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starmapz · 4 months ago

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what you know - ch15: aftermath || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 25.9k.

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Your breaths come quickly as you exit the courtroom, gaze drawn to the ground to avoid the prying eyes of onlookers. Tears stream down your face as quickly as you can wipe them, leaving streaks of mascara in their place.

Trailing after Sukuna, you pause at the large wooden doors past the security check, sucking in a sharp breath. Holding it for as long as you can, you desperately attempt to wipe away streaks of makeup as you compose yourself the best that you can. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you’re barely holding it together, but you need to remind yourself of something.

Whatever state you’re in, Sukuna’s doing worse.

No matter how scared you are for Sukuna and his brothers, your friend is experiencing it tenfold.

With a shaky breath, you swallow the lump in your throat, blinking away what you can of the remnants of your tears before pushing through the heavy wooden door.

The early spring air relieves only a modicum of the anxiety gripping your chest. Without the dull walls of the courthouse bearing down on you, you had expected the claustrophobia to lighten, but it only worsens when you spot Sukuna.

“That fucking bitch!” He roars, physically shaking as he pushes his hands through his hair, disheveling the strands. “FUCK!” He screams, gritting his teeth so hard it sends a jolt of pain straight to his head.

Keeling over, he lets out a shaky breath as he claws at his chest. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he explodes once more, ripping a box of cigarettes from his pocket and sending them flying across the parking lot. They collide with a van at the edge of the asphalt, falling to the ground as bent cylinders scatter across the ground.

Your heart shatters at the sight of Sukuna balling his hands into trembling fists as something between a pant and a panicked sob parts his lips. The muscles in his back rise and fall quickly, trembling just as his fists do. Finding your footing, you wipe at your tears once more as you slowly approach him from behind.

Before you can offer any comfort, he bursts once more. “What the fuck am I-?” His voice breaks as he stares into the distance, screaming out another “FUCK!” as he reaches into his pocket for whatever hits his fingers. Blinded by the pain of his anger and drowning under the weight of his anxiety, his movements become mechanical. Fingers brushing the cool metal of his lighter, he doesn’t register what he’s doing as he prepares to fling it through the air like he had so many moons ago.

A metallic gleam catches your eye as you finally find it in you to step in and stop his pained rampage. Your hand wraps delicately around his wrist seconds before he can send the lighter flying through the air.

Whipping around to face you, his eyes burn with emotion unlike anything you’ve seen in him before. White-hot fire burns and sparks behind foggy crimson irises as he turns to face you, his lip curled as if he’s ready to spew venom at whoever might touch him, but the flames sputter out when he’s faced with you. You’re not quite sure who he expected, given his lawyer has loose ends to tie and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Kaori wouldn’t care to be there for him.

But it’s you.

The one and now only constant in his life.

Confusion, uncertainty, and fear all fight for a place within the man’s hollow chest as he struggles to grapple with the weight of a decision that’s flipped his life on its head.

Failure.

It echoes deep in the recesses of his mind, serving as a reminder of everything he’s tried so desperately not to be. All these years, all the effort he’s put into making a life for him and his brothers, and he’s amounted to no more than what everyone has always seen him as. A delinquent. A failure. A man who’s spent so long trying to prove himself only to be beaten down into a husk of himself.

Your lips move, but he doesn’t hear you, stagnant as his eyes stare straight through you. Gone is the cunning history major with all his flirtations and bravado. Gone is the man who scoffs in the face of those who doubt him. The man who stands in front of you now, his pulse racing beneath the tips of your fingers, is completely and utterly unrecognizable.

If it weren’t for the defining tattoos and striking pink hair, you might even think you’d found some distant twin of the man you’d grown to love.

With another gentle squeeze of your hand to attempt to grab his attention, you say his name with more conviction. His eyes snap to you suddenly. Distant, but he hears you. He’s listening. “Don’t throw that,” you say softly, giving his arm a small tug.

Slowly, he begins to lower his arm, becoming more aware of his surroundings. It’s just you and him in the parking lot right now, though he hardly remembers getting here. Confusion riddles his mind as your words sink in and he finally pulls his arm free, holding his hand out before him to stare at his lighter.

His thumb brushes the engraving on it, leaving behind an eerie prickling feeling on the pad of his thumb. His chest heaves, jaw ajar as he struggles with air. He can only stare at the name, which was once dear to him as a reminder of the family whose surname he doesn’t share, but still belongs to. Now, it’s a reminder of everything that’s been torn away from him.

He inhales sharply, shutting his eyes as he clasps his hand around the device. Now conscious of his own decisions, he finds himself wanting to whip the lighter into the ground anew. He wants to erase every remnant of the name ‘Itadori’ from his life. He wishes his father never took her name when they got married.

“Sukuna, talk to me,” you plead, doing what you can to get his attention, but he’s trapped in his own world once more.

His breaths grow more harsh, scaling in anger until every exhale is a huff and every subsequent inhalation sounds downright painful. Unable to catch his breath, he finds himself stumbling to the edge of the stairs to cling onto the brick guardrail on either side, bracing himself on his forearms.

With three more unsuccessful attempts to call his name, you take a step forwards, placing your hand gently on his upper arm. “Kuna?”

Sukuna sucks in a breath at the sound of his brothers’ nickname, dropping his forehead onto his arm as he struggles to breathe.

Sukuna. His surname, and the name he’d chosen to go by after his father died. His father had chosen the name Ryomen for him, and he’d never been able to break that association once Jin had passed. The pain dulled with time, but that name, that part of him, remained permanently scarred. Now his chosen name stands as nothing more than a testament of what once was, too.

What’s left of him, if he does away with the damn lighter? If he does away with the silly nickname his brothers call him because both Ryomen and Sukuna are a mouthful?

It shouldn’t matter, he knows he shouldn’t let it get to him so much, but his very identity is ingrained so thoroughly into his family that he’s not so sure what he stands for anymore.

The name ‘Ryomen’ hasn’t even bothered him for a while now, but the pain of losing Jin feels like an open goddamn wound again. One in which he’s peeled the scab off so many times that there’s no blood left to spill. It only leaves behind increasingly deeper scars that don’t heal.

When Sukuna doesn’t respond again, you quell your own concern and anxiety as best as you can, wiping your silent tears once more before stepping closer. You take another deep breath as you slide your hand down from his upper arm until you find his hand. Slipping your fingers beneath his, you carefully pull the lighter out from his hands and tuck it back into his pocket given that your skirt doesn’t exactly have any.

“Please, talk to me,” you plead, unable to do anything but watch as Sukuna’s muscles tense and he pushes to his feet suddenly.

“How the fuck did she get away with this shit?” He barks suddenly as though he’s come to his senses, staring out at the parking lot. When he whips back around to face you, though, he’s as lost as he was while keeled over the railing. “Four fucking YEARS!” He roars, balling his hands into fists. “For fuck’s sake, I-” He pauses, clutching at his chest as he pants and heaves to catch his breath.

“Sukuna, plea-” you try to step in again with a hand to his shoulder, but it’s as though he barely registers your presence.

“Can’t fucking breathe, why can’t I fucking-” he cuts himself off, wrenching his hands painfully through his hair as he shrugs your hand off of shoulder. He pulls desperately at his tie, ripping it away from his neck and shoving it into his pocket. He proceeds to unbutton the top two buttons of his dress shirt, but it doesn’t help the lingering feeling of suffocation.

His chest heaves at a pace that does his lungs no favors as his hands drop from his shirt, hanging at his sides. His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy, and you can’t bear to let him choke himself in his own frustration anymore.

“Sukuna,” you breathe, stepping in front of him and taking a hold of his forearms.

Your steady grip grounds him enough that you manage to catch his gaze as he stares at you, though you don’t miss the way that something akin to pain glimmers in his eyes. “So fucking frustrating, I can’t fucking breathe-” he grumbles mindlessly as your thumbs soothe circles into his arms.

“I know,” you whisper in reply to his grumbles, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. Your arms wrap tightly around his middle as you rest your cheek on his broad chest. His heart is pounding so fast against your ear that you fear it might just escape its cage, but what’s more startling is just how shallow his breaths have become. Threatening to pull him under, his anxiety seems to be getting the better of him, even managing to dim the flames of his anger as his body trembles and gasps with each breath.

Sukuna’s arms remain frozen in the air, his gaze flitting wildly around his surroundings before finding purchase on the sight of you, clinging to him.

Tilting your head up to look at him, you run your hand up and down his spine soothingly in an attempt to ground him.

And by some miracle, it works. His arms wrap around you tightly, clinging to you as though you might slip through his fingers at any moment. With his attention now fixated on you, you adjust the speed at which your fingers trail up and down his back to match the speed of your breathing.

“Breathe with me.” With his attention now drawn to you, you begin the familiar routine that draws Sukuna back down to earth. You don’t need to instruct him when to take his breaths, knowing he can feel the rise and fall of your chest that follows the lead of your gentle hand.

Much like every other time that your presence has soothed him from a place he doesn’t know how to come down from, his body gradually stills. Air fills his lungs as his breathing slows to a reasonable pace.

Exhausted, his chin falls to the top of your head, his entire body weary as you take on more of his weight than you anticipated and nearly stumble backwards. You catch yourself just in time as he buries his face into the top of your head. Along with the warmth of his breath, you feel the heat of silent tears streaming down his face, too.

Swallowing hard, you’re grateful his suit has him in multiple layers so that he can’t feel the stains your own tears are leaving on his chest. You may owe him a trip to the dry-cleaner’s, but that’s a worry for later.

The silence bears down on you both, pressing in on every side like walls closing in on you. It seeps into the embrace you find yourself in, leaving doubt and uncertainty in its wake, but for the first time in months, it’s not because of your strained friendship. You can’t be certain that the rift is gone, but the unbearable silence is caused by something new, something you had been sure the trial would alleviate.

Fear. Your own, but even more so, Sukuna’s. It’s probably why he can’t bear the quiet, and speaks up.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to ‘em?” he mutters into the crown of your head, muffled by your hair. His voice is so quiet, so despairing, that you barely recognize his tone.

With a sniffle, you shake your head within his grip. “I don’t know, Kuna.”

His muscles tense in your hold, though you can’t be sure why.

“I failed again,” he mumbles hollowly, his fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes tightly.

Again? You’re not sure what exactly he’s referencing, but you squeeze him back regardless. “It’s not your fault,” you assure him. He may have gotten emotional multiple times throughout the trial, but any judge with a brain would recognize that he simply cares. As far as you’re concerned, Kaori manipulated every piece of the process in her favor. Surely if Sukuna appeals, he can play his cards right and get a fair trial.

You have to believe that for him, because the kids deserve better than a mother who’s never been present.

“I could’ve…” He hesitates, searching for something more that he could have done, but the fact is that as far as he sees it, his fuck-ups began years ago.

He could have been a better kid. He could have been a better friend. He could have been a better brother.

His chest heaves out a long sigh laced with frustration. “I shoulda done more.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” you scold him gently, pulling back a bit to look up at him. He stands upright enough that his weight is relieved from your shoulders, his gaze avoidant. You know he just doesn’t want you to see his reddened eyes rimmed with downright weariness. No matter how many times you’ve been there for him while he’s vulnerable, he still doesn’t want you, or anyone to perceive him as weak.

“It’s my job to look after them,” he mumbles blankly, devoid of any real emotion as he pulls back out of your grip to lean against the brick railing of the stairs once more. His chest heaves as he continues to catch his breath, but it’s steadier now, grounded in reality.

“You have to stop blaming yourself, Sukuna.”

His shoulders visibly tense. Taking a deep breath, he rolls them back and scowls deeply at the concrete beneath his feet. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but his brain isn’t seeing eye to eye with that desire. Every fault, every argument, and every regret resurfaces all at once. His jaw clamps tightly shut as he shakily inhales in an effort to push away even just one of the memories desperately gnawing at the edges of his psyche for a taste of his fear.

“What happened today isn’t your fault and I know- I know that you know that,” you keep your voice low, attempting to keep it level, but it betrays you, cracking mid-sentence.

The falter in your speech catches Sukuna’s attention and for the first time since he left the courthouse, he gets a good look at you. He’d been so lost in the narrow passageways of his mind that he hadn’t noticed that you’re barely holding it together too, only managing to keep yourself in check through sheer will.

His heart drops at the sight of the mascara that streaks down your cheeks. You’ve obviously wiped a fair bit of it away but the evidence is there.

All at once, it becomes painfully obvious that an answer he’d been seeking for the past month is staring him straight in the face.

He’s always known you love his brothers. You wear your heart on your sleeve and their love wrapped in purple and red twine on your wrist.

But he supposes if he’d ever stopped to really think about that, that maybe there’s more to that. Because you don’t love them in the way that a babysitter would. You don’t love them in the way that you would care for a friend’s siblings.

You love them like they’re your own family.

Because after months of looking after them and months of spending time with Sukuna himself, the two of you became best friends and he isn’t sure he ever really had the time to stop and notice that fact himself before driving a nail through your heart two months ago.

You loved him then, and he thinks you might love him now.

In fact, he knows you love him now.

What a terrible fucking moment for him to realize something that holds so much weight in the unsteady balance between you.

Because whether he knows or not, there’s another question left unanswered.

Why does Sukuna care so much about knowing if you still love him?

He’s not sure.

There’s an answer somewhere deep within him that he needs to bury with every other emotion if he plans on making it out the other end of this miserable week alive. It’s an answer he’s not ready to face, even if he knows, deep down.

How can he face those feelings, after all, when he did this to you? He failed Yuji. He failed Choso.

He failed you.

He attempts to take a step back, stumbling when his heel hits the brick railing. Steadying himself with his hand on the brick, he stares at the overcast sky. The sun hasn’t been visible for even a mere second the past couple of weeks, almost as though the world was warning him of his impending failure. Sukuna thinks it may as well rain, while it’s at it. Really drill it in just how much he lost. Just how miserable he deserves to be.

