Chapter Text
Act I: Three of swords
All of those moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.
March 2097, New Tokyo.
The light from the large neon signs contrasted sharply with the profound darkness of the night. The tall buildings vanished into the clouds and the dense, yet occasional, layer of radioactive dust. Even within an industrial district, it was impossible to ignore the constant movement of a society that never rested, constantly seeking escape among street markets and entertainment complexes where a mix of cultures intersected, indistinguishable from one another in a region that housed the discarded and dehumanized remnants of a civilization.
The moon hid in the sky, its light replaced by the constant stream of spinners that circled the city above, monitoring the barely visible and ignoring the chaos in each alley and abandoned, uninhabitable area. When Sukuna opened the door to what had once been a helipad, his gaze fell upon a large hologram of the commercial district advertising its newest product: Blessing, a hologram designed for companionship. Every phrase its lips uttered, every gesture its features showed, every gaze was directed to a yearning soul and charged with the feelings most desired by its owner, a sweet intoxication. Brilliant neon colors adorned every letter and detail, along with those green eyes that stirred longing in every thought and memory.
"They've called from the port, sir. They'll be landing in a few hours." Uraume's soft, indifferent voice echoed behind him, forcing Sukuna back to reality and ignoring the confusing emptiness in his chest.
"I'll go get him. Tell Megumi I won't be arriving today, don't say anything else to him." Uraume gave a small bow and withdrew, leaving him alone.
A gentle breeze caressed Sukuna's face, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Even though he could hear the sounds of New Tokyo's nightlife, he felt so detached from his surroundings, his body tense and his thoughts scattered. Sukuna took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden nausea and his trembling hands. He needed to focus on reaching the port and verifying the unreliable information from the foreign settlers.
Sukuna opened the door of his flying car, known as a spinner, and quickly stepped inside, turning on the dashboard and the small screen from which a hologram was projected. "Blessing, route to the New Tokyo Interstellar Spaceport. I'll drive," Sukuna commanded. At that moment, what he most desired was to hear his voice, even if it was nothing more than an exact, artificial copy of his lover's voice. "Yes, Sukuna. Deactivating autonomous driving," a muffled voice replied.
Sukuna stared straight ahead, drowning out any thoughts beneath the roar of the engine and the valves that kept the car balanced in the air, while his heart sank into uncertainty.
The high tide crashed continuously against the Okkotsu Sea Wall, intensified by the storm raging over the city. Sukuna decided to travel alone to the port, without informing his subordinates who usually accompanied him on trade with the outer colonies, only Uraume, his right hand since the beginning of Chimera Shrine.
The black spinner passed over the wall that held back the inevitable flooding of New Tokyo due to the constantly rising sea level, a wall he had helped to found just a few years prior. The New Tokyo Interstellar Spaceport was located a few kilometers outside the region's boundaries, a unique area as the main transit hub between Earth and the outer colonies, essential for imports and exports.
During the journey, his mind drifted to Megumi. Even though no one else knew his current whereabouts, he longed to gather the information he needed after the meeting with one of the colony governors on Mars. This meeting was more than it seemed—a pivotal moment. He realized this after the emergency call that summoned him to the port, a strategic location that prevented the disclosure of information and underscored the urgency.
Sukuna flew over the endless sea, responding smoothly to the code required to enter the guarded area. He glimpsed in the distance the illuminated spotlights indicating the runway where he was to land. He glanced at the instrument panel, calculating the necessary distance to reduce speed. With a single movement and the flick of a lever, he initiated the entry protocol.
As the visibility afforded by the flashing runaway lights was limited, he couldn't tell if the car he'd been told would be landing from Mars was already at the port. Skillfully, the spinner gradually lowered its altitude until it finally touched down, allowing Sukuna a better view of his surroundings. He knew he'd be notified as soon as they arrived, but he couldn't stop his gaze from scanning every detail, finally settling on the tiny raindrops tapping against the vehicle's windows.
