowing hard at how hard it is as he continues to guide the stream, this time forcing it even harder against the spot he’s found, swelling into his touch. 

His cock drools a slimy drop onto his stomach. Choso swallows with the urge to lick it up, to spread the mess over Yuuji’s abs, taste his seed again on his tongue. Instead, he quickens the flow, increases its diameter, watches as Yuuji’s rim stretches with the growth, accommodating, begging for more, for bigger. 

“Ohh-getting..getting bigger.”

Yuuji’s eyes flutter close, eyebrows creasing in concentration. The sweat that’s been beading on his head finally drips, heated from their close proximity. It’s not pain creasing Yuuj’s expression, Choso’s sure of that. Pain paints a different expression on Yuuji, one that he's familiar to. 

He wonders if Yuuji even remembers his first week under Choso’s care,so feverish from open wounds and festering infections that he’d babble incomprehensibly while Choso would wipe him down, force open his mouth so Yuuji would drink his bitter medicine. No, this is Yuuji’s face in the throes of pleasure, lost in the sensation of something he’d never felt before, something only Choso can provide with his cursed technique and body. He wonders if he can enter Yuuji’s stomach from here, flow deep inside past his esophagus, see his blood emerge from Yuuji’s mouth. His cock pounding alongside, stretching Yuuji so wide that he will gape for hours afterwards, thoroughly fucked on his big brother’s cock. 

Choso rips out the stream in one quick jerk. 

Yuuji yelps, whole body seizing up like he’s been struck by lightning. But he can’t come, because Choso’s hand is gripped hard around the throbbing base of his dick. 

“Choso you fuck,” he groans behind clenched teeth, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Choso says, not feeling sorry at all, surprised by the sudden animalistic urge to tease his little brother. He moves Yuuji’s pliant body, spreading Yuuji’s legs to look at his work. 

Yuuji’s hole is puffy and red, stretched open from taking in his blood. Taking the chance, Choso coats his digits again and guides two of his fingers in, feeling the furnace hot walls of Yuuji’s insides, which clench hard around the intrusion. He adds another, breathing hard when Yuuji’s body stiffens and then relaxes, accepting the extra width. It’s too much to bear.

Choso sits up, scrambling to take off his too hot garments. It’s a struggle not to tear the cloth, his mind heated and muddled, driven on the sole purpose of sinking into Yuuji’s body.

Yuuji’s eyes grow wide when his cock springs into the air, glistening. His eyes grow wider still as Choso spits into his hands, spreads his saliva over his throbbing dick and then he’s on his knees, Yuuji’s muscled thighs thrown over his shoulders.  

For a second there's no sound, only the beating of their hearts, synchronized as one. Yuuji's looking at him with stars at his eyes, saliva overflowing from the corner of his mouth. 

“Look at me Yuuji.” he orders, pressing himself against Yuuji’s fluttering hole, anticipation and pleasure churning in his gut, blood rushing in between his ears. “Look at me.” 

“Do it,” Yuuji says, challenging him with flushed eyes, snarling like a beast, “put it inside, big brother.” 

And then he’s pushing into Yuuji’s taunt, warm body. There’s some resistance, Yuuji’s hole tight and ungiving despite being scissored open seconds before, and Choso shushes Yuuji’s groans with a kiss, holding his cock steady as he rocks forward, pressing harder this time,drinking in the sharp hitch of breath and his own muffled groan when his head finally breaches. He breaks the kiss then, hard in his little brother’s warm, tight ass, inching forward to see every microexpression bloom across his face: pain,disbelief, wonder, pain, pleasure until he’s balls deep inside Yuuji, hips flush against his twitching thighs. 

Yuuhi has an arm thrown over his face, jacket sleeves covering everything but his nose and mouth. Little pants escape his mouth as he breathes quickly, chest heaving with effort. 

“Does it hurt?” Choso struggles to ask through the heat clouding his head, even as he starts to move, rocking in and out of Yuuji’s tense body. His whole face feels warm. The heat washes through his body in beaing pulses. 

“F-fuck..Ah that stings.” Yuuji uncovers his eyes, moans something low and seedy as he’s rocked back and forth on the mattress. 

Through it all, Yuuji’s eyes remind unwaveringly gold, unshed tears glimmering under the moonlight. 