Failure hangs over him, the bold lettering facing him no matter which way he turns. He shuts his eyes, praying the suffocating feeling will go away, but it seems to press down heavier on him the longer he stands there. Rubbing his eyes harshly, he blinks his eyes open in time to see the front doors of the courthouse swing open to reveal Kaori and her lawyer.

“Oh, you are still here. Ryomen, I just wanted to say-”

To your shock, Sukuna seems to lock in at the sight of his step mother, his eyes darkening as he pushes off of the brick railing and stands upright. In two long strides, he places himself between you and her, much like he did in this same situation last week, only now there’s no security, and even Sukuna’s lawyer isn’t here to stop him.

Your viewing angle of the conversation isn’t ideal, but you don’t move given that you don’t particularly care to be around Kaori anyway. You know Sukuna’s just trying to keep you safe.

And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t really want to stop him either.

“I don’t give a damn what you have to say,” he growls in a voice so devoid of any warmth it sends a shiver straight down your spine. “I hope you fucking burn in hell, Kaori,” he snarls in a tone so grating that you swear it could shake the very ground you stand on.

“That’s not an appropriate way to speak to your m-”

“FUCK YOU!” He roars, pointing his finger in her direction with a fire that you still have no desire to quench. “Don’t give me any of that bullshit. You’ll be in for a rude fucking awakening when you realize your kids fucking hate you.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Mr. Cahn places himself between Kaori and Sukuna before your friend can sink his teeth into his step-mother’s throat. Unimpressed, Sukuna scoffs, but steps down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your lawyer needs to speak with you, Mr. Sukuna. She’s inside,” he explains, shaking his head in disapproval as he leads his client away from the courthouse.

Sukuna’s slicing gaze follows Kaori for a moment before he lets out a deep sigh as his anger lowers to a simmer in the pit of his stomach. His eyes are still ablaze when you finally step forward to watch Kaori discuss something with her lawyer before she casts you a glance as she gets into her car.

Turning to face him, you suck in a breath, attempting to wipe at your cheeks again, only smudging your disheveled makeup further. “You, um-” you cut yourself off as your phone starts vibrating in your coat pocket. Peeking at the screen, Kento’s name flashes back at you. “- Sorry, um-” Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to Sukuna. “I feel like you should ask her about an appeal. You deserve a fair trial.”

Sukuna blinks slowly, that familiar distant look beginning to settle in his gaze as his anger and anxiety both level themselves out. As his hands fall to his sides and weariness cradles his eyes, he nods. He may be downright exhausted with low spirits, but Kaori hasn’t put his flame out quite yet.

He’ll fight for what he loves.

Your phone begins to vibrate once more in your pocket just as Sukuna’s turning away.

“I’ll wait here,” you tell him as you hit the green button on your phone. Your friend nods as he trudges back inside. “Hello?”

“Hi. Are you alright?” Kento’s voice is tinged with worry. Even in the midst of a tense and stressful situation, you find a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah, thanks Ken. The- um- the trial just happened. Sorry, I would have mentioned I wouldn’t be there for lunch, but it was pretty last minute,” you explain, chewing on your lower lip.

“I see,” Kento hums on the other line. “You don’t sound pleased,” he adds gravely.

Your raspy voice must be all he needs to deduce what happened. “... No,” you agree, “I’m not.”

Silence permeates both sides of the line. Your eyes trail the parking lot blankly. A crow puffs its chest out at another larger crow as they both fight over morsels of some sort of food despite there being two pieces. In the end, the smaller bird takes off with both pieces of food shoved in its beak as the other bird stomps around the asphalt.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Sighing softly, you shake your head although he can’t see the movement. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Right. Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will, thanks Kento.”

He hums affirmatively before the line cuts out. Your hand falls to your side with your phone firmly clutched in your grasp. You slide it back into your coat pocket as you stare back out at the sea of cars.

Although the day’s been overcast, you’d sworn on your way here that the sun peeking through the clouds was a sign to keep your head up. Now, it just seems like the sun is taunting you.

Taunting a world that could have been.

How many times would Sukuna need to reset his entire life? To start from square one and rebuild to a point that he’s content?

To your knowledge this will be Yuji’s first time experiencing something of this degree. Will he change like Sukuna has in the past couple of months?

Or Choso?

How will Choso cope without Sukuna when he’s barely coping with Sukuna’s support?

Taking a seat on the front step, you find yourself staring down at scattered and bent cigarettes and lean down to pick them up, shoving them all into the cigarette box sitting amongst them. Just as you gather the last one, an exasperated ‘fuck’ rings out behind you.

Sukuna looks frustrated once more as his feet lead the way straight to you.

“Can you appeal?” You query.

“Yeah. She’s gonna gather more evidence to see what we can do. We’re gonna talk to Cho’s teacher too,” he growls, his annoyance really coming through as he recalls the testimony that sealed his fate. “I’m supposed to see the kids every two weeks for visitation, but…”

You tilt your head.

“I fuckin’ guarantee it’s not gonna happen.”

“You can fight it if she doesn’t,” you point out, hopeful that the visitation schedule will give both Sukuna and the boys some sort of piece of mind given that you hadn’t expected the judge to grant visitation.

“Princess…” Sukuna sighs, avoiding your gaze in defeat. “I don’t have the money to fight for custody and visitation.”

Your brows knit together as you nod. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He hums, pushing a hand through his long hair. His nose wrinkles at the feeling of gel coating the strands mixed with the sweat of his panic and anger. Attempting to shake the miserable feeling of perspiration and just plain dejection that coats his skin, he brushes his hand off on his suit jacket.

“Are you gonna be okay telling your brothers?” You query, watching his face contort in misery and discomfort.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He grumbles.

“Yeah…” you whisper, barely audible. “And Uraume?”

As though he hadn’t even considered that Uraume is still watching the kids, he sighs heavily. The weight bearing down on his shoulders presses harder than ever and for once, Sukuna wants to let it win.

He wants to fall to the ground and give in. To let the pain crush him.

He wants to let go.

Sensing the dread that Sukuna can’t shoulder on his own anymore, you take his hand, clasping your fingers like he had at lunch the other day. “Hey,” you shoot him your best reassuring smile as you step into his view. “It’s okay.”

His chest rises and falls as he stares blankly at you. His eyes are lidded, heavy with exhaustion as he regards you.

“Did you want to drop by my place to take a shower first?”

With a long inhalation, Sukuna nods. “Yeah. I think I need that,” he agrees, squeezing your hand back before pulling away to drag his hands over his face.

He lets you lead the way to your car, getting in the passengers’ seat and staring out the window. He leans so heavily to one side of the chair that you have half a mind to think he might have fallen asleep, but the moment you pull into your parking spot, he’s out and following you up to your apartment as though the distant look in his eyes isn’t ever-present.

He follows you wordlessly into your home, discarding his shoes at the door as he follows you to the washroom. His movements are painfully limp, so dead-tired that he’s running on fumes as the results of the trial catch up with him.

As you leave him to shower, he twists the tap until it won’t go any further, stripping as he waits for the water to warm up before letting the hot water sear his skin. It doesn’t rid him of the guilt that plagues him, nor does the way he scratches harshly at his chest. The reddened stripes across his skin tingle beneath the hot water. He grits his teeth at the feeling, leaning both hands against the shower wall as he lets the stream wet his hair.

It may not relieve the burdens that make his skin crawl, but at least the sweat and hair gel pool at his feet before slipping down the drain.

It’s a start.

Shutting off the tap, he hops out of the shower, drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist. With a swipe of his forearm, he rids the mirror of fog, leaning over the sink as he stares at the man before him.

If the man staring back at him from the judge’s glasses this morning was foreign to him, he doesn’t know what to describe the person in the mirror right now.

His skin is gaunt, his eyes lidded and weary as dark circles weigh them down. His overly long hair hangs down over his forehead and into his vision as he hunches over the sink. It’s the eyes, though, his eyes, that have never seemed quite as unfamiliar as they do now. They’re dull, lacking in all of the things he prides himself in.

Something wet hits his knuckle and he watches as the liquid from his hair drips down the side of his hand onto the porcelain beneath. Meeting his own gaze again, he blinks as he’s forced to drag a finger across his cheek to smear the evidence of his tears.

Strengthening his grip on your sink, he pushes upright and pulls his clothes from earlier back on, leaving only the suit jacket aside. He doesn’t bother tucking anything in, it’s not like his brothers or Uraume haven’t seen him in a worse state.

When he leaves the washroom, you’re sitting on the couch with a concentrated scowl as you nosily scan the internet for any signs of a Kaori Itadori. Your search comes up short, leaving you with no explanations for the questions that continue to plague you.

Your gaze rises as Sukuna’s languid movement catches your attention. Your lips part at the sight of his reddened eyes, but you don’t dare point it out. You inhale as you prepare to say something, but he gets to it first.

“Mind driving me?”

“Oh- um- yeah, sure.”

He only grunts in reply.

–

Given Sukuna’s detachment, you almost expected him to say no when you offered to come up to his apartment for support. Some part of his subconscious must be clinging to you like a lifeline whether he realizes it or not, because despite saying he’d be alright, he took your hand.

He didn’t even seem to question you following him up to his apartment even as he unlocked the door.

Dropping your hand, he pushes into his home, dropping his keys on the side table as six pairs of eyes all stare back at him. His blood runs cold at the sight of two puffy-cheeked little boys staring back at him with so much misplaced hope in their eyes.

The room closes in on him, stealing the breath from his lungs again. He coughs abruptly, feebly clearing his throat as he casts a glance at Uraume. Their eyes say it all, the kids have told them. They don’t even seem all that hurt, with understanding gleaming within their eyes.

He’s not sure he deserves it.

Worse still, is the way that they straighten when Sukuna doesn’t immediately speak. They know.

The silence bears down on him as he forces himself to be strong, to be what the kids need him to be.

“Hey,” he hoarsely greets the three of them, kicking his shoes off. He takes a hesitant step forward, “can you kids go to your room for a bit? I gotta talk to-”

“You lost?” Choso interrupts.

Always too smart for his own good.

His pupils shrink to mere pinpricks, his chest rising and falling in frantic breaths as he stares between you and Sukuna. This sends his little brother into a panic as well, the salmon-haired boy jumping to his feet as he lacks the maturity to understand the situation, but recognizes the tonal shift of the room.

Tears well immediately in Yuji’s eyes as he frantically tugs at his brother’s sleeve. “What’s happening?” He murmurs repeatedly, confused as Choso pulls away.

The tension rises in the room as Choso wraps his arms around his middle, shrinking into himself. Yuji erupts into tears at the lack of response from his brother, and for the first time that you’ve ever been witness to, Sukuna’s composure breaks around the kids.

His head falls, a shaky breath parting his lips as he can hardly bear to look at the brothers he feels he’s failed. His hands ball into fists at his sides, the tang of iron flooding his mouth as he bites down harshly on his lower lip. The taste grounds him, reminds him of the weight his presence holds for the two bawling kids in front of him.

The moment of broken composure is fleeting and before either you or Uraume can process the scene in front of you and react, Sukuna steps into the familiar role he’s carved in the kids’ lives pushing his emotions down. He steps forward, steeling his expression. He takes a breath to steady himself as he kneels in front of the children, pulling them each into him with one arm.

Yuji buries his face into Sukuna’s dress shirt, his loud wails muffled by the thin material. Choso’s arms wrap around Sukuna’s shoulders as the boy clings to his older brother with silent tears. Sukuna’s poor shirt has seen enough tears for a lifetime, let alone one day.

Exchanging a look with Uraume, they beckon you over to the kitchen.

Keeping your voices down, Uraume pipes in first. “How are you holding up?”

“Um-” you pause in thought, casting a glance at Sukuna. “I’ve been better,” you admit, your eyelids heavy. “I didn’t think he’d…” You trail off, as though finishing the sentence somehow makes it seem more real.

The overhead light flickers a number of times, capturing your attention as Uraume sighs heavily. “I just wish he’d let more of us know before it came to this,” they state with a grimace. “Is it just you?”

You shake your head. “Kento knows.”

Shock passes across their features. They blink a number of times, before scrutinizing you with a scowl. “Kento Nanami?”

“His friend is in the law program,” you loosely explain, though it’s enough of an explanation to make sense to Uraume. “It also made Kento want to punch him less,” you shrug, forcing a smile.

Uraume returns the smile, though they note it doesn’t meet your eyes. They cast a glance back at Sukuna and the boys before quietly evaluating your disposition. Uraume isn’t entirely unlike Kento in that way, ever observant and painfully on the nose when it comes to those they care about.

Lacking any subtlety, you attempt to wipe at the mascara that you probably should have removed when you visited your house, but Sukuna had asked to be driven home so quickly that you didn’t have time.

The main difference between Kento and Uraume?

Uraume lacks the decorum that Kento has, and can be painfully blunt. It may be what Sukuna needs, but you’ve got enough bluntness in your life from the man himself.

“You don’t look so good.”

At least they have a polite way of telling you that you look like shit.

Sighing, you lower your head into your hands. “Thanks,” you mutter.

“Go wash up,” they tilt their chin in the direction of Sukuna’s washroom. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Nodding thankfully, you slip away into the washroom. The sterile overhead lighting brings back memories of Sukuna sitting pitifully on the floor, hunched against the tub.

Your eyes linger a moment too long on the floor near the tub, the image of his desperate gasps as he clutched at his chest appearing a bit too vividly in your mind.

But maybe that’s because you only just got him back down from that very same headspace.