He lost track of the passing minutes, time merging into an interwoven blanket that triggered different lines of thought, momentarily obscuring his memories. His fingers drummed on his lap, sinking into the darkness after he'd switched off the engine, realizing the limited usefulness of every light on the dashboard and the flashing headlights in the area. They weren't coming, he thought, it was on purpose. He'd known for some time, thanks to his informants, that they were looking for ways to force him to sign an agreement where his androids would be more than just companions.
They wanted servants, efficient labor, warriors even stronger than the soldiers they trained; beings unaffected by the effects of radiation. It was a far cry from his purpose; his androids were meant to preserve human memories in a universe where every life was a brief, fleeting instant. That was what he had promised his blessing so many years ago. Each prototype was created with meticulous care, designed for the lonely souls abandoned on a decaying Earth.
A blinding white light flooded his vision, energy returning to his body. They had arrived.
Sukuna pulled a lever and pressed his palm against the door, sliding it upwards as his boots landed on the heavy metal of the port. Ignoring the rainy breeze that soaked him, he stopped beside his spinner, cautiously observing the newcomers. His brow furrowed when he saw a tall, white-haired man exit the vehicle accompanied by a guard. It was very strange that Satoru Gojo was back on Earth, knowing that he was one of the few people with no trace of the radioactive dust tattooed on his DNA. He could hear his heart pounding impatiently in his ears.
Sukuna felt the drops trickle down his neck, through his clothes, and drip onto the metal. He ignored the slight sting on his skin from letting the contaminated water touch him; during his childhood, he had been exposed to far greater quantities of toxic waste. He smiled mockingly as he observed the umbrella and dark glasses in the other man's hands as he approached with a slow, calculated gait, unlike other times when he had an odd way of walking.
It was a silent confrontation. As they stood facing each other, their expression serious, looking into each other’s eyes, the only sounds being the breeze and the soft thump of Sukuna’s heart against his chest with each passing second, they waited to see who would make the first move in the polite greeting. Sukuna bit his tongue and nodded; he needed to appear cooperative if he wanted to hear the version closest to what he needed.
"Gojo, it's an honor for my brother and me that you came in person to present the results and the new contract," Sukuna said, abandoning the haughty tone he was by then used to have when speaking with people from the colonies who pretended to be completely clean, without any cognitive or physical defects from the dust. He buried those rumors deep in his mind.
Gojo remained silent for a few seconds, turning his face slightly toward the sea, watching the tide ebb and flow as it encroached upon the port area. Those moments of inactivity made Sukuna turn toward the large white vehicle, noticing the guard manning the rear, where a crew or export packages could fit. He crossed his arms, thinking that perhaps his brother would return next time.
"Sukuna, Yuuji is dead," Gojo said in a clear and sincere voice, returning his face to its original position, letting his dark glasses slip a little lower than usual on the bridge of his nose. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness, meeting the reddish eyes that stared at him in bewilderment.
Sukuna's arms and every inch of his body went limp, Gojo's words echoing in his mind over and over. The dizziness and nausea he'd ignored hit him harder, along with a sharp pain in his chest. With trembling hands, he lunged forward, grabbing Gojo by the collar of his shirt, the toxic liquid soaking through his dry, pristine clothes. Gojo held his position, gripping the umbrella tightly, saying nothing, their eyes locked as he signaled the guard to stay put with his other hand.
"You're lying. You're a bunch of hypocritical liars just looking for a weakness to force me to obey you," Sukuna said through gritted teeth, pulling him closer, their faces close, searching for any trace of mockery or derision in his eyes. He found nothing, only a hint of sadness and guilt.
"His heart failed. I sent my team to check it, but we were only able to discover his artificial heart before we stopped. You have a brilliant mind, Sukuna. We couldn't pinpoint the fault among the circuits and valves that I assume you spent years developing."