Blots of blood drip onto Yuuji’s face. They gather, clinging to each other before breaking, rolling down the sides of his face and onto the mattress. 

It takes a second for him to realize that Yuuji’s not the one bleeding. 

“You’re bleeding again. Concentrating too hard,” Yuuji says. Yuuji reaches up, cradles his face. Choso sees, not feels the blood pouring from his stripe, the excited lashes dancing in the air as he pounds into his little brother, relishes in every spasm of muscle from the warm body squeezing his cock. “Relax. Don’t think about anything else. Don’t think about anything else besides fucking me.” 

Yuuji’s hands came off covered in black red blood. The sight sets Choso ablaze. It’s alike to his fantasy from before, the sight of Yuuji drenched in his essence. The symbol of it sings high in his throat. It shows they’re kin with each other, his blood doesn't burn Yuuji, doesn’t poison and decompose his skin. No matter what Yuuji thinks, this pure fact concretes their connection as blood brothers. 

He fucks hard into Yuuji’s willing body, punching air out of his lungs with every thrust. Yuuji sounds like he’s struggling to breathe, little wet gasps hiccuping from his throat as Choso takes and takes and takes, plunging into Yuuji’s hole, moaning every time he presses over that swelling button. His hands are gripped hard around Yuuji’s waist, sitting on the heels of his feet for more leverage to thrust into Yuuji’s body. 

“Yuuji. You’re doing good. You’re doing so good.” His hand finds Yuuji’s dripping cock and Yuuji’s eyes snap open as he starts gliding his fist, glowing molten gold as he moans fast and sharp. 

A building sensation grows in his stomach. He feels the little hairs on his skin stand up, buzzed with pleasure. Yuuji’s so tight around him clenching with the throes of oncoming orgasm, his head’s sensitive, blood roaring his head. He pushes inside Yuuji one last time, slots their opened mouths together and drinks in Yuuji’s heaving cry. Just as he reaches his peak, a sudden thought slips into his mind in a moment of clarity, abruptly rising from memories he’d suppressed to the back of his mind. 

Did either of his parents have golden eyes?

~~~ 

Later, well into the night, they lay sprawled across the floor, too disgusted by the state of the stained mattress to lay on it. Yuuji’s a lovely shade of pink, privates covered by Choso’s clothes. His limbs are light, thrumming with tired energy. 

“You know, I wasn’t angry at you or anything,” Yuuji starts, staring at the sky. His arms pillow his head from the floor. 

Choso pauses. He stops gathering Yuuji’s clothes, strewn over the floor and brown with dirt. 

“You weren’t?”

“Not really, I mean, I said yes at the end didn’t I? I was just shocked because you literally caught me with my pants down. Didn’t really know how to deal with it. I’m still a teenager. You’re like what? Over a hundred years old?” Yuuji waves his hand in question. 

“I’ve been dormant for a hundred fifty years.”

He blinks. 

“Ah...That’s a long time.” 

“Yes it was. I wasn’t lonely though. Because our brothers were there with me.”

“That’s...good.”

Choso comes to sit by his brother, leaving the clothes in clumps on the floor. He’d just pick it up once morning arrived. This time, he’s not afraid to initiate contact. Yuuji barely reacts as he presses their naked legs together, the sticky press of Yuuji’s sweat followed by the heat he’d grown to love. 

“...”

A question soars in his heart.

“Why did you stop tallying the walls?” he asks, this time streaking his fingers through Yuuji’s hair. 

Wasn’t it important to you? 

“Why did you start?” Yuuji shoots the question back at him. 

“I don’t know. It just felt right.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Yuuji says, shrugging. 

“...”

“...”

“I really want to eat some dango right now.”

Yuuji springs up, beaming wide across his face. He points at Choso with all the joy of an immature child and laughs. 

“So you DO like them! I knew it all along!” 

“Please don’t start this again little brother,” Choso says, trying to shove Yuuji back down, barely able to move him even an inch. There’s an easy grin on his lips and it makes him feel dopey, but as Yuuji looks up, eyes dancing, Choso can’t find it in himself to care. 

~~~

“You don’t truly believe Yuuji is your little brother now do you?” 