It’s cruel, really. To put him through so much. Ever stoic and aloof, you never could have known when you first met him just how much he really struggles. Then again, you recall a time where he wasn’t struggling nearly as much. At that moment, it strikes you that this isn’t normal for Sukuna. He’s the type of man who bottles up his emotions and shoves his problems down, but he figures them out. He has the ingenuity and resourcefulness of a man with twice his experience, while keeping the facade of mysteriousness to anyone on the outside looking in.

But within a few months, that all faded.

Everything faded, in favor of a man attempting to accomplish a herculean task alone.

The upside, you suppose, is that the task isn’t sisyphean.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you turn your attention to the mirror, turning the tap to warm water as you wipe away the remnants of mascara staining your cheeks.

No matter how battered and bruised he is, Sukuna always gets back up.

And so do you.

Satisfied with your appearance, you make your way back out of the washroom, finding Sukuna now on the couch with both boys crying into his shoulders. His eyelids are heavy as his stare hangs distantly onto the coffee table in front of him.

Uraume is in the kitchen making three mugs of tea and two mugs of what you assume is hot chocolate when you emerge into the living room. Tossing the tea bags into the trash, they set the first mug of tea on the coffee table for Sukuna, before handing one over to you, keeping the last for themself.

“Chamomile,” they state, loud enough to be heard over Yuji’s broken wails even as Sukuna attempts to calm him with hesitant shushes.

You mumble a thank you, pleased as the warm liquid soothes your raw throat.

Sukuna stares at the mug blankly as he holds the two kids, reminding himself of your words from earlier when Choso was struggling.

“He just needs you to be there for him. You don’t have to say anything.”

And what would he say, anyway? Sorry he failed again?

It’s not like he can even reassure the kid that he’ll still see them since he was granted visitation, because the reality is that he doesn’t believe Kaori will honor that. It doesn’t mean he won’t try, but he has a suspicion that Kaori will head back overseas as soon as she’s able to get the boys out of the country, leaving behind everything they know and love.

Shutting his eyes, he lets the kids bawl, lets them get it all out. Hell, he thinks he’d be crying too if he had anything left to give.

That leaves you and Uraume to do little more than watch. It’s gut-wrenching to see their family so torn up, and you get the feeling that the rest of Sukuna’s week will be equally as draining as the past twenty four hours already has been.

You frown as neither boy’s sobs die down, but right now you’re not what they need. You can’t step in and calm them down, they’re exactly where they need to be. They’re exactly where they want to be.

Sitting at the table towards the back of Sukuna’s apartment, Uraume keeps up a quiet conversation with you to keep your own mind off of the situation. It’s hardly a matter of moments before your stomach is growling, betraying the fact that you’d forgotten breakfast and at this point the sun’s nearly reaching the end of its journey across the afternoon sky.

“Why don’t we go get food?” Uraume offers, casting a glance at Sukuna and the boys. “I think he’d appreciate it,” they add in a softer tone.

With a nod, you let Uraume lead the way out to the familiar chicken joint you last visited with Sukuna months ago. After placing your orders, you take a seat at one of the booths in the back corner to wait.

“How long have you known?” Uraume queries.

Reading between the lines and assuming they’re referencing the lawsuit, you sigh. “He told me last year at Satoru’s after-finals Christmas party.” Coincidentally, that’s also the first time you were here with Sukuna.

“So he’s known for a while,” they comment, piecing together what they’ve learned throughout the day.

Nodding, you examine their features. They don’t seem hurt by the revelation that Sukuna’s kept something so big from them. Their fingers tap a number of times on the table as they contemplate something.

“Did he pay for the lawyer?”

You nod.

Rolling their eyes, they mutter “dumbass” under their breath.

Your head tilts at their reaction curiously.

“Atsuya is well-off. Very well-off. Had he asked for help, Atsuya would have had no issue paying.”

“Like he’d ask for help,” you scoff lightheartedly.

Uraume cracks a smile, sitting upright. “I suppose you have a point.”

The sounds of the diner fill the air as you continue to wait on your order. A coffee machine whirrs to life as someone takes a seat at the counter. Their foot kicks at the base of the counter, the rhythmic sound serving as a distraction from your thoughts.

“How are you faring, really?”

Your meek smile fades as you consider their words, fiddling with the receipt between your fingers. You’ve spent so long focusing on the well-being of Sukuna and the kids that you haven’t really had the opportunity to stop and consider your own emotions. The momentary pauses in the washroom between stressful events and the short-lived silence of the world at night hardly give you a chance to unwind these days.

How are you?

Chewing on your lip, you feel your resolve shattering. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t bother hiding them for once. As they slip past your lashes and down your cheeks, you shake your head in reply.

“I don’t know,” you whisper honestly, sucking in a breath as you wipe at your cheeks.

Uraume’s brow pulls together in sympathy. “You still love him, don’t you?”

Did you even tell Uraume about that, or is it that obvious?

Making a line of small rips across the top of the receipt between the tips of your fingers, you chuckle wryly. “I don’t know,” you repeat yourself, deflecting the question. Your deflection is all the answer that Uraume needs. They offer a sympathetic smile, passing a napkin across the table. “I don’t know, I feel sort of dumb if I say yes,” you admit through tears as you take the napkin from them to dab under your eyes.

“You’re not stupid for having feelings,” they shrug. “Sukuna’s a good guy-” they pause, sighing as they add “- he’s also an idiot and he pushes away everyone he cares about,” they shake their head, “but what happened between you both tells me that he cares about you a lot.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you continue to tear the receipt, a pile of small pieces of paper gathering beneath your hands.

“Look at what happened with him and Toji,” Uraume points out. “I think you know as well as I do that Sukuna feels bad, he’s just too stubborn to do anything about it.”

You nod slowly. “What about you, then? Has he ever pulled anything like that with you?”

Uraume scoffs. “He used to, all the time. I’ve known a lot of people like Sukuna though, so I think it just doesn’t affect me anymore.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you sigh, arranging the pile of shredded receipt pieces into a little fish shape. “I think it’s just hard when I’ve seen the other side of him, you know?”

“You get used to it.”

You glance up at Uraume at that, catching a hidden meaning to their words. Their eyes speak of something deeper, but you don’t push. Clearly they’re not referring to Sukuna with that statement, but whoever it is that they used to know that was similar to him.

With an understanding smile that doesn’t meet your eyes, you rest your chin on your knuckles, your elbow leaning against the table.

“For what it’s worth, I do think you’re right about Sukuna.”

Your gaze rises again and you watch as they lean back in the booth in thought.

“I don’t think he ever wanted things to get this far. With you, or Toji. Any of us. He’s a complicated person.” They raise their hand, running it through their hair. “So, no, I don’t think it’s wrong for you to still have feelings for him, even after the fight.” Running their tongue over their lower lip. “And I don’t think it’s wrong for you to miss his brothers,” they add in a softer tone. “They’re family.”

Reminded of the situation waiting for you back at Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to the fish-shaped pile of receipt shavings. Pushing your finger through it, you inhale shakily.

“I think he’s gonna appeal,” you mumble in an effort to cover up the evidence of your tears.

“That’s good,” Uraume agrees, smoothing their baggy jeans beneath the table. “I don’t know much about their step-mom, but Choso sounded pretty torn up for the past couple of hours,” they state worriedly.

“Yuji doesn’t even know her.”

Uraume grimaces. “She’ll take care of them. They’ll be okay, even while they’re gone. Sukuna will get them back.”

You nod, but salty tears won’t stop now, running down your cheeks at record pace. Between shaky breaths, you use the napkin Uraume handed you earlier to attempt to dab away the evidence of your sadness, but they just keep coming.

“Oh honey, is everything alright?”

You dab more at your tears, sniffling as you raise your head to find the sweet older waitress who served you and Sukuna months ago in the early morning hours.

“Oh, let me get you some tea.”

“No no, it’s alright!” You insist, shaking your head as you offer an unconvincing smile to the kind woman.

“I insist, on the house!”

Before you can protest, she’s running back around the counter to pour some hot water into a mug and toss in a little tea bag. She runs back over to set it back on the table.

And god that’s just too sweet and it makes you want to cry even more.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“You two take care, okay? Your order is just about ready.”

You can’t even manage another thank you as she makes her way back behind the counter and a sob wracks your body.

“I should have tipped her more,” you mumble, waiting for the tea to diffuse before taking a sip.

Uraume chuckles, pulling some cash from the wallet in their pocket. “I’ve got it.”

“Everyone is too sweet,” you laugh in return between the cries, thankful at least that the energy in the air is overall positive. Even Uraume seems confident that Sukuna’s appeal process will go well.

It’s hard to hold the same confidence when you’d been so sure that Sukuna would win in the first place and it wouldn’t get this far, but you cling to their positivity regardless.

“How are you doing so well?” You query, sniffling as you dab at your cheeks. “Aren’t you close to Yu and Cho too?”

“I am,” they confirm, “but if you’re holding Sukuna together, someone needs to hold you together, right?”

Meeting their eyes, you see the underlying sadness that no longer hides behind their kind smiles.

“Who’s gonna hold you together, then?” It comes out as a whisper, but you know they heard.

They blink quickly as tears gather along their lash line, but their control is better than your own. “I’ll be fine,” they affirm.

“You know, it would make me feel better about crying if you also cry,” you point out.

Uraume laughs, but liquid gathers in their eyes once again, spilling over their cheeks as they allow themself to indulge in the moment with you. In truth, it’s nice to have someone like Uraume here when you’re so used to holding yourself together for Sukuna’s sake.

The waitress returns a moment later with a couple of bags of food, setting them on the edge of the table for you.

“You poor sweethearts, let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Uraume thanks the waitress, wiping at their tears and nodding reassuringly at the kind lady. Once the waitress has retreated, you grab another napkin, dabbing at your cheeks again. Uraume follows suit, burying their face in it.

“If what Choso said is true, I’m worried,” Uraume admits, their strong facade faltering in favor of the vulnerability that they so easily hide. “Sukuna never told me why they ended up in his care, but I never got the impression that this would happen,” they mutter, lifting their face from the napkin as their tears dissipate.

You breathe out a sigh, nodding. “Whatever he said is probably true.”

Uraume’s lip curls downwards at the thought. “I see,” they hum, staring at the bags of takeout. They allow a moment for the air to clear of sniffles and the tension to pull back from the table as you both attempt to mentally reset before returning to Sukuna. The last thing he needs right now are his two friends crying into his meal.

As the sounds of the rumbling coffee machine and the sizzling of the grill in the back overtake your collective sniffles and sobs, Uraume pushes to their feet.

“We should all have some food,” they insist, grabbing one of the bags. “Let’s go.”

With one sharp final breath, you steel yourself as you nod and push all the shreds of receipt into your used napkin. You thank the waitress, tossing the paper out on the way to the door as you begin the walk back to the apartment.

It’s made in relative silence as both you and Uraume take the opportunity to breathe in the early spring air. It’s still cool out, the breeze ruffling your hair as you walk in tandem. Birds sing overhead, the sounds of feathers in the wind serving as a distraction as your eyes follow a small brown songbird. Some sort of finch, likely, that lands and pecks at the remains of what looks to have been a fry. Its little head tilts side to side as it contemplates the taste before flying off.

Your gaze sticks to the skyline where the bird disappears as the sun falls behind a cloud. Maybe it was always a pipe dream all along, but in your head you’d pictured a time where you would be able to take Sukuna’s little brothers to the park while Sukuna worked. Maybe you never should have envisioned that from the start. Between the stability that your friendship with Sukuna lacks and the fact that they’re his little brothers and not your own, maybe it was always too much to hope you might be able to see the two of them grin as you hand them ice cream on a warm and sunny day.

Caught up in your own little world, you hardly realize that you’ve come to a halt before Sukuna’s apartment. Uraume dials up to his unit to no reply as you exchange a glance.

“You didn’t happen to grab his keys, did you?”

Shaking your head, you reach forward to dial the number again.

Nothing.

“I’ll call him,” you offer.

The tone repeats as you await his reply, praying something hasn’t gone wrong. When he picks up seconds before his answering machine would have, you breathe out in relief.

“I fuckin’ hear you, I’m trying to get the buzzer,” he replies abruptly to your call. Between the shuffling on his end and Yuji’s muffled whines and cries, you’re barely able to make out what he said. “Just give me a- c’mon Yu, it’s alright- give me a momen-”

The call cuts out before he can even finish his sentence. Pulling the phone back from your ear, you stare at it in confusion. “Um, dial the buzzer again?”

Uraume nods, dialing up again. On the final buzz tone, the door unlatches and you head up in silence. Taking a moment to pause before the door, you both mentally reset to the best of your abilities.

It seemed Sukuna hadn’t bothered to- or been able to- lock the door as you push your way in once you’re both ready.

The scene you’re met with strikes horror through your heart like a bullet. Yuji is wailing, wrapped in a blanket on the couch as Sukuna attempts to peel Choso’s hands from his dress shirt.

“C’mon brat, I’ll be right back. I just wanna change,” Sukuna grumbles tiredly, running on fumes as irritation dances around the edge of his tone. Each time he manages to free one of Choso’s hands, he latches back onto his brother the moment Sukuna reaches for his other hand.

“You can’t leave us,” the little boy panics through tears, “don’t leave us, please don’t leave us.”

Yuji’s sobs increase in volume as you exchange a look at Uraume. Handing them the second takeout bag, they take it to the table as you make your way over to Sukuna and Choso. Uraume is behind you shortly as they attempt to soothe Yuji.

Sukuna locks eyes with you. Concern, frustration, and sadness all linger within the crimson of his irises but most of all, he looks like he just needs a moment to himself. His movements are weary with the weight of exhaustion and whatever fight he has in him to peel Choso from his shirt dwindles by the second in favor of guilt, but he just needs a moment to himself so badly.

“Hey, Choso,” you gently greet him. The little boy eyes you through tears, his grip on Sukuna remaining firm. He doesn’t answer, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he refuses to let go of his older brother. “Why don’t you come get some food?” You encourage with a sympathetic smile.

