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Megumi’s come to the conclusion that finger retrieval missions are useless. More often than not, they’re operating on weeks-old rumors, which is a tell-tale sign that the lead isn’t worth pursuing.
As if a curse would wait to snatch up something as coveted as a finger of the King of Curses. As if the body count from an artifact that powerful wouldn’t push it to the top of the priority list.
So, it’s with no amount of enthusiasm (and more weariness than he feels around Gojo—which is notable given his adoptive father is nothing if not exhausting) that Megumi walks up to the abandoned building he’s been dispatched to search with Itadori and Kugisaki.
Kugisaki sighs. “Let’s just get this over with.” She removes her hammer from her belt and points to the building. “Itadori and I will handle the first floor, Fushiguro, you take upstairs.”
“Why am I by myself?”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s half the size of the ground floor, and Itadori’s the fastest.” She sighs again, and waves her hand. “If you’re so worried about being lonely, you can summon your dog.”
Itadori perks up at that. “Oh! Fushiguro, can I say hello to him before we split up, then?”
Megumi peeks over his shoulder.
Ijichi stands beside the sedan. He lifts his fingers to his lips.
Well, since they’ll have some time before the curtain is in effect anyways...
Kon materializes next to Megumi, tail already wagging in anticipation.
Itadori opens his arms and crouches to greet the dog. “Hey, big guy! It’s been a while.”
Kon is a formidable opponent: that much can’t be denied. But for all his strength and agility, he is still a dog. So, it’s with unrestrained glee that he barrels at Itadori.
Itadori laughs as Kon bowls him over. His hands rise to scratch the sides of Kon’s face. “Oh, such a handsome, brave boy,” he says. “You keep Fushiguro safe, okay? He’s prone to making bad decisions, and I’m the only idiot allowed in this group.”
Kugisaki rolls her eyes, but can't hide the amused smile stretching across her lips. “Okay, enough socializing, let’s get going. We all have better things to do than explore a nasty building.” She holds out a hand to Itadori, who takes it. “And Itadori, stop calling yourself an idiot.”
Itadori’s smile is an easy one. “Why? I’m a dumbass, we all know that.”
“You’re our dumbass,” is Kugisaki’s reply. “It’s different.” She scratches Kon’s head, then Itadori’s before walking towards the entrance. “Chop chop. I want to hit that sushi place before we have to go back to Tokyo Tech.”
Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose. “We really shouldn’t be spending our money like this.”
Kugisaki turns her head long enough to grin at him. “Oh, we won’t be. I stole Sensei’s credit card.” She whistles once, and Kon leaves Megumi’s side to trot after Kugisaki.
Traitor.
“Let’s make this quick.”
Megumi steps over a rotted-out floorboard, and kicks over a pile of painter’s coveralls. The floor separating him from Kugisaki and Itadori is bare enough he can see the two of them in-between the floor slats. He dispels Kon and summons Nue.
Kugisaki and Itadori, unsurprisingly, did not split up, and their voices carry through the cement rooms.
They do this sometimes, where they make excuses to split up so they can speak alone. He doesn’t hold it against them—Megumi and Kugisaki had a near monopoly on the other’s time when they believed Itadori was dead, and Itadori has admitted he often feels he’s playing catch-up with them. Megumi shares meal preparation time with Itadori, so it seems only fair his best friends spend more mission time together.
Itadori’s voice echoes up the stairwell. “It’s funny,” he says, “when Gojo told me the higher ups would kill me on the spot if I refused to eat more of Sukuna’s fingers, I dunno if the idea of dying really bothered me.”
Megumi pauses.
Kugisaki says something back, but for once, she speaks too quietly for him to make it out.
“No, really, it’s fine. I didn’t have anyone left, and I was a ticking time bomb. I understood where they were coming from. And I was living on borrowed time anyways.”
“Borrowed time?” Kugisaki echoes. Her voice floats listless in the air, a far-cry from her normal forcefulness.
Silence as Itadori struggles to find the words to describe his plight. Then: “I dunno, I just—I just have this feeling it was always gonna end this way, y’know?” He pauses. “Like there’s someone else pulling the strings, and I was always gonna end up becoming Sukuna’s vessel. So, I guess it seemed like doing all this and dying so Sukuna would die with me was what I was supposed to do. But now…” his voice trails off. “I’m relieved every time we go on a retrieval mission and don’t find anything.” He laughs. “I know it’s selfish.”
Nue titters next to Megumi, who holds out a hand for the bird to rub its face against. Like all his shikigami, Nue’s attached to Itadori.
He’d had to dispel Nue when sorcerers came to collect Itadori’s corpse. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear Nue's desperate screech upon the sorcerers' approach, see the fan of orange feathers shielding Itadori's bloodied body from view, feel the crackle of electricity that saturated the air. In its desperation to protect Itadori, Nue almost electrocuted poor Ijichi.
