Dionysus || Jujutsu Kaisen

III. Toxicity

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I Just Came To The Party For The Drugs
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"Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuuji, I have to exercise you." Fushiguro grit his teeth further, but kept his stance.

"I won't let you."

Hanzō's body obscured Yuuji from the half-kneeling teens vision.

Fushiguro looked up at him in confusion, he didn't know who this was, but that wouldn't stop him from knocking some common sense into him. Though, friends and family always made him so helpless...

"He isn't himself anymore." He stressed, "He isn't Yuuji anymore."

"I don't care, because..." Hanzō stumbled upon his words not knowing which ones to say, but that doesn't matter right now. Only Yuuji does.

He remembers the forever grimacing face of his grandfather and the cold room Hanzō kept himself in. He remembers Yuuji holding his hand tightly and telling him not to worry, that everything was alright whenever he cried for reasons Yuuji couldn't understand. He remembers Yuuji being so caring he couldn't help but want to do anything, everything, for him.

"Com'on, Hanzō, if you take my hand we won't get lost."

Just when did Hanzō let go of his hand? When did he become so lost?

"Because, everyone is the same, except Yuuji!" Hanzō yelled without much tone in his voice, but Fushiguro could spy the desperation in it. "That's why, even if he isn't himself anymore, I won't let you exorcise him!"

Yuuji walked closer to Hanzō with an awkward smile. He couldn't believe he forgot about him in the midst of fighting the curse. He could only be grateful that he wasn't hurt—

"Hanzō-nii... you cut yourself." Yuuji—yes, this is Yuuij—walked closer to him, his eyes staring at the forgotten gash on his cheek. Yuuji looked at Fushiguro too, "we're all pretty beaten up, we should go to the hospital."

He spoke bluntly, not understanding the tension in the air.

Hanzō smiled slightly, but didn't let go of his wariness towards the unknown black haired teen.

"Yo!" A white haired man with a striking resemblance to some anime character waved casually to a heavily injured Fushiguro. "What's the situation?"

"Gojou-sensei?"

"The higher ups wouldn't stop nagging me about the special grade object," he whined like a petulant three-year-old child that didn't get the red tricycle he wanted for christmas.

"But, man, you're roughed up." Gojou giggled, taking dozens of pictures of him, Fushiguro looked away bashfully with slight red on his face. "So where is it?"

Hanzō inched closer to Yuuji. The massive shock of Gojou's appearance and immense pressure his energy gave off only now started to give way to possible action and logic.

"Sorry, but I ate it." Yuuji raised his hand with an awkward expression on his stupid, loveable face. He couldn't help but grimace at his bluntness and prepared for the worst case scenario of Gojou attacking. Hanzō knows he won't be able to do much, or anything at all, but he won't just watch like a docile herbivore!

"Really?"

"Really."

Gojou came closer to Yuuji's face, somehow inspecting him closely with a blindfold on. Hanzō stuck closer to Yuuji, glued to his side with a hand on his. Gojou saw him and would address him later, but for now the cursed object and his vessel are more important. He looked at the markings where Sukuna's extra eyes used to be and then laughed. "Damn, it really did combine with you. Can you switch out with him?"

"But sensei—"

"Don't worry, I'm the strongest."

Hanzō would have sneered at his egotism if he wasn't able to see and feel the proof of his words in the never ending blob of energy reeking off him.

"Yeah, I can do that."

Gojou stretches at the confirmation with a smirk that could make any sane person want to punt him into the moon, not to mention a protective drug addict. He declared, "give me ten seconds."

Yuuji's head lolled to the side before the tattoos appeared again, meaning that that Sukuna person was in control. Hanzō's thoughts deviated despite him trying his best to keep a leash on them like a dutiful dog owner. It didn't work so his mind was filled with the ponderings of life. It included the following: how did the tattoos come out of nowhere? Why did Sukuna have tattoos? Did he like how they looked? Did they have some sort of purpose? Should he get tattoos? Should he ink a middle finger on his forehead to tell everyone to fuck off without speaking?

He blinks and realizes Sakuno (?) is on the floor with Gojou sitting on his back while ranting about kikufuku.

"Who gives a flying fuck about kikufuku— oh the edemame flavor is the best? Fool! Ignorance! Moron! Uncivilized swine! It's obviously maccha!" Hanzō heatedly grumbled under his breath, not minding when Fushiguro scooted away from him with an expression of 'he's crazy, don't let him near children.'

Hanzō continued his session of insulting Gojou and nine generations of his ancestors with relish. He didn't even notice when the ten seconds were over and Yuuji switched over until the white haired bastard touched his forehead and Yuuji collapsed.

"What the fuck are you doing to my brother?"

Fushiguro froze, things just became much more complicated for his consciousness.

Gojou also blinked, remembering his existence and the faint revoltingly wrong opinions on kikufuku he thought were just the wind being a stupid whore. Apparently not, because lo and behold, the stupid whore is a person, the brother of Sukuna's vessel at that. He clapped his hands at an idea to make Hanzō regret his uneducated kikufuku slander.

"Hm... no," he whined realizing it wouldn't be possible. He squinted at Hanzō, hoping he was wrong and when he saw the cursed energy slightly radiating off his skin he grinned. "Hm, yes!"

Before Hanzō could blink his eyes closed heavily and the darkness dragged him with a million cold hands, into the abyss.

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Sorry for the shit chapter, I tried but the creative juices were not cooperating with me.

This is for ohnoiamhere because I'm pretty sure they're the only one reading this lmao. Anyways thanks for the motivation!

Bye bye, mwa ~♡

Word Count 994