“‘M not hungry,” he murmurs, his voice small as he tugs on Sukuna’s shirt in an attempt to get the man to sit.

“Cho, c’mon-” Sukuna gruffs, although he doesn’t want to yank himself from his brother lest he make things worse than they already are.

Which is saying a lot, because he’s pretty sure this is about the worst things have ever been.

So to think that this might not be rock bottom is something he doesn’t want to consider.

“Maybe you aren’t, but I bet your brother is,” you offer, casting a glance at Sukuna. “Come hang out with Uraume and I for a bit, okay? Kuna’s not going anywhere.”

“He’s leaving us,” Choso mutters, eyes wide with fear.

Kneeling down to his height, you offer your best smile. “You’ve got time with Kuna still, sweetheart,” you reassure him. “And you know what he told me?”

Glancing between you both, Choso’s fingers loosen their grip a minute amount as he whispers “what?” between shaky breaths.

“He told me he’s gonna fight to get you back.”

Choso whirls back around to Sukuna, searching for a response. He can’t afford to hesitate to reassure his brother, even if he has his doubts that he’ll ever get a free trial. With that in mind, he nods curtly.

With Sukuna’s response, Choso’s grip relents just an inch more. “And you know what else, honey?”

Choso turns back to stare at you.

“He’s got my help, and Uraume’s.” You point a thumb back to Uraume who’s soothed Yuji’s sobs into sniffles and small gasps.

Choso stares past you to Sukuna’s friend, his grip relaxing enough that Sukuna could back away if he chose, but he stays in place. The last thing the poor kid needs is to feel as though it’s Sukuna who’s pulling away, when the tattooed man is the only constant that still remains in Choso’s life.

Jin’s gone, Kaori’s gone, only to return like a fly they can’t get rid of, Toji’s gone, their house has changed, their financials have changed. Even you had been gone for a month, though the kids don’t need to know that.

Sukuna is the one thing that’s always been the same. You don’t doubt the fact that he’s likely all Choso feels like he can cling to for some sort of sense of normalcy.

“Come have some food,” you encourage with a smile. “We got some chicken and fries for you both,” you coax, offering your hand out to him.

With a final glance up at Sukuna, Choso takes your hand and lets you pull him to the kitchen table. Yuji and Uraume are shortly behind you as you unpack the food.

Sukuna lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, slipping into his room for a reprieve.

When he emerges, he feels ages better, as though the suit and slacks had some sort of negative air, something to hold over his head. Shedding himself of them, he feels miles more comfortable in a pair of black sweatpants and a shirt with the sleeves torn off and the Alien logo across the front. It’s clearly well-loved, the print cracked and fading from years of use.

He slumps into his chair at the table, pulling the last unopened takeout container towards himself. He doesn’t think twice as he bites into the chicken sandwich, grateful to finally get some food in his stomach.

The unexpected side-effect of eating a full sandwich in just a few bites is that he damn-near hurls when Yuji speaks up.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he mutters meekly. “I don’t-” he sniffles, dipping a fry in ketchup. “I don’t get it.” He dips the same fry in ketchup again, his brow pulled together in confusion. “Did we do something wrong?”

With the way Sukuna’s face drains of color, you take it upon yourself to answer, even as you feel tears fill your eyes. You don’t let them break the seal though, keeping those emotions as tucked away as possible. “No, sweetie. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing that’s happening is your fault.”

Yuji, still confused, continues dipping the same fry in ketchup. “Did Kuna do something wrong?”

Sukuna tenses at your side. Chewing hard on your lower lip to prevent your tears from spilling, you shake your head. “No, no one here did anything wrong.”

Sukuna wishes he believed you. He wishes the circumstances of this lunch- dinner- whatever it is, could be celebratory, but the mood is sour, somber.

“You’re just gonna go stay with your mom for a little bit while Sukuna takes care of some things, okay?” Uraume offers in that familiar reassuring smile they’re always able to offer. You wish you had their resolve, but your body betrays you. “It’ll be fun,” they add. “Like a field trip, and Choso will take care of you, right Cho?”

Choso’s hand trembles as he nibbles on a fry. “Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes flickering between the adults in the room as he gathers the meaning behind Uraume’s words and reassures his little brother.

“But… Kuna can’t come with us?” Yuji asks, dipping his fry in ketchup again.

“I’ll try, Yu. Your mom doesn’t like me,” he admits honestly.

“Why?”

Grimacing, Sukuna wearily shakes his head. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he mutters, dropping the subject as he leans back in his chair.

The rest of the meal is otherwise silent as each of the boys continue to pick at their food, their appetites lacking. Uraume excuses themself shortly after to attend an evening class, and Sukuna takes the chance to follow them to the door to talk.

“I shoulda told you,” he mumbles, keeping his voice down. The apartment is quiet enough that his voice would carry if he raises his voice in the slightest.

“It’s fine, Sukuna. I don’t expect you to tell me everything, though I wish you would have reached out if you needed a hand,” they admit as they pull on their jacket.

To be fair, he did reach out when he needed a hand. Unfortunately the day he needed a hand was, well, today, which solves no problems. That’s just Sukuna being stubborn.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” they add tentatively, pausing as they throw their bag over their shoulder. “But Toji deserves to know.”

Sukuna averts his eyes from Uraume, guilt squeezing his throat. “Yeah,” he rasps quietly, offering nothing more.

Toji’s broken words cling to his memory.

“He was more of a father to me than my parents ever were and you know that!”

With a deep sigh, he crosses his arms over his chest, defeat weighing heavily on his lungs as his breathing becomes labored.

Shit, he’s done it again.

If Jin was like a father to Toji, had he never stopped to consider that Choso would be like a little brother to him? How many hours had the little boy tagged along on their adventures and sat at skateparks or basketball courts with them?

With every question, his brain conjures another image of Toji including little Choso in their adventures. His hands were too small to hold a ball and Sukuna and Toji’s skateboards were a bit too big for Choso to learn on. Hell, Jin would have killed them for even letting the kid step foot on a board without a helmet, but they didn’t have one for him.

Still, Toji found ways to include Choso, just as Sukuna did. He was their scorekeeper and hype man for basketball, grinning happily as Toji would hoist him up onto his shoulders and run around the court after each basket. Choso would grin and giggle in glee, always cheering for Toji. He’d even managed to put together a little chalk set for Choso to play with while they skated. Sukuna recalls some of the older kids making requests and including the little boy, encouraging his artistic skills.

Toji was always better with Choso than Sukuna ever was. It came as a shock given both men were rough around the edges and they’d both sworn they would never want kids of their own when they got older.

But Toji was always great with them.

Now, the thought makes Sukuna want to wretch.

With a frown, he finally meets Uraume’s gaze again.

“Think about it,” they urge him.

Oh, if they only knew.

“And Sukuna? Try to give them a good last few days with you. Don’t let this be the way they remember their time with you,” Uraume adds, casting a glance past Sukuna at a very somber table as you clean up and attempt to encourage the kids despite your own glaring sadness.

“Right,” he hums in agreement.

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m sorry it came to this,” they sigh, grimacing in earnest. “Don’t give up. They need you.”

Sukuna follows their gaze, watching the way you do your best to feign enthusiasm, ruffling Yuji’s hair. You do what you can to let them know they still have time, but Sukuna can see the underlying sadness behind your eyes and if he can, so can Choso, maybe even Yuji. He appreciates your effort, regardless. He’s not sure how well he could manage what you’re doing.

“Right,” he mutters again. “Thanks.”

Uraume offers a bleak smile as they leave. Sukuna shuts the door behind him as the late afternoon sun sets over the horizon and evening approaches quickly. He’s not sure how you manage it, but you keep yourself together while quietly encouraging the boys to play video games, helping them get past some Sonic level they were stuck on.

Or, at least trying to.

Both boys are sitting on the floor with you, the coffee table pushed aside to make room. Yuji is sitting in your lap, giggling as he mashes the A button for you and sends Sonic off every ledge. You let out a mock gasp each time, playing along with Yuji’s little plan and even find Choso calms down, leaning against your shoulder.

The moment allows Sukuna some sense of relief, giving him time to mentally go over the trial. He evaluates each and every thing that went wrong, but for every detail he finds that he could have done something different, it’s always counteracted with some lie he’s sure Kaori already practiced.

Leaning back in the corner of the couch behind you, he stares up at the ceiling. His chest clenches as a the level you’re playing changes and the apartment grows silent during the loading screen. No sniffles, no gasps for air, the first moment of genuine silence since he’d broken the news to his little brothers.

He usually craves the silence after a long day, but now it strikes dread into his heart. He’ll need to grow accustomed to that silence, and that’s not something he’s prepared to face.

He sits quietly, watching the way you interact with his brothers and offer them reassurance so effortlessly. His heart picks up its pace as you laugh when Yuji sends your character off a ledge again.

You’re so good with them.

You’re so good with him.

His jaw tenses as his eyes travel the length of your face, settling on your eyes, set on the screen. You’re struggling to hold yourself together, but you’re doing it so willingly for him and his brothers. You’re being the beacon of support they all so desperately need, even Sukuna himself, as much as he hates to admit that he needs help.

You don’t even blink twice about skipping class, about the study time you’re missing out on, or bearing the weight of Sukuna’s shattered mental health. You’re just there.

Without realizing it, he’s openly scowling at you. He has the answer he needs as to why you’re doing all of this for him, but he can’t help but feel like it’s still not enough.

It’s not enough to think that you do this purely out of love for him and his brothers. Why do you bother when Sukuna doesn’t reciprocate those feelings?

He grinds his teeth as his stomach flutters so dramatically that it feels like it’s doing a damn flip. Shuffling uncomfortably, he pushes aside his thoughts and focuses on the screen, finally able to zone out as you hold the controller over Yuji’s head. Yuji giggles as he clambers over you, but you’re able to cross the finish line before the little boy can sabotage you.

Sukuna can’t say how long he zones out, but it’s dark when you suggest a movie as Yuji tiredly begins to hunch over in your lap. Twisting to get a look at Sukuna, you’re not shocked to find him staring at you with a lidded expression. The dark circles beneath his eyes feel especially accentuated in the dim blue lighting emanating from the TV.

“Can we watch Ice Age?” Yuji requests through a yawn.

“That’s up to your brother.” You nudge Choso, who shrugs. Though he’s been somewhat responsive today, it’s clear that he’s not all there right now.

“Go sit with Kuna,” you encourage them both, getting to your feet to set up Ice Age. Making your way to the shelf beside the TV, you peer back at the three brothers as Sukuna grunts. A bittersweet smile makes its way to your face at the sight before you.

Yuji crawls into Sukuna’s lap, kneeing him in the stomach in the process, but before Sukuna can mutter out a ‘watch it, brat’, or something similar, Choso settles at the man’s side, resting his head on Sukuna’s shoulder.

The brute’s eyes soften as his words die in his throat. He lifts his arms to encircle the boys, slumping back into the cushions again. Fatigue overtakes his expression as quickly as you can pop the DVD case open with a click! and get the movie started.

With the movie on a lower volume than usual, Sukuna’s asleep before Scrat the squirrel finds his acorn.

Which is impressive, given that it’s maybe twenty seconds into the movie, but between the comforting weight and reassuring warmth of his little brothers still safe with him, it’s all he needs to find peace. Even if it only lasts for the hour and twenty one minute run-time of the movie.

With Sukuna’s gentle snores piercing the air every few seconds, Yuji whispers a sweet “night, Kuna,” but he’s not far behind.

You can barely bring yourself to pay attention to the cartoon antics of the characters of the movie, yawning yourself every time you catch a glimpse of the three brothers. It’s sweet, but their fear isn’t lost on you. The way Choso clung to Sukuna earlier, you can only imagine how painful it’ll be to really be forced to let go.

They don’t deserve this pain.

Swallowing hard, your vision grows blurry as liquid clouds your vision.

Your eyes widen in surprise when Choso whispers your name, barely audible over the TV even at a low volume. You had no idea he was awake, his eyes closed each time you would catch a glance at them. Swiping at your tears before they can fall, you quietly reply.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Do you really think Kuna can get us back?”

Your heart shatters at the sound of Choso’s doubt. You’d convinced the boys that Sukuna would win this time around. You’d spent so long reassuring them that he would, that you’re not sure your words carry any weight anymore. Yet Choso still seeks your guidance.

“I do,” you reply with all the certainty you can muster.

Satisfied with your response, he blinks with a drowsy nod. “I’ll miss you,” he mumbles, his head falling back against Sukuna.

Choking on the sobs you need to hold back, you bring a hand up to your mouth. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Choso’s already asleep (for sure this time, if his ajar jaw is anything to go off of) by the time you say it, and thank god for that as the dam breaks again. They’re not your family, you keep reminding yourself, but it doesn’t matter. You love them like they are.

Your quiet heartbreak penetrates the air as you keep your eyes on the movie. Somehow the little found family of characters hardly manages to soothe your frazzled nerves as you find yourself comparing each of the characters to the people in the room. Does that make you Sid the Sloth? Shit, probably. But somehow that doesn’t stop the tears.

The credits roll, leaving the room pitch black as you take deep breaths to even out your breathing. The DVD player clicks a number of times before sending the movie back to the title screen, playing the same few scenes on repeat. The loop only seems to last a minute or two, but it allows you to get your bearings.

Casting a glance at your phone and the multitude of ‘are you okay?’ texts from Kento, alongside a couple from Uraume, you figure it’s late enough that you should head out. After all, you have classes and work tomorrow and the last thing you need is the stress of being a third day behind on everything.

You have your own life that you can’t afford to slack on. With a deep breath, you get to your feet, careful not to disturb the pile of sleeping brothers. Brushing your clothing off, you gather your belongings and set everything at the door before returning to the couch, contemplating waking Sukuna up.

