Cursed || Gojo Satoru x Reader

XXI. Control

POV: (Y/N)

I am a prisoner in my own body. Not a single muscle, vessel, or nerve answers to my will. Every movement Sukuna controls me with is excruciating. I feel as though my limbs are being torn, every ligament stretching and burning as he seizes power over me.

I want to scream. I want to be free of this agony, but I know that if I stop fighting, he would die. His cerulean eyes are dark and wide, emptying into a deep abyss. My soul longs to tell him to run, to flee, but my body is walking towards him.

My knees lock in an effort to keep from moving, but Sukuna's will dominates mine and I feel my bones begin to crack under the pressure of our tension. The lingering control I had over my body begins to fade alongside my vision. Shadows creep into my peripheral, until all I can see is Gojo.

Then the nightmare swallows him up. Before me, Sukuna stands. The King of the Curses. The immortal enemy of the (l/n) clan. His very identity is the reason for our existence. Every word he preaches is a sin that tarnishes our name. The ideals that he enforces keep us bound to the earth, shackled by responsibility.

It is because of him that I have suffered my entire life. If his ideals did not exist, the (l/n) clan's principles would not exist. We would not be blasphemous. I would not have been abandoned by the Jujutsu society, left to dwell in a cold corner of Japan where only the rigid frost and rugged land would raise me.

He smiles as he approaches me, gazing down as though I were a mere peasant in his presence. I am unnerved by his appearance- he looks exactly like me, but ordained with inked tattoos. His expression is one that might not be possible for me to mirror, it expresses both contempt and righteousness.

"(y/n) (l/n). You don't know who you are," a deep voice escapes his throat. He crosses his legs, sitting atop a throne marked by gnarled flesh and violet blood. A towering shrine arches over his head, elaborate like veins wrapped around a human heart, yet ominous as a distant fog that comes creeping in.

I press my hands onto the ground. The entirety of my surroundings are colored in a vivid hue. Dark, damp, and deep. My vision stretches endlessly, I know this temple was one that would never end. Standing up, I straighten my back and reply smoothly,

"And how do you know me? (y/n) (l/n) can be anyone. Which kind of person do you think I am?" I ask, and the smile vanishes from his face. He glares at me and leans back in his throne, interlacing his fingers before his face as though he were contemplating a ruthless form of my execution.

"Don't lie. You don't know your own mind, let alone your own flesh. You're insecure. You cannot stand alone. Maybe it was because of your parents, but they were right. You had potential. That boy beat you to it, and you're not hungry for more. You didn't want enough." Slowly, a spark of amusement begins to glimmer in his eyes. He crosses his legs as he adds,

"You, (y/n) (l/n), are weak. But you will also be the reason for my salvation. With you, I can destroy Jujutsu High."

I let my breath hold my lungs. My chest swells slowly, allowing oxygen to travel through every bit of my body. Strength surges through my veins, and my bones stand firm. I know what I must do.

"Perhaps you're right," I respond. I let my fingers trace through the air, feeling thin threads against my skin. "Or perhaps you're wrong. But if you know me so well, tell me, who do you think is stronger? Me, or you?"

Sukuna's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise. I cross my hands, stretching Void to the corners of the shrine that he sits beneath. The cursed energy pulls back, and the building caves in over his throne. Stone and debris tumble down and destroy his throne, but I know that he will not be sitting beneath the destruction.

"Very good," his voice calls out from behind me. I turn and see him hold a palm out before my chest. "But that might not have been good enough."

His hand turns down, and a series of attacks cut through the air. The cursed energy around my body detects each attack, letting me weave through them seamlessly. But one of them manages to tear into my right shoulder, and I wince as I feel it slice straight through.

I leap into the air and weave a katana. The slender handle drops into my hands, and I hold the grip firm. Sukuna smiles and meets me midair with a punch. I parry his attack, exerting force into my arms as I push his arms back. Our struggle lasts a brief moment before I tuck my knees to my chest and kick his stomach, before landing back on the ground.

Sukuna slides along the ground, pressing a hand out to slow his fall. His other hand is pressed against his wound, where a blooming flower of crimson has began to form beneath his white robes.

"Your efforts are worthless," he seethes. But I don't respond. Again, we meet in attack and again we land. Our bodies are in a continuous effort for control and my vision of Gojo has began to clear. With every wound I manage to inflict, I recognize that Sukuna's focus is turning away from my external body, and instead on our internal conflict.

But now, I can only pray that Gojo does what is needed to be done.

I must die, and Gojo Satoru must be the one to kill me.

Author's note: Please remember to vote if you liked this chapter! We're reaching the end soon, so I hope you liked the story thus far. Let me know in the comments what your thoughts are :) I hope to see you again soon! Also, happy (or not so happy) Shibuya Incident Day!
~H