Thousands of thoughts raced through Sukuna's mind, all stemming from the same question: "Why?" Yuuji's artificial heart was Chimera Shrine's most complex and secret project, a heart capable of functioning like a completely healthy one, just as it should have if the World War Indefinite hadn't happened.
He maintained his grip on the collar of Gojo's shirt for a few seconds, until Gojo opened his lips again. "We'll reconsider the contract on the next visit, if you wish. It's time for me to go, Sukuna." His characteristic arrogant smile was nowhere to be seen; if he didn't know him, he would have thought he genuinely regretted what had happened. With just a signal from Gojo’s hand, the large spinner opened its rear section, resembling a trunk, from which a slightly whitish smoke, due to the temperature, emerged.
“Yuuji,” Sukuna whispered, finally letting go of Gojo and staggering backward before trudging toward the metal box, each step feeling more heavy than the last. He glanced sideways at the guard watching the vehicle. “Open it,” he instructed, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The tall, blond man obeyed after receiving his boss’s affirmative nod, gently pressing on the side surface. The lid slid open with a squeak that chilled Sukuna to the bone. The air rushed from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the gut, and he bit his lower lip hard.
There was something they weren’t telling him, he was sure of it.
Sukuna watched the endless rain through the large windows. Every passing second increased the pressure in his head and heart, a void that made it difficult to move and think. Behind him, on a long table, lay the body of Yuuji Itadori, one of the essential pieces in the construction of Chimera Shrine and its first androids, but above all, his younger brother.
They weren't biologically related; both had been abandoned at the orphanage in District 0 due to congenital defects caused by the radioactive dust, which made it impossible for them to escape Earth to a colony, no matter how much they longed to.
After long minutes that seemed to melt into an endless wait, Sukuna finally decided to face the consequences of what he considered his poor organization and arrogant self-confidence. He had to ignore that heaviness in his soul; he had to do it now. He had to discover the cause of the malfunction in his heart. No one but him knew the intricate system of wires and valves he had developed since the first time he discovered the cause of the bruising and discoloration on Yuuji's fingers.
His face showed no emotion, the rapid beating of his own heart a warning of how much longer he would last before collapsing from the profound pain. Sukuna gazed at his brother's face, admiring the calm that adorned it, as if it had been a natural and peaceful death, one he had expected. He gently stroked his scars, slowly tracing his index finger over his eyebrow, down his cheekbones, and lightly caressing the corner of his lips, etching each feature into his memory.
The pervasive silence in the laboratory plunged him into a sea of memories, vague conversations mingled with whispers surfacing in his mind. Yuuji was an unstoppable child at the orphanage, following Sukuna into forbidden zones when he traveled in search of new materials and electronic waste abandoned during the World Wide Indefinite. He tried to ignore Yuuji’s presence each time, warning him of the potential risks to his mind and body, even considering showing him the scars and marks all over his skin from constant exposure to radioactive dust. Though he would never admit it, it was a small comfort to have company when his actions lost meaning with each failed experiment and machine.
The weekly walks stopped after the first visible sign of Yuuji’s heart failing; his face looked exactly like the rigid body on metal. Because of his own incompetence that day, due to the lack of precision in his hands while working on repairs to ships and machinery for the outer colonies, Sukuna received multiple blows to his back. However, in the middle of the night, he mustered the willpower to pay Yuuji a visit. A sense of determination washed over him as soon as he saw Yuuji's erratic breathing and the way his lips and fingers changed color. That wasn't normal, he knew, even though he had never been suited and chosen for a formal education.
From that day on, he began searching not only for abandoned weapon parts and electronics, but also for books and information he had previously deemed unnecessary. With Megumi's arrival at the orphanage some time later, his investigation began to take shape and become more focused.
That line of thinking forced Sukuna to put his daydreams aside. Megumi. Sukuna looked up at a digital clock high on the wall, noticing that dawn was breaking. What would he do if Megumi learned the tragic news? He couldn't imagine the pain of the loss, and it was all his own fault. Sukuna had to bear the consequences; he wouldn't allow remorse to escape from that laboratory.