His head is leaning back on the back of the couch, which will undoubtedly leave him with a kink in his neck.

But god they look so sweet. They look like a happy family, to anyone who doesn’t know.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you tap your fingers along the glass momentarily before opening the camera to snap a very dark, barely visible photo. Your phone does what it can to brighten and make sense of the image, but there’s something so real about the dark and fuzzy image that brings a small smile to your face.

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you turn to creep away when a grunt makes you jump.

“Headin’ out, princess?” Sukuna’s voice is gravelly with sleep, low and husky in a way that would set your senses alight in different circumstances. Now that tone carries with it the weight of loss.

“Yeah, um, the movie’s over. I have class and work tomorrow.”

“Right,” he grunts, yawning as he attempts to adjust his sore back. “Shit, these two’re getting heavy,” he grumbles.

You offer a bittersweet smile, watching as he attempts to crack his neck, only to manage to muss his hair out of place until a large tuft covers his vision. Unable to move his arms, he attempts to blow it out of the way, leaving him with a mildly frustrated scowl and a very disheveled appearance.

He huffs, giving up as he’s forced to peek through his overgrown hair up at you. “Thanks for comin’ today.”

“No problem, Kuna,” you whisper in return, taking a ginger step towards the tense man. His piercing gaze doesn’t leave you as you hesitantly reach forward. You pause before you touch his hair, your outstretched fingers giving away your intentions, but when Sukuna doesn’t react, you proceed to card your nails through his hair and brush it out of his vision.

You pull back quickly when his stoic expression remains unchanged, his thoughts painfully hidden behind a mild look.

“Your- um- hair’s gotten long,” you comment to fill the mildly uncomfortable silence.

“Mm. Haven’t really had time to cut it,” he replies evenly as Yuji flips in his sleep.

“I like it, it suits you,” you state, chewing on your lip absently.

Sukuna’s grateful for the darkness as heat creeps up the back of his neck. He keeps his gaze aloof, but he knows his cheeks would betray him if the lighting were the tiniest bit brighter.

He’s not sure when your compliments started heating up his neck and cheeks, but he hates it.

This isn’t Ryomen Sukuna.

But then again, he’s not so sure he knows what makes him him anymore, anyway.

So what’s one more thing to add to the pile?

Quietly clearing your throat when he doesn’t react, you begin to turn, excusing yourself. “I should go. Call me if you need anything, though.”

“Mhm. I owe you one.”

You pause before you can turn towards the door, raising your brow.

He blows air from his nose, as amused as he can manage. “Thanks.”

You offer him a smile before heading towards the door, pulling your shoes on and your coat over your blouse. “Sukuna?”

“Mm?”

“I’m really sorry.”

He blinks once, followed in quick succession by several more as he averts his gaze to the coffee table. His brow pulls together, but he doesn’t know what to say in response. He wants to hate the pity. From both Uraume and from you, but he can’t bring himself to. The Sukuna he’s used to feels out of reach now, a stranger residing in his own body.

“I know you’ll figure it out, though.” It’s the best you can offer in his silence.

He hums.

“See you at work tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” he grunts, pointedly jutting his chin out towards his brothers.

“Right. Um- text me?”

He hums once more.

“Goodnight, Kuna.”

–

As expected, Sukuna doesn’t show up to work the following day. He must have given Maya a heads’ up because every time someone is missing without notice since the disappearance of the original graphic designer, she tends to freak out.

It’s tough to focus with the image of Sukuna and his brothers all passed out on the couch burned into your mind. Even as you edit a young adult novel, an evil step-sister type character makes you want to leap through the page and tear her throat out as though she’s Kaori.

You can’t decide if that’s a dramatic reaction or not.

You don’t hear from Sukuna for most of the day, until late at night when he finally replies to your inquiry of how they’re all doing. You can practically envision him laying in bed, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to stay awake while he texts you.

10:49 PM Kuna || ok. theyre like koalas clinging to me

Under any other circumstances, that would bring a smile to your face, but their fear can be felt through the screen. It resonates deep within you as you reply.

10:51 PM You || And you?

Sukuna doesn’t reply.

Friday is radio silence as well, until the late night hours roll around. You wouldn’t usually be awake at this time, able to focus on your studies more in the morning, but playing catch-up on two days’ worth of studies while struggling to focus has you racing to work through your textbooks.

Your phone buzzes, and it would seem your friend has finally replied to your question from the previous night.

1:03 AM Kuna || tired

You stare at the word, the meaning bleeding through the screen. He’s worn out, running on fumes. You’re honestly surprised he’s managed to hold himself together so well over the past couple of days. Not because he isn’t strong, but because the circumstances he’s fallen into aren’t fair and no one should be expected to be as strong as him or his brothers.

1:06 AM You || I’m so sorry, Kuna

Sukuna doesn’t reply.

Mid-day Saturday, you crack your window open, grateful that the snow has melted and it’s warm enough to let some fresh air into your apartment. Sunlight streams through the window, warming your skin and bringing a sense of life to your work. Studying doesn’t feel quite as dreary when you can enjoy some natural light at the same time.

Stretching your arms over your head, you let out a sigh, deciding to take a break from classwork. Unlocking your phone, you instinctively check your messages with Sukuna, like second nature. He still hasn’t replied.

Frowning, you stare out the window at the sun beaming down on grass outside. It’s still too early in the year for signs of regrowth and greenery, but even the yellowed grass and leafless trees feel full of life with birds flying overhead and children laughing in the distance.

Your shoulders fall at the thought of Choso and Yuji, who might be out among the laughter if their life hadn’t recently taken such a dramatic turn.

Maybe you need a little sunlight yourself to keep your thoughts in order.

Pushing to your feet, you put together a light makeup look, toss on a jacket and make your way out the front door.

The feeling of warm sunlight on your skin is refreshing after such a long winter. You weave your way through the apartment parking lot until you reach a walking path that curls down into a ravine basked in sunlight.

The pavement beneath your feet curls further into the ravine and the further you walk, the more serene it grows. The laughter and the hum of engines becomes distant until it’s all a distant memory. Finches sing overhead while a squirrel peers curiously at you from its perch on a branch that hangs over the path.

For a moment, it allows you to forget. To forget about grades and scholarships, to forget about internships and impending job applications, and to forget about the trials that plague your dear friend. Both metaphorically, and physically.

But peace can only last so long when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Expecting to see Shoko or Kento’s names, you raise your brow when you’re met with the sight of neither.

2:17 PM Kuna || you busy

2:17 PM Kuna || ?

You don’t hesitate to reply.

2:18 PM You || Nope! What’s up, Kuna?

2:19 PM Kuna || fucking exhausted

2:19 PM Kuna || can you watch the kids for a couple of hours

2:20 PM Kuna || i need a nap

Frowning, you turn on your heel to head back up to your building. You don’t bother heading to your floor, hopping straight into your car with an easy ‘On my way!’

Your screen flashes before you pull out of the parking lot with a quick thanks from Sukuna, and it’s not long before you’re at his door, knocking.

“Can you get that, Cho?” you hear Sukuna’s muffled voice on the other side of the door. There’s some shuffling before the little boy quietly opens the door, peering up at you uncertainly until he realizes it’s you. His form relaxes as he lets you swing the door open, following him inside.

His hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in every which way, but he’s okay. He doesn’t seem entirely distant, maybe just a bit detached, which isn’t entirely unlike how Sukuna looks. The oldest brother sits at the kitchen table with Yuji on his lap, teaching the man how to make a friendship bracelet.

“Then- then-” Yuji pauses, contemplating the next step as Sukuna pulls a few strands of twine together somewhat clumsily. “Um- pull this piece,” he points at Sukuna’s left hand, “over this one.” Sukuna’s hands almost feel too big for this activity, but he’s surprisingly calm as he follows his youngest brother’s instructions. “Oh- wait.” Yuji holds the bracelet out a bit. “Um- I think I messed up.”

You half expect Sukuna to sigh, rolling his eyes with some comment about Yuji being a brat, but he simply undoes the last step without a word.

When the door shuts behind you, he casts a glance at you and you realize why.

There’s no life behind his eyes. His chin is covered in stubble, more than you’ve ever seen on him. His shirt is covered in holes and obvious tear and snot stains that you can only imagine are from Yuji. His hair is just as unkempt as Choso’s, and his chest rises and falls so evenly and slowly it almost seems as though he’s already asleep sitting up.

His head sways slightly as he looks you up and down. The sunlight filtering in through the patio window highlights just how pale his skin is as he blinks a number of times. Tears form in his eyes not from sadness, but from his complete and utter lack of sleep over the last few days, more so than usual. He yawns, nudging Yuji to grab the boy’s attention.

The youngest Itadori peeps around his brother’s broad form to catch a glimpse of you, bounding down off of Sukuna to give you a hug.

“Hey, sweetie,” you greet him, obliging his request to be held when he puts his arms out. “Hey, Cho,” you greet the middle brother as well, who’s fiddling with a piece of string as he blankly stares at Sukuna.

He knows. He knows Sukuna’s at his limit.

Letting out a breath, you make your way to Sukuna’s side, peering over his shoulder as he sets down the bracelet he was working on and harshly rubs his facial features.

“Looks good, Yuji and Choso are teaching you well.”

“Mhm!” Yuji agrees, leaning down to point at the half-tied bracelet. “He’s using my favorite colors, see!” He insists. It matches yours, red and black, though it’s designed with a different style of stripes.

“Good choice, Yu,” you agree, attempting to adjust him in your arms as he leans over a bit too far.

“Your brother stole the piece of string you wanted me to add,” Sukuna states dryly, pointing lazily at Choso who’s in his own little world as he stands still near the door where you left him. “Go bother him,” he instructs, mostly just to get a moment to yourselves.

Yuji practically leaps from your arms, stumbling as he lands on the kitchen tile and surely disturbs their neighbors in the apartment below, but Sukuna doesn’t have the energy to care.

“Are you okay?”

Sukuna drags his hands down his face again. “I feel sick,” he admits quietly.

He looks it, too, but he doesn’t need to hear that from you. Raising the back of your hand to his forehead, you’re actually shocked to find he’s not. At least, he isn’t running a fever.

“Go get some sleep,” you murmur softly, dropping your hand. “I’m gonna take them out for a bit.”

He sighs deeply, his muscles relaxing as he pushes out from the chair. “Thanks, you’re an angel,” he rasps.

Barely audible, yet it hits your heart like a semi-truck. Shit, he needs to stop finding such sweet titles for you that make your heart flutter every time he uses them. It’s not fair, even if he doesn’t know it.

As Sukuna drags himself to his room, leaving you staring after him with a steady hammering in your chest, Yuji barrels into you. “Where’s Kuna going?”

“He’s gonna get some sleep,” you explain, ruffling Yuji’s hair. You glance down at what you think are Yuji’s pajamas, making a motion towards the boys’ rooms. “Why don’t you two go get ready? Let’s go out to the park.”

Yuji gasps excitedly, bounding off without a second thought as Choso stalls behind you.

“Cho?”

He hesitates. “I don’t wanna leave Kuna.”

Shit.

“Hey,” you kneel down to his height. “We’re not leaving him. We’ll come back. He just really needs some sleep, sweetheart.” You know Choso already knows that, but the reassurance sets him a bit more at ease. “It’s really warm out, I think some fresh air will make you feel better.”

Choso’s dark hazel eyes examine your expression for a moment as he nervously runs his hand up and down his opposite arm. “Kuna will still be here,” he breathes out as reassurance for himself more than you.

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” he agrees, slowly making his way back to his room.

Letting out a breath, you make your way to the table, taking a look at the friendship bracelets that the brothers were making. Twine is strung along the table alongside a book with instructions. There’s a purple bracelet that seems complete off to the side, though it’s much too small to fit on any adult wrist, and a half-finished red one with a matching pattern where Sukuna was just sitting.

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, your brow pulls together.

Sukuna’s making friendship bracelets for his little brothers.

Gingerly reaching for the book, you skim the instructions, flipping back a page to look at the first page for the pattern. The pattern in full makes a few diamonds along the length of each bracelet, which the book details as symbolizing an unbreakable bond. Your lips part as the words settle like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers minutely tremble as you flip through the book, searching for the stripy pattern that matches your own bracelet.

Inspiration.

Shutting the book abruptly, you shut your eyes and let out a breath to mentally reset before you allow tears to break through the barrier you’ve barely kept up over the past few days.

It’s just a children’s craft book, surely it’s all just made up.

But that doesn’t matter, does it? Not when the boys believe it.

Chewing harder on your lip, you let the book rest gently on the table again, flipping until you reach the page it was open to originally.

Running your fingers through the pile of tangled string beside the book, you smile as you realize the red and purple string has nearly run out. Pulling your fingers from the mess of string, you quirk your head to the side when you find it’s covering something.

Beneath the mess is a pile of mail, three unopened envelopes all addressed to Sukuna. Or, well, Ryomen. Unsure if the boys buried them and if Sukuna’s even seen them, you gather them in your hands to set them aside- just in case.

You drop them on the counter with a small plop! They bounce once, settling slightly askew as the bottom envelope, thicker than the rest, slides out slightly. Red text across the front catches your eyes as you spot ‘URGEN’ in bold red text. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the last letter would be.

Reaching out, you hover over the mail for a moment as your curiosity nearly gets the better of you, but it’s not your place to look. Hell, you shouldn’t be snooping on your friend. He’s got enough going on.

Re-adjusting the pile, you shuffle the envelope back in place despite the concern that chews relentlessly at the lining of your stomach. As Yuji and Choso re-emerge from their room, you will the thoughts away, focusing on trying to make sure both brothers have a good day.