Nue’s grief had surprised him: from the bird’s perspective, Itadori had been a threat just moments before.
When he asked Gojo about it, Gojo sighed, pat his shoulder, and said, “shikigami might be their own beings, but their emotions are tethered to those of their summoner.”
So, it comes as no surprise that Nue is so attached to Itadori, and no surprise that Nue is so distressed by Itadori’s disregard for his own life—not when Megumi’s stomach turns at the thought of it.
“That’s stupid,” Kugisaki says, confident and correct, as she often is.
“It’s not stupid,” Itadori replies. “Kugisaki, all those people that died to curses that awoke when I ate Sukuna’s finger? That’s my fault. Every time I don’t eat one of those, more people die.”
“That’s stupid,” Kugisaki repeats. “Sukuna’s actions and those curse’s actions aren’t your own.”
Nue flies to the other end of the room. The motion steals Megumi's attention from the conversation happening below his feet.
There.
Across the way is a storage closet. If a finger is anywhere (which, again, is unlikely given the lack of any curse higher than a grade three—or any curses at all, really. Have they seen a single curse? There has to be one for the curtain to remain intact), it’s there.
“But they’re my responsibility,” Itadori says. “I ate the finger. I awoke Sukuna and his power.”
Nue lifts Megumi and drops him gently across the room.
Kugisaki groans. “You’re impossible, you know that? How were you supposed to know what eating the finger would do?”
The white paint flakes off the wood cabinet, and coats the floorboards in a layer of artificial dandruff. Megumi pulls on the handle.
“I didn’t care,” Itadori blurts out.
The door pops open.
“That’s what I mean,” Itadori says. “I didn’t care about the consequences.”
Kugisaki doesn't have a reply for that one.
“I just felt this emptiness in me,” Itadori says. “I thought maybe it was because I don’t remember either of my parents but—it was more than that, wasn’t it? I couldn’t bring myself to make friends and said it was because my grandpa was really sick, but really”—he swallows— “it was because I knew I was hollow. And I held that finger and it just felt right. Like it was already a part of me. I wanted to eat it, Kugisaki.”
Tucked behind scraps of newspaper and abandoned ceramic projects is a lacquered black box.
Itadori chuckles. “I didn’t know why at the time, but now I do.”
Megumi grabs the wooden box, and slides back the lid.
“I was meant to be Sukuna’s vessel. This wasn’t a coincidence.”
Fuck.
A mummified finger sits in the box in fine satin. The binding paper is still tightly adhered.
“Yuuji…” It’s the first time he’s heard Kugisaki use Itadori’s given name.
A metallic clang echoes through the building. Megumi closes the box, and sets it down on the ground.
“I got this,” Itadori says immediately. “Go find Fushiguro, this has to be the last curse.”
“You mean the only curse.”
On instinct, Megumi sticks his hand into his shadow and grabs the hilt of his sword. He stops.
If what he hides in his shadows are only accessible through him…
“Fushiguro, come on, Itadori found the curse. He’s just finishing up right n—oh.”
Megumi looks up at Kugisaki, who gawks at the open portal, and the box in his hands. “Please.” The word rips itself from his throat before he registers it. “Please don’t tell Itadori.”
He wouldn't let Megumi do this for him if he told him. No, Itadori's too focused on the greater good to value himself over it. But Kugisaki...
She'll understand, for Itadori. She has to.
Kugisaki pivots on her heel. “The curtain is lifting.” Indeed, the light coming in from the open windows grows brighter as the curtain lifts. “Let’s go.”
Megumi dispels Nue, and follows Kugisaki down the stairs.
They find Itadori in the room right beyond the entrance, covered in purple blood. “Any luck?”
Kugisaki flips her hair and holsters her hammer. “What a waste of time.” She turns her attention to Itadori, and scrunches her nose. “Ugh, and you’re filthy. You better go clean up quick, no way they’re letting you into Miyamoto’s looking like that.”
“Miyamoto’s is overpriced,” Megumi says. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“Miyamoto’s is great,” Kugisaki says. “Whether or not you think they’re traditional, they get the job done.” She stretches. “But we can stay on the lookout for another sushi place. Fushiguro, if I find one, I’ll bring it to you first for approval, since you're so picky.” She looks at him. “Deal?”
Her eyes bore into him. I won’t tell if you don’t.
Megumi nods. “Deal.”
Itadori smiles. “Cool.” He wipes the blood off his face with his sleeve. “We should get going, then. We don’t have forever.” He pushes open the door and steps outside.
Kugisaki glances back at Megumi. She nods.
After a moment, Megumi follows. We can’t give you forever, he thinks, but we can give you a little more time.
Sukuna’s laugh echoes from the shadows.