He couldn't resist the urge to sink into his memories, wishing he wouldn't have to return to reality and face the truth. Sukuna began to recall his conversation with Megumi the day before, who had asked him about news of Yuuji's return while showing him his latest animoid, a rabbit with vibrant red eyes that he had sworn looked just like him. He didn't see the resemblance at all, but Megumi insisted that if Yuuji were there, he would’ve agreed. Sukuna just sighed, feigning weariness even though he rejoiced in knowing that Megumi had him in mind when developing a new artificial animal. All his work, all the exposure to contaminated materials, was worth every second when he admired those green eyes that forbade him from forgetting his goal and the reason he had fought to found Chimera Shrine.
Despite having the machinery and technology to not perform the procedure by hand, there was a precious sense of privacy and intimacy in being the one who would touch his brother's cold, lifeless body. Sukuna put on his gloves and prepared to make the first cut, his trembling hands confessing years of doubt and love in this final act of repair.
On the cusp of what, according to the few books abandoned after World War Indefinite, would be dawn, Sukuna was startled by a beam of light against his eyes, making him squint and stop staring at a battered photograph with yellowed, uneven edges. He wasn't sure when his vision had blurred, a mixture of suppressed tears and dizziness from the unknown alcohol served in a rounded glass.
The annoying light was nothing more than the headlight of a spinner that belonged to the New Tokyo Police Department, or so he thought. Few people would dare approach the top of the tower occupied by Chimera Shrine. Sukuna rested his forehead against his palm, closing his eyes as he let the piece of old photographic paper fall onto the desk. With what little clarity of mind he had left, he only managed to glimpse, through the clouds, those greenish eyes that longed to see him.
Megumi.
He staggered up from the black leather armchair, a unique marvel on a planet where animals held a higher price than any other life. He walked to his office door, clumsily registering his fingerprint on the keypad and waiting impatiently for the large metal door to unlock. The hallway leading to the elevator seemed longer than usual, silent and empty, a major obstacle when all he wanted was to sink into the warmth of a magically alive body.
As soon as the elevator doors opened and Sukuna stepped inside, he leaned against the wall, his eyes lost in counting the floors to the underground parking garage, one of the few places with such careful security that one could enter and exit with little effort, a place dedicated to the constant flow of workers, merchants, and specific clients seeking personalized advice in search of the ideal product.
So, Sukuna stepped into his spinner, which, in his sober mind, he would’ve considered careless for not checking his surroundings, and commanded the AI to begin its automatic journey to his apartment hidden in District 4. If he closed his eyes and dozed off on the way, perhaps he would have enough energy to wake his lover and spend the day together, he thought, his mind reeling. That day felt like a fever dream, distant and disturbingly vivid.
Sukuna arrived at the apartment he shared with Megumi, high up in a building on the edge of District 4. After years of moving between small, secluded rooms, trying not to stand out among the other inhabitants of those abandoned buildings, restored out of a burning need to settle down and belong, they had finally managed to find a place that was reasonably quiet and removed from the rest of the population density in New Tokyo: a seemingly deserted residence, just enough to survive in the city. Having lived in the orphanage for most of their lives, where having their own place seemed like a distant dream, privacy was now a comfortable commonplace.
Even though he tried to open the front door quietly and carefully so it wouldn't creak, he knew he'd failed as soon as he heard a soft whimper from behind it. "Shit," Sukuna cursed, then mentally scolded himself when he remembered his late goal of being quiet so Megumi wouldn't question him about his lateness. He simply sighed and closed the door with his foot before kneeling down and gently stroking the back of Kuro's pointed ear, who was waiting anxiously, wagging his tail.
If only… If only this place were more than a recreation based on a diary he and Megumi found during their stay at the orphanage, dark and vaguely legible pages that narrated the life of a young couple in love living in old Tokyo. From the wooden door Sukuna managed to acquire after months of effort, sending subordinates to different parts of devastated Japan, to the wolf that stared at him with those bright, caramel-colored eyes. An artificial home.