They both look a bit more put-together now with brushed hair and teeth. Yuji is in a T-shirt for a show or game of some sort that you don’t recognize, while Choso wears a black sweatshirt.

“Yu, grab your basketball and let’s go!”

His eyes widen as he finally gets the chance to use his Christmas gift now that the snow has cleared. He races towards you, excitedly letting you wrap his coat around him as you lead the way out the door.

It doesn’t take long by car to reach the spot you have in mind. You can’t say you know the area around the college too well, but you do know of one park in particular.

And maybe it’s a little bit selfish to bring the kids here, but it’s also the only park with basketball courts you can think of.

Two bus stops past your work sits a massive skatepark with graffiti covering every surface and four basketball courts with worn concrete just outside the fence protecting the half-pipe. Just behind the courts is a small playground with a swing set and a fairly elaborate set-up for climbing with a big curly slide painted yellow.

Giving Yuji’s shoulder a nudge, you watch as he runs over to one of the empty courts, bouncing his basketball a few times as he gets the hang of dribbling. Sukuna won’t let him practice in the apartment, so this is a thrill for the little boy, who giggles and runs around when he sends the ball flying across the concrete on accident.

“You know,” you start, peering down at Choso’s lack of enthusiasm, “I’ve heard you used to join Sukuna out here.”

The brunette returns your gaze, his expression aloof. Shit, sometimes he’s too much like the ex-history major. “I guess,” he agrees.

“I think your brother would love that right now.”

Choso wraps his arms around himself as he watches his little brother clumsily dribble the ball. He’s quiet for a long while as the sun beats down on him, warming his skin with its rays. Birds sing and crickets chirp in the fields that extend on either end of the park, interrupted only when Choso’s raspy voice finally cuts through.

“I don’t really want to. I don’t feel good,” he admits.

Nodding slowly, you set a hand on his back as you lead the way to the empty swings, which let you keep an eye on Yuji while you talk to Choso. “Why not, sweetie?”

Swinging his feet out in front of him, Choso swings back and forth a small distance. You follow suit, bringing you back to a simpler time.

“I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t wanna see my mom again,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he shakily gasps for air. Wiping at his tears, he keeps his head down.

Your lips part as you feel Choso’s doubt and pain zipping through the air like lightning. You recall Sukuna yelling at Kaori that Choso asked for multiple Christmases whether she would be home. How long had it taken before it really settled in? How long had it taken for such a young kid to realize that his own mother wasn’t coming home?

Staring up into the sky, you take a deep breath. “You remember what I told Yuji the other day?”

Choso kicks his feet again, continuing to wipe his tears on his sleeves. “It won’t be like a field trip or vacation,” he mutters, staring at his black sneakers. “She doesn’t care.”

His words leave you stcuk between a rock and a hard place and even if you’re just as sure as he is that you’re wrong, you have to try to reassure him. “She must care. We wouldn’t be here if she didn’t,” you point out, trying to see the positivity behind her fighting so hard for her children. In reality, you would argue that the reason you’re here is because she doesn’t care, but you can’t tell Choso that.

He eyes you, a tear slipping down his cheek. “You think?”

“I have to,” you admit, shedding light on your own doubts. Choso’s smart enough to see through lies, you don’t need him believing that adults always lie. Especially not someone he’s placing his trust in. “You know, I think you could have a lot of fun with it.”

He eyes you again, something between curiosity and suspicion pulling his brow together.

“It’s gonna be a lot different, but I bet you could make some new friends and you’ll get to meet lots of fun people and play with a bunch of different toys.”

“I don’t want different toys or new people,” he retorts, wiping another tear.

“Maybe not, but I bet you wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for meeting new people.” You make a point of throwing a thumb back in your direction. “I was a new person once.”

Choso’s nods slightly in agreement as he sniffles.

Before you can continue, a shadow casts long over the both of you. You wrench your gaze up to the figure blocking the sun as they smirk.

“Well if it ain’t my favorite brat and my biggest fan,” Toji grins overhead, a basketball tucked under his arm.

Lifting a hand to block the sun as Toji shifts, you pout up at him. “Since when am I a brat?”

“Since ya started hangin’ out with Ryo,” he snorts.

“I never even knew you before then!”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

No wonder those two were so close.

“Are you playing basketball?” You query.

“Nah- well, kinda,” he replies, spinning around as he searches the park for someone. When he spots who he’s looking for, he beckons them over.

Two girls around Choso’s age come into view, both with stark deep green hair. One wears glasses with her long hair up in a ponytail while the other has a chin-length bob-cut. They both bound up to Toji as the girl with glasses wastes no time swiping the ball from under his elbow.

“Hey-” he huffs, but the girls are already running and giggling as they head towards the courts where Yuji’s still practicing dribbling. Sighing, he shakes his head. “My little cousins,” he explains, pointing a thumb back in their direction. “Fuckin’ handful.”

You smile at the heartwarming interaction. “They’re kids,” you shrug.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his neck to either side, grimacing when it cracks loudly. “How’s my biggest fan doin’?” Toji turns his attention to Choso, who looks up from his shoes.

“Hi, Toji.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he greets the little boy, his brow twitching at the sight of reddened eyes and puffy cheeks.

“It’s a tough day,” you explain in an effort to spare Choso.

Toji hums, his scar pulled taut. “You still play ball, kid?”

“Not really,” Choso mutters. “My brother does.” He points towards little Yuji chasing a kid-sized basketball.

“Oh yeah? You wanna show me?”

Choso glances at you, as if looking for permission. You motion with your chin towards the court. Gingerly, Choso hops off the swing and pads after Toji, jogging to keep up with the man’s long strides.

“Maki! Mai! C’mere!” Toji calls to his cousins, motioning for them to pass him the ball. Choso calls Yuji over, who bolts over excitedly when the middle brother finally joins him. He blinks up in awe at Toji as the man introduces himself and his little cousins. You can’t hear any of the words being exchanged, but Yuji positively beams and holds his basketball out excitedly to the group.

You smile, your heart as warm as the sun on your skin at the sight of even Choso’s little smile. It doesn’t take long before Toji’s coaching them in two teams, cutting in to help teach the ropes to Choso and Yuji where they need it.

Maki manages to get a basket for her and Yuji’s team, high-fiving the little boy with a proud grin. They creep ahead in points of Choso and Mai’s team, each time celebrating with raised arms and cheers.

Mai breaks away from her sister, tossing the basketball over Maki’s head to Choso. The brown-haired boy hesitates for a split-second, glancing to Toji for encouragement, who nods. Taking a breath, Choso holds the ball out to the side to keep it away from Yuji, spinning in place as he dribbles somewhat clumsily to the basket. He pauses near the hoop, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth before jumping and shooting.

The ball hits the rim, rolling around the side before slipping into the net. Choso’s eyes light up and you grin from your place on the swingset as Mai cheers and high fives him, followed shortly by Toji who jogs over with a grin.

“Way to go, kid.” You can just barely make out Toji’s words of encouragement from the opposite end of the park.

As the day continues, they swap between different games, although the girl with her hair up in a ponytail- Maki- seems to consistently pull ahead. You know Yuji loves sports, but it’s surprising to see just how easily the five-year-old is able to keep up with Choso and the two girls. He doesn’t quite have the height to be sinking baskets, but Toji gives him a hand anyway.

As the sun crosses the sky, you migrate to a bench courtside, sharing the children’s glee as Toji hoist’s Yuji onto his shoulders so the boy can, somewhat more fairly, try to sink a basket.

Your attention is drawn to your phone as it vibrates in your pocket.

5:19 PM Kuna || whered you 3 end up

5:20 PM You || Your favorite park :)

5:20 PM Kuna || go figure

5:21 PM Kuna || brat

Two times in one day you’ve been called that now. Rolling your eyes at your phone, you smirk as you reply.

5:22 PM You || Come show me your art!! The kids are having a great time

Along with the message, you snap a photo of Yuji concentrating on the basket in front of him as he tosses the ball with all of his might from atop Toji’s shoulders. It bounces off the backboard, slipping through the net with a satisfying fwip!

It takes Sukuna longer to reply.

5:26 PM Kuna || you called toji?

5:26 PM You || He was here with his cousins by the time we got here

5:27 PM Kuna || ah

You grimace at his lack of enthusiasm, but you suppose it makes sense. He’s running on maybe two hours of sleep and if he does choose to join you, he’ll need to gear up to have a chat with Toji. It’s not exactly anyone’s ideal situation.

Still, he does pull through. A half hour later, he trudges across the skatepark, casting his disinterested glare in the direction of someone who nearly hits him with a scooter. His hood is up, his airpods in his ears, and his hands in his pockets as he approaches the courts.

Pocketing his earbuds, he lets out a sigh as he chooses to ignore the sight before him, hiding his face from his ex-best friend and taking a seat beside you.

“Thanks,” he sighs, “I was fallin’ asleep sitting up.”

“I noticed,” you comment with a raised brow, examining his expression. He still looks downright exhausted, but he’s not swaying, so that’s a plus. “Have you not been sleeping?”

With a shake of his head, he lets out a frustrated breath. “Yu’s been wakin’ up early and Cho’s been havin’ nightmares,” he states, with no need for further explanation. “I can count on one hand how many hours of sleep I’ve gotten since-” he pauses, furrowing his brow. “- Wednesday? Fuck, what day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Christ,” he breathes, dragging a hand down his face. “One day left. Still gotta pack, too.”

Your heart sinks, gazing over at Yuji and Choso as they pass the basketball between one another. Beneath the golden hours of warm rays beaming down on them, the moment seems almost picturesque. They look so happy, it’s so easy to forget that this is the last time you’ll see them.

For a bit.

You inhale sharply as you mentally remind yourself that Sukuna will get them back. You can’t have doubts, there’s no room for them.

Lest you all fall apart.

“It’ll be okay,” you assure him, reaching out gingerly to rest your hand over his as it sits on his thigh. His irises flicker down to your hand as he moves his thumb up to brush the side of your palm. “Do you have a meeting with Ms. Harte soon?”

“Wednesday,” he mutters, his gaze raising to focus on the court in front of him. The four kids are playing some variation of ‘HORSE’ while Toji stands off to the side. If his frown is anything to go off of, he’s noticed Sukuna already. “Well, shit.”

Pushing to his feet with a drawn-out sigh, he pushes his hood down and drops your hand back at your side.

“Be right back,” he mutters, crossing the court and ruffling both of his brothers’ already messy hair as he makes his way to Toji. They both call out some form of ‘hey!’, which transforms into gleeful giggles and smiles at the realization that it’s Sukuna.

Stepping past the court to where Toji is standing with arms crossed over his chest, Sukuna finds himself hesitating. “Hey,” he starts uncertainly, “I was a dick-”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Toji interrupts, earning a glare from Sukuna.

“Don’t push it,” Sukuna hisses, crossing his arms over his own chest.

“Don’t push it? Don’t push what, Ryo? Ya didn’t fuckin’ tell me-” Toji pauses, momentarily glancing at the kids when he finds Mai’s gaze trained on him. Lowering his voice, he continues. “- you didn’t fuckin’ tell me Jin died, you asshole.”

“Fuck, I know,” Sukuna growls, “can you shut up for a second and let me talk? Christ,” he huffs, shaking his head as Toji disdainfully frowns. “Look, I fucking know. I fucked up, okay? I should have said something but when their mom didn’t answer-” he begins explaining, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “- I just had too much goin’ on and I didn’t think it through.”

Toji’s sharp emerald gaze follows the direction that Toji points, flickering between the two kids and back to the exhausted brute standing in front of him.

“I don’t-” Sukuna pauses, dragging his hands down his face and back up through his hair to keep it out of his eyes. “I don’t know what happened,” he admits with a dry shrug. He knows his excuse is shit. He knows he fucked up. He feels like shit.

He’ll feel even worse when he tells Toji this is his second last day with the kids and he also omitted that information until now.

“I just didn’t tell you, alright? I didn’t wanna go out or see anyone, I didn’t wanna tell anyone what was going on.”

“I get that, but come the fuck on, man,” Toji raises his arms in an exasperated shrug. “You know what Jin meant to me.”

Sukuna averts his gaze, trailing along the cracked concrete beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the best he can offer. He doesn’t even really expect Toji to accept his apology.

Toji sighs, scratching at the dark stubble dotting his chin.

“Look,” he starts, unimpressed, “I fuckin’ get not wantin’ to talk to anyone, but you were my fuckin’ brother. Jin was like-”

“I know!” Sukuna barks, attempting to compose himself with a roll of his shoulders. “There were lawyers there constantly, I had to fuckin’ sell the house, I had to learn how to change diapers-” he pauses, throwing his shoulders up in a shrug. “It’s a shit excuse, I just didn’t have time to think about others. I’m a piece of shit, whatever. Not like that’s new.”

“Christ, Ryomen,” Toji continues to frown, looking him up and down as he evaluates just how shitty Sukuna looks, even now. “So what, I’m s’posed to accept your apology n’ act like nothin’ happened?”

Frowning, the salmon-haired man just shrugs. “Do whatever you want,” he grumbles. “I appreciate the phone, though.”

Toji’s eyes narrow a smidge, irises flickering to and fro as he contemplates Sukuna’s words. “Y’re welcome,” he gruffs, shaking his head in an effort to move some hair from his eyes as the wind whips across the court. “Dunno if I’m willing to let that go, but I’ll try,” he sighs.

It’s different. It’s not what Sukuna wants, but he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Omitting Jin’s death is a lot more serious than most of his other transgressions.

“You oughta thank your girl, though,” Toji grunts, nodding his chin in your direction as you cheer the kids on across the court. “‘Cause she must be rubbin’ off on me to be willin’ to give y’r ass a break.”

Sukuna follows the tilt of Toji’s chin to you.

He already knows he owes you a lifetime of favors, what’s one more?