Choso opens one eye, watching a gangly mouth form across Yuuji’s cheek. A red eye follows next, dancing with something vicious and cruel even he, as a special level curse, cannot begin to imagine. Something cold settles on his shoulder, slithers like slime down his back. 

Yuuji’s brows furrow at the voice. He shakes under Choso’s yukata, hand moving vaguely up to slap at his face.

“Be quiet. Don’t wake him up,” Choso silently orders the King of Curses. He sweeps a hand through Yuuji’s sweat soaked hair, trying to soothe him. Yuuji moves toward his touch, craning his neck, murmuring. 

His actions send the cursed king cackling. 

“Big brother this, big brother that,” the curse continues, voice taunting, “Bet all you wanted was a warm hole to fuck! Maybe I should pull the brat into my domain, fuck and ruin him until he’s crying out for his ‘big brother’ to come save him!” 

Choso feels his hair prickle, body tensing in fury. His mark bleeds once more, this time with the intent to wound, blood seeping down his face and crackling like electricity in the air. There’s a growl starting in his throat. The first note of it emits animalistic and violent, gritty and harsh like sandpaper. The sound only seems to make Sukuna’s smile stretch even wider. 

“Oooh scary.” Sukuna singsongs.

His silence doesn’t seem to deter Sukuna, who’s eyes swivel around their room, looking at everything that they’d collected from the past few weeks, stuffed in every corner of the room in hopes of converting it into home. It's intrusive, uncomfortable. The disdain and amusement coloring Sukuna's gaze makes him tense with fury. 

“Let’s see how long this little fantasy of yours will last. I’m excited to see when it’ll end. See you, big brother~” 

Sukuna disappears with another chuckle, laugh echoing in the run down building, ceiling open to the night sky. 

Yuuji’s eyes snap awake then, just as Sukuna’s flit away in a blink of red. He groans, rubs harshly into his eyes and then, seeing his brother’s hovering form, blinks in confusion. 

“Choso? Did you say something?” 

He peers up. His movements are soft, comfortable. The languid way he stretches across Choso’s lap fills him with joy, the skinship he’d longed for for weeks finally within his grasp. The anger rushes out of him, unable to take shape with Yuuji’s careful face and mussed up hair. 

“Nothing’s wrong Yuuji. I was just talking to myself. You can go back to sleep.” 

Yuuji doesn’t look convinced. He purses his lips, poised like he’s about to say something. Then, all the energy seems to seep out of him and he nods as lowers his head, hand still holding onto Choso’s wrist. 

“Then go back to sleep.” 

Choso doesn’t know what the world holds for them tomorrow. He doesn’t know when the jujutsu sorcerors will start searching for them, too busy dealing with the catastrophe over all of Japan and Gojo’s sealing to bother with Sukuna’s vessel, who had been lost in the chaos of dead sorcerers and brethren, thousands of dead and missing civilians. 

Maybe they would come tomorrow, executioners set out with Yuuji’s name on their swords, hoping to be the first to present Sukuna’s beheaded body to the council dictating the jujutsu world. Jump the ranks in their respective families from Sukuna’s death, let Yuuji rot under the earth like the rest of his brothers. 

No matter. Choso would simply kill them himself. It doesn’t matter that Yuuji is strong, maybe even stronger than he. It was a big brother’s job to protect the younger. He’d forego his life before letting Yuuji face the horrors of life by himself. 

Choso falls back onto the mattress, stretching out his limbs. His hair is still undone from before and they stick to his face, covered in Yuuji’s sweat, tears, and saliva- his own blood. 

Yuuji’s a breathing warm presence near his side. Choso gathers him lovingly in his arms, rolls him onto his side so Choso can spoon him from behind, pressing Yuuji against him. It’s like the first night they shared skin, Yuuji clammy, wet and cold, Choso shocked into action from the feeling of warm skin against his own. Perhaps that had been when it started, the blossoming brotherly love that had evolved into something more. 

But this time, Yuuji only sighs and snuggles back, trapping Choso with his strong thighs and arms. Choso’s chest bursts like a bird set free. 

“Shall we visit Eso And Kechizu tomorrow?” he whispers into Yuuji’s soft hair, closing his eyes. He kisses a column down Yuuji’s neck, rests his forehead against the junction where neck meets shoulder, where the pulse thrums loudest. Sleep finds him easily tonight and he falls asleep dreaming of warmer days.