Sukuna patted Kuro's head lightly before standing up, taking a few seconds to make sure he wouldn't fall to his knees with each step. It was starting to irritate him not feeling the precision of his own movements, instead taking unsteady steps toward the main room, the itching from exposure to radioactive fallout hours earlier upon arriving at the port still tingling. With heavy eyelids and little awareness of his actions, he removed his clothes haphazardly, leaving himself in only his underwear.
"Sweetheart," Sukuna whispered softly. Even in a hazy state of consciousness, he remembered that Megumi detested the scent clinging to his clothes due to the mixture of gases in the air; he thought it was enough to smell it every day on his way to work, he could not let it linger in his home. Sukuna found his sensitivity ironic considering their background, but perhaps it was due to the loss of his own sense of smell over the years.
He opened the covers and slipped beneath them, seeking Megumi's body heat and remaining still until his broad chest pressed against his back. "Dear…" he whispered against the sensitive skin of his neck, searching for any sign that he might wake up. Megumi continued with his eyes closed, his hair tangled against the pillow, soft sighs escaping his lips. Sukuna propped himself up on his elbow and watched his lover sleep peacefully, finally feeling an indescribable calm fill his senses.
His own breathing slowed as the minutes passed, his blinks becoming slow as he admired the man beside him. Sukuna bit his lower lip, trying to hide the silly smile that threatened to play at the corners of his mouth. In that moment, they were simply a boring couple in love, a bubble forming around them that kept out any memory of that fateful day, erasing the discomfort and constant chill that had crept into his bones.
He let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring vaguely at the dark ceiling, averting his gaze as soon as the gloom began to transform into distorted, yet familiar, silhouettes—a reflection of his soul. He pretended not to notice, feeling the overwhelming mental fog of the alcohol finally dissipate and moving closer to Megumi, doing his best not to wake him. He slipped his arm around Megumi's waist and gently pulled him to his chest, burying his nose in his hair, concentrating intently to detect even the tiniest trace of his scent, tasting on his tongue that essence of tea, even though tea was nothing more than a long-forgotten concept, remembered by few and recreated especially for him.
Each minute that ticked by on the mechanical clock high on the wall made it harder for him to stay awake, lulled by Megumi's soft breathing, his slow heartbeat, and the coolness of his body, a stark contrast to the waves of heat he felt in his own. He caressed his lover’s abdomen, massaging it delicately, slowly moving upwards towards the small mounds of fat on his chest, as if it were an instinct.
A growl of annoyance echoed in his ears a few seconds later, bringing him back to reality and causing him to close his eyes as he fought back a laugh. "Kuna, let me sleep, I beg you," Megumi murmured wearily, barely able to deliver a blow that felt more like a caress, his smooth hands resting on Sukuna's, awkwardly halting his movements and forcing him back into his initial position on his abdomen.
“Whatever you need, Blessing,” Sukuna replied with a playful smile, wondering if it would be a good idea to push his luck and tease him. Just as his fingers toyed with the elastic of Megumi's loose, silky shorts, he noticed a movement beside him, and before he knew it, he felt a breath against his neck. Sukuna let out an airy laugh, now moving his hands over Begum's waist until they caressed his lower back. “You reek, why did you drink again?”, a confused whisper interrupted their tranquil atmosphere, forcing him to stop his movements and open his eyes. He stared across the room at the bookshelf of books Megumi loved.
“We’ll talk in the morning, go back to sleep,” he murmured back instead of offering a real answer, trying to sound as casual as the lump in his throat would allow, stroking the younger man’s skin in small circles and letting his hands wander gently down.
“I love you, Sukuna,” a final whisper echoed through his heart, his mind, and the walls. A reminder his soul longed for, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in Megumi's love.
“I love you more, Blessing,” Sukuna mumbled, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.