As the breeze dishevels Sukuna’s already mussed hair, he stares out across the court at Toji’s little cousins who he hasn’t seen in years passing a ball around to Yuji and Choso. It’s so painfully normal and it’s what the kids should have. It’s what they deserve.

“I guess before you decide if you’re gonna give me a chance,” Sukuna inhales sharply, shutting his eyes. “I’m losin’ the kids.”

Shifting to face Sukuna again, the man’s brow knits. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, lingering on his scar. “What?”

“Kaori stuck me with a lawsuit. She won.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

Sukuna blinks his eyes open again. Yuji laughs gleefully in the background as Maki tosses the ball to him. It rolls off the tips of his fingers, rolling along the ground as he chases after it.

“Fuck, man,” Toji clasps his hands together, resting them on his head as the revelation settles in. He turns to face the court alongside Sukuna, watching the scene unfold as Yuji tosses the ball back towards Choso. He scowls as his gaze rests on Choso. “Y’know that kid was like a lil brother to me?”

“I know.” There’s nothing more to be said.

“Christ, Ryomen.” Toji’s hands fall down to his sides as he shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this shit?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Didn’t tell anyone.”

“Nah, just Shoko n’ Kento.”

Shit.

“Didn’t have a choice, Toji.”

“Bullshit!” Toji roars, shoving a figure pointedly at Sukuna’s chest. “Bull-fucking-shit. Maybe you didn’t have a choice with them, but you did with me. N’ you made your choice,” he hisses, dropping his hand as he frustratedly turns away from his friend, needing a break from simply seeing him. “Anythin’ else while we’re here?” He asks, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Dad asked about you a lot,” Sukuna begins hesitantly. His father’s words had echoed in his mind so frequently that he’d never quite been able to grapple with the fact that he’d kept them to himself all these years. What better opportunity than now, when he’s six feet under in guilt? “He wanted you to know he was proud.”

Toji stands ram-rod straight, scowling at the asphalt. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his forearm over his face. He sucks in a breath, turning away from the court and Toji.

It’s not enough, Sukuna’s shitty apology. He knows it isn’t. Toji has enough on his plate between school, football, and his strained relationship with his family, and Sukuna isn’t making that any better. He’s a shitty friend.

“‘M sorry.”

Toji just shakes his head, exasperated. “What the fuck even happened, really? All those years, everythin’ we went through, it meant nothin’ to ya?”

Sukuna just shrugs, too drained to argue. “I fucked up.”

Toji huffs, dragging his hand down his chin. He pauses for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth before turning on a dime and ramming his fist into Sukuna’s shoulder. He didn’t put his full strength into the punch, but it had enough power to leave Sukuna irritated as he stumbles a step back, catching himself before he topples over.

He glares at Toji, who just shrugs as he scratches his shoulder. “Made me feel a lil’ better,” he grumbles. “Just- stop bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, okay? Gettin’ real sick of it.”

It’s not forgiveness, but he can live with that all the same.

“Yeah,” the tattooed brute mutters, rolling his arm out. “Trying not to.”

“Good.” Toji turns to face him, taking a step forward to lower his voice, dangerously so. “‘Cause me, Uraume, Atsuya, and y’r girl don’t deserve that.” He backs up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ain’t holdin’ back next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. And she’s not my girl.”

Toji’s brow raises. “I just told you not to feed me bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“You wanna hold hands, then? Since that’s somethin’ you do with people y’re just friends with?” He deadpans, holding his hand out mockingly.

“Shut up,” Sukuna grumbles, smacking his hand away.

Amused, the raven-haired man snorts. “Whatever, man. Keep lyin’ to yourself.”

Toji has every reason to suspect Sukuna will make a big deal out of that, but when he turns to find the ex-history major’s reaction, it’s blank. His eyes are trained on you across the court as Yuji puts his entire weight into dragging you onto the asphalt, much to your dismay.

“I’m not good at basketball like Toji or Kuna,” you insist, giggling in embarrassment.

The two men watch in silence as you try to sink a few baskets, missing the first couple of shots entirely before being able to consistently hit the backboard, but never sink a shot. The kids chase after the ball with each miss to toss it back to you, continuing to encourage you.

“It’s okay that you’re really bad!” Yuji insists brightly. “You’re good at other things.”

Toji snorts at the backhanded compliment.

“Yu, that’s rude,” Sukuna scolds.

“He gets it from you,” Toji mocks, much to Sukuna’s dismay.

But you’re laughing at the hilariously blunt way Yuji phrased his version of a compliment, so Sukuna can’t be too upset.

“Sorry,” the little boy mutters, walking up to you for a hug.

Suppressing your laughter, you rub his back. “It’s fine, sweetie. You wanna know a secret?”

His little fingers curl into your jacket as he clings to you, nodding.

“You’re right. I’m really bad at basketball.”

He grins, content as you encourage him to show you the right way to sink a basket.

The two men are forced to watch as your form somehow gets worse as you mimic Yuji. Your shots get progressively further from the basket until you’re outright missing again, hot with embarrassment given your painfully large audience.

“Use your wrist!” Toji calls, making a motion with his wrist.

You watch the motion, attempting to mimic his advice and getting a bit closer, albeit still missing. Mai tosses the ball back to you as it rebounds off the backboard straight towards her.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you focus on the basket, narrowing your eyes in concentration. Just as you’re about to shoot, you’re caught off-guard by a nudge to your shoe. Squeaking in surprise, you stand upright, turning to find Sukuna directly behind you.

“Right idea, wrong execution,” he says plainly. “Turn back to the net.”

Blinking, you follow his instructions.

He nudges the inside of your shoe with his foot from where he stands a small distance behind you. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees.” He circles to the side to get a look at your form. “Focus on the square on the backboard, then do what Toji showed you with your wrist.”

You nod slowly, mentally going over his words as you recenter yourself and stare in concentration at the backboard. Leaping into the air, you watch as the basketball soars through the air and hits the backboard, circling the rim before tipping away.

“Close,” Sukuna catches the ball as it rebounds, dribbling it once before tossing it to Choso, who immediately tosses it back like they’ve done this before. He dribbles it once more before passing it back to you. “Here,” Sukuna instructs, stepping behind you. The warmth emanating from his body feels more like fire as every nerve and hair on your body stands on end at the strangely intimate position you’re in with him as he nudges your feet slightly apart.

Your face is positively burning, and you can’t bear a glance at Toji, who’s smirking on the sidelines.

“When you shoot,” he instructs, his arms wrapping around to guide yours as he simulates a shot with his hands resting over yours. He guides you through the motion without actually letting go of the ball. “Make sure you shoot from here,” he instructs, holding the ball straight above your elbow. “Not here,” he adds, mimicking where you were holding it.

Nodding, you keep your vision forward, chewing your lip raw with the amount of fluttering and flipping your stomach is doing. Sukuna backs up an inch, giving you space to breathe properly now that the scent of smoke mixing with his cologne isn’t invading your senses and clouding your thoughts.

Running over his instructions in your head, you send the ball flying again, missing once more, though you were close again as it tumbled from the rim with little speed. Throwing your head back in frustration, you groan. “It’s fine, I’m okay being bad,” you shake your head as Sukuna prepares to toss you the ball.

“Give it one more go,” he encourages, bouncing it on the asphalt as he passes it back to you.

You grimace, but get back into position, bending your knees and hopping as you send it flying through the air. The ball bounces off the backboard, falling into the net as though it comes to you effortlessly.

“Atta girl,” Sukuna smirks, catching the ball in one hand as he locks his arm around your middle, much to your dismay as he picks you up and flips you to face the kids. “See, just takes some practice.”

You know he’s just making a point to the kids, but it feels as if he’s trying to show them just how flustered you are as you cling to his forearm for purchase. “Put me down,” you gasp, squeaking in surprise as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your waist, though by now you know it’s no use. You’ve been the victim of Sukuna’s manhandling enough to know he’s not letting go until he feels like it.

Yuji excitedly cheers for you while Choso and the two girls grin. “Me too, Kuna!” Yuji insists, reaching his arms out to be lifted into the air with you.

“Not me,” you try again, flailing your legs and even kicking his shin on accident, but it still doesn’t seem to affect him. You swear he thinks you’re a sack of potatoes.

Sukuna uses his spare hand to toss the ball back towards Choso, who dribbles it in place upon catching the ball. Sukuna leans down to the best of his ability with you writhing in his arms as he lets his youngest brother wrap his hands around his bicep, standing back up as the little boy dangles from his arm, laughing and cheering as he kicks his feet out.

Even Choso has a little smile on his face at the sight of Yuji laughing so freely.

It’s the way things should be.

Even if that means Sukuna’s manhandling you.

He sets you back on your feet as Yuji hops down onto the ground, running back to Choso. Taking a couple of steps forward, you put some distance between you and Sukuna, practically praying for a breeze that might cool your warm cheeks and neck. You don’t dare look back at the smug expression you’re sure he’s sporting, smoothing your outfit as you turn away.

“Not too bad,” Toji comments, jogging up to you to give you a pat on the back. Your eyes widen briefly at the amount of force he used, though you assume he’s just used to doing such a thing to his team members. People with a bit more muscle mass.

“Thanks.” As you turn to face him, you catch Toji eyeing Sukuna with a frown, unable to read his otherwise neutral expression.

“Kid’s got a point though,” Toji adds with a smug grin as he nods towards Yuji. “Don’t quit your day job.”

“I told you I was bad,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Oh hey, can you watch the kids for a moment? Sukuna owes me a favor.”

Raising a brow behind you, the salmon-haired man takes a step forward at the sound of his name.

“I gotcha,” Toji nods.

When you grab Sukuna’s wrist, he doesn’t argue, following after you compliantly.

“Alright, King,” you tease with a mischievous gleam in your eye as he falls into step beside you. “Or should I say, The King?”

Groaning, he rolls his eyes, making a show out of huffing in irritation. “That why you brought them here?” He grumbles, pulling his wrist out of your grasp.

“Nope, I just didn’t know where else there were basketball courts,” you smile innocently. “I’m not from around here, remember?”

“Right.” He can’t even really be upset with you though when you’re beaming at him with a little tilt of your head. Your thumb subconsciously rubs circles into his tattooed wrist, and for a moment, everything seems to fall away.

The world seems to mute itself, putting his responsibilities and exhaustion on pause as he finds himself staring at your lips. He knows they’re moving. He knows you’re talking, but he can’t hear a word as everything he’s been running from seems to flood his mind at that moment.

His lips part as his heart accelerates rapidly. Can you feel it? Through the pulse point in his wrist? Do you know that you’ve made Sukuna reconsider the lens in which he views the world and try to be better for his brothers, for himself, but also for you?

Is that what his feelings have been this whole time? Is Toji right, that Sukuna is lying to himself? Does he already see you as his girl?

But that leaves him with a bigger, more daunting question.

Does he deserve that luxury?

He swallows hard, averting his gaze as the ringing in his ears melts away, leaving behind your continuing dialogue.

“- it’s convenient, though.” You pause, casting a glance back at Sukuna. “This is the tunnel, right?”

Sukuna’s expression is a mystery in itself as he blinks at you as though he’s seen a ghost. “Hm?” He gazes at you blankly, taking in his surroundings as though he’s just getting his bearings. “Yeah. Uh, this is it.”

Your brow furrows at his strange reaction, but you let it go, dragging him into the tunnel.

Though it’s currently void of skaters, the entire tunnel is made up of a funbox with ramps and pipes all over the ground. Every inch of smooth concrete is covered with art of all different styles and colors, trailing up the walls where it begins to taper off towards the top of the tunnel where it’s harder to reach.

“How did you even get up there?” You ask, craning your neck to search the ceiling for his tag.

“Uh-” he chuckles as he scans the ceiling as well. “Toj’ n’ I tied a rope up there-” he points towards the top of the tunnel where the bridge above has a railing. “I swung down, and Toji had another rope that he dragged me around with.”

With your jaw ajar, you stare at him in wide-eyed horror.

“Relax,” he snorts, “I wouldn’t do it again. We were kids, seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“This is why men die younger than women.”

“Probably,” he agrees with an amused scoff.

There’s only the occasional tag here and there across the ceiling as you slowly make your way through the tunnel, until you come to a piece that is undeniably what you’re looking for. A steady grin spreads across your lips as you come to a halt under the tag, dropping your grip on Sukuna’s wrist.

Scrawled across the ceiling is ‘THE KING’ in sharp and bold red lettering with black outlines. It almost resembles a graffiti logo for one of the metal bands he often has on his shirt with seemingly random branches and lines jutting out from each letter. Off to the left is also a surprisingly charming little ‘+ Toji’ and a small face beside his name.

“It’s really good!”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.” Whirling around to face him, your eyes shine as you grin. “I mean it, it’s really good.”

“Thanks, princess,” he mutters, a very noticeable amount of pink dusting his cheeks as he scowls at nothing in particular.

“It does scream edgy teen, though,” you giggle.

“There it is,” he gruffs, rolling his eyes. “I was a teen.”

“An edgy teen.”

“Oh whatever, prom queen,” he grumbles, kicking at a pebble by his foot as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

You giggle, and along with that comes a sense of relief that you aren’t still upset over the outcome of your fight and his use of that name. He can’t help but smile.

As your laughter settles, you look back up at the tag. “How didn’t you get paint all over yourself?”

“Oh, I did.” He takes a step towards you, pointing towards the edge of the tag where it seems as though something got in the way of the spray can. “That line is from my sleeve. My dad was pissed, it was all over my hair.”

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

He hums in agreement, turning his attention to you as you pull out your phone. Narrowing his eyes, his lips quirk into a frown. “Don’t,” he warns.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, attempting to hide your smile as you open the camera app.

“Don’t.”

Raising your camera towards the ceiling, you squeal as Sukuna attempts to grab your phone. Jutting your hand out to the side to dodge his grasp, you duck away and quickly snap a photo.

“Give that to me, brat.”

Sukuna takes a long stride towards you, using his height advantage to grab a hold of your wrist. You swap the phone into your other hand, but your friend’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your other wrist in his free hand. His hands are big enough that he can hold both wrists together in only one, much to your dismay, as you watch him snatch your phone and delete the image while holding your hostage.

“Wait, please, I won’t even show anyone!” You insist.

He raises a brow, unimpressed. “What, you’re just gonna stare at it for fun by yourself?”

Shrugging in his grasp, you grin mischievously. “I was thinking more like I’d use it to tease you.”

“Not happening.”

He shoves your phone in the pocket of your jacket, dragging you out from the tunnel by your wrists. Even with both of your arms held in one of his large hands, he’s careful not to cause you any harm.

“Killjoy.”

“Whatever, princess,” he grumbles, but you’re privy to the little smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

The sun’s rays are beginning to fall beneath the horizon, and between the night beginning to envelop the world and Sukuna’s own fatigue, he makes a motion for Choso and Yuji to wrap up their game as he releases your arms when you get back to the courts. Yuji pouts, begging for another few minutes.

Once his time is up, he takes Sukuna’s hand as you say your goodbyes to Toji.

“Will we see them again?” Yuji asks.

Sukuna wants to say yes. He wants to think he’s mended enough that Toji might give him a shot at fixing what he broke, but that’s not even the problem.

“Once you’re back from your mom’s…” he exchanges a glance with Toji, who shrugs. “Maybe.”

Yuji’s smile fades. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, dragging his foot along the ground.

“Hey,” Sukuna kneels down. “Ya still got a day with me, okay?”

Yuji nods, continuing to pout. “Okay, Kuna.”

As Maki and Mai begin complaining about being hungry, Toji grabs his basketball, tucking it under his arm. “We’re headin’ out. See ya around.”

“Us too,” Sukuna agrees. “See you,” he grunts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Mind driving us home, princess?”

The car ride is fairly silent as your stomach churns. You’re fairly sure Sukuna can hear it grumbling from his place in the passenger seat, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

You continually glance back at the boys, the uneasy feeling of this being the last time you’ll see them for a bit sitting like a lump in your stomach. They don’t need to think that way. You don’t want them to.

Normally you wouldn’t get out of your car when dropping them off, but this isn’t quite the same. Hopping out of your seat into the parking lot, you help Yuji out of the vehicle, letting him hold your hand as you round to the other side where Sukuna and Choso are.

Kneeling down to Yuji’s height, you smile as you hold out your arms. “You have fun at your mom’s, okay?”

Yuji crashes into you, holding onto you tightly. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You’ll have so much fun, okay?”

He sniffles as you feel a tear dampen the thin material of your jacket. “Okay.” Pulling back, he peers up at you behind emotional eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, sweetie.” You force a smile, proud of yourself for keeping your own sadness at bay as Choso slowly approaches you. “Hey honey, come here.”

Stepping forward, Choso gingerly wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispers truthfully, leaning his weight more and more into you with each second. His voice carries a tone of resignation that wasn’t there when you last saw him, as though he’s come to terms with the decision in spite of his words. “I really don't wanna go.”

You rub his back gently, hugging him tightly. “I’m gonna help Kuna with that, okay? You look after your brother. We’ll be like a team, even if we’re far away.”

Choso just sighs. “I’m not a kid anymore, you don’t have to pretend like that for me.”

Well that’s heartbreaking.

“I’m not pretending, Cho. I mean it. We’ll all look after one another and Kuna and I will fight for you two, okay?”

“Promise?” He whispers.

“Pinky.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Choso. Stay strong, okay?”

He pulls back, immediately hiding his face in his sleeve as he wipes away what he can of his fear and sadness. “Um- okay.” He sniffles, staring at you for a long moment when he drops his arm from his face, as though he’s trying to commit you to memory.

When you tilt your head at him, trying to get a read on his thoughts, he seems to come back to the world and backs up until he bumps into Sukuna. Craning his neck to find his oldest brother watching with a somber expression.

Chewing on your lip, you inhale sharply as you force a smile. “You two have fun, okay?”

Yuji nods, though Choso doesn’t reply.

You hide your tears as long as you can, but the floodgates finally break when you pull out of the parking lot.

–

Sukuna swears the world mourns for him as he stares up at the ceiling. He’s not sure how early it is, but the sun only casts enough light to faintly make out the outline of his ceiling lamp as it casts a barely visible shadow and his alarm hasn’t gone off yet. The birds have taken some sort of oath of silence as far as he can tell, and he hates the way the quiet leaves him with his thoughts.

As it stands, yesterday had already served as an ample challenge. Getting two young boys to pack bags and box up their belongings through tears is a task and a half.

And that’s not even mentioning the fact that he’d had to tell them to leave a lot behind. At the end of the day, he knows Kaori, and he knows that things like their Gameboys would end up mysteriously disappearing. He just needs to remind himself that this won’t be forever, just as he reminds them. He won’t let it be forever.

Sitting up, he throws his legs over the end of the bed, hunching over as he leans his elbows on his thighs and stares down at his feet. Letting out a long breath through his nose, he rests his face in his palms.

Everything seems to move in slow motion around him, or maybe it’s the nausea that comes along with five consecutive sleepless nights filled with a churning in his gut.

Dragging his hands down his face, he holds his breath, willing his stomach and head to work with him. “Fuck,” he mutters, pushing to his feet as he makes his way to the washroom.

Flicking on the light, he blinks as his eyes adjust to the sterile lighting, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll get them back,” he whispers to himself, but the person looking back at him doesn’t seem convinced. He’s done so well at suppressing his emotions since the trial to keep his brothers at ease but he finds it bubbling to the surface now that reality is settling in.

Sucking in a breath, he stares down at the sink, letting it out shakily. His stomach convulses as his alarm goes off in the other room.

Two hours.

Two hours until they’re gone.

His knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the sink. It feels as though he moves in slow motion when he turns the tap on to cold water and splashes it in his face. Blinking quickly, he lets it drip from his chin for a moment before wiping his face. He wets his hands again and drags it through his hair, pushing it back off of his forehead.

Shutting the tap off, he heads back to his room, pulling on a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. As much as he wants the comfort of a hoodie and sweats, he can’t leave any kind of negative impression on Kaori. He can’t give her more ammo if he’s planning on bringing her back to court.

Grabbing his phone, he shuts off the alarm, checking his notifications. A couple of emails, a low battery warning given that he’d forgotten to plug his phone in, and three texts. Two from you, and one from Uraume.

He opens the message from you first.

6:03 AM Princess || Hey Kuna, are you okay?

6:07 AM Princess || I’m here if you need anything

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, reading over the words a number of times. He’s not sure how long he stares at the words. It’s as though each time he tries to read them, they just don’t register.

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he scowls as he focuses on the words. Glancing up at the time, he figures you must have woken up early just to send him a text, but some part of him feels that this process is better left between him and his step-mother. He doesn’t want you involved and he doesn’t want to make this harder on the kids when they’ve already said their goodbyes. As it stands, he was shocked they handled it somewhat well.

He thinks you just do a better job at reassuring them that you’ll see them again than he does.

6:14 AM Sukuna || im okay. thanks princess

He sets his phone aside again, raking a hand through salmon strands as he stares blankly at the photo of him with his brothers and father on his dresser. The corner is torn, showing the back of the frame where Kaori had been standing. He’s never been able to get the full picture out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. Now, it seems to taunt him.

The wounds she’s caused will always remain on him as scars.

Pushing to his feet, he makes his way to the living room. There are four boxes, two duffel bags, and two backpacks set up and ready at the front door. It had been a hassle to get them to even pack anything beyond the backpack and duffel bag, they’d fought with him the entire time on what to bring and what to leave, but it mostly came down to what Sukuna trusted Kaori with.

That being said, it’s also hard to convince a five-year-old to leave some of his favorite things behind because Sukuna doesn’t trust the boy’s mother.

He makes his way over to the table, where two woven bracelets sit, along with two photo frames. His lips turn down at the sight as he drags his finger along the bottom of one of the frames. Picking it up, he stares intently at the photo he’d printed.

Halloween, two years ago. Yuji is in what might be the scariest Sonic costume he’s ever laid eyes on, while Choso is a vampire, though his sweet smile would indicate otherwise. Sukuna, as unimpressed as ever, has Yuji on his shoulders and Choso in front of him. Uraume had taken the photo right before Sukuna took the boys out trick-or-treating.

His eyes land on his dramatic grimace at the center of the image. Yuji had begged him to dress up, and for all his huffing and puffing, it really didn’t take much for Sukuna to fold. His costume was nothing fancy, he’d bought a cape and crown from the dollar store and called it a day, but Yuji was happy.

His terrifying Sonic grin remains one of Sukuna’s favorite memories with the two boys to this day.

And don’t even get him started on what the makeup looked like by the end of the night, once it had smudged.

Easily among the most horrifying costumes he’d seen that night.

Sighing, he turns towards the boxes at the door, tucking each frame into different boxes. Even if Kaori tries to cut his visitation, and god forbid Sukuna fails again, he prays that someday the boys will be smart enough to check the back of the frames, where he had tucked his contact information away.

And that’s even if she lets them keep the photos.

He frowns, tucking the box wings back in place as he glances at the clock.

An hour and a half left.

He blinks, heading back to the washroom to brush his teeth while he gathers some shoes and other things the boys will need that may have slipped their minds with the emotional day yesterday.

He wants more time with them, but he also can’t bear to wake them up until they need to leave. He’s not sure he can manage to keep his emotions bottled up any longer than necessary.

He busies himself until the clock hits seven thirty in the morning, and finds himself standing in their doorway for what might be the last time. Crimson irises survey the two beds tucked against either wall. Toys no longer litter the floor, mostly all tucked away, while a few books are missing from the shelf and the open closet is mostly empty.

His heart sinks, his senses all fading and leaving behind a familiar numb feeling. His ears ring, his vision blurs, his skin feels fuzzy. Everything is shrouded in a layer of fog as familiarity settles over him.

Three months after his father had passed away, the house had sold.

Sukuna had no part in it, he let the lawyers and realtors do their thing. Not like he knew what the fuck was going on anyway.

Standing at the entry to his father’s untouched room, his eyes are glazed over as he surveys the dusty surfaces. It takes him a moment to work up the courage to step inside.

He keeps to the wall, looking over the belongings scattered across the surfaces of the dressers and desks that line the wall.

Cologne, pens, a few documents, a pill bottle. Several pill bottles. Hospital records. More pill bottles.

He turns, scanning the surfaces closer to the bed.

Prescriptions. It’s all emptied prescription bottles.

Between the prescriptions, he spots the gleam of a silver frame. Reaching out, he blankly watches as a full bottle tips and a pile of white pills spill across the surface. He can’t bring himself to be bothered with the mess as his fingers brush the frame. He lifts it from its place, blowing the dust from the surface.

All these years, all of this time single-handedly taking care of Jin and he never knew he was in this photo. He’d never stopped to look at it. He’d always seen his dad in the top of the photo, but he didn’t realize his dad was holding him. Sukuna can’t be more than a few days old, just a little baby in the blurry image.

He blinks, something warm trailing down his cheek. He lifts his head, looking around blankly at nothing in particular as grief pulls him back underwater.

“Why’d you have to go?” Sukuna mutters, staring at an empty container of blood thinners. His gaze travels an inch to the right, settling on a bottle of perfume. Kaori’s. Covered in an extra layer of dust, untouched for over a year.

His brow twitches, and before he can consider what he’s doing, his lip curls into a snarl and the perfume hits the floor. It shatters, the weight of the impact sending the ringing in his ears wild.

Letting out a shaky breath, the numbness fades as everything seeps into the cracks of his carefully crafted walls, overbearing. Sucking in a breath, he recoils at the pungent smell of the room.

With gritted teeth, he sets the photo down and turns to grab a towel, heading back to toss it on the floor, soaking up the majority of the liquid. Once it’s been mostly wiped away with his foot, he gets down to his knees to finish cleaning up the floor. He scans the hardwood, pausing when something glints at the edge of his vision.

He reaches under the dresser, picking up a smooth, metallic lighter.

‘Itadori’ is carved into the side. He recognizes it from a while ago. He doesn’t know where it came from, but he remembers seeing his dad use it, back before he cut his smoking habit.

That’s probably around the time Sukuna gained the same habit. His father’s health waned, and with it went Sukuna’s mental health.

He flips the lid open, sparking a flame. He tosses the towel aside, the odor of his step-mother’s perfume no longer at the top of his mind.

Continuing to stare at the flame, he feels a lump settle in his throat, unable to swallow to shove it down. Reaching into his pocket, he finds the familiar shape of a box of cigarettes in his pant pocket and nimbly slides one cylinder out. Setting it between his lips, he lights the cigarette and sucks in a harsh breath of nicotine.

It settles in his veins, calming the tremor in his hand. He shuts the lighter as he breathes out straight up in the air. The smoke swirls above him as he slumps down onto the floor, leaning against the dresser. A drawer handle digs into his back, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He props his knee up, leaning his arm against it as he stares at the lighter.

He can practically hear his dad scolding him for smoking, let alone inside. Let alone in a house that’s been sold. The new owners will have a strange experience with scents when they reach this room, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Sukuna’s simply too tired to care.

Yuji’s sobbing starts up again out of nowhere. Shutting his eyes, Sukuna drops his head back onto the dresser with a resounding thump.

“Dunno what I’m doing, Dad. Don’t think you’d be too proud if you saw me now,” he mutters, as though maybe his father can hear him somehow through the lighter. Maybe he’s listening, watching. Disappointed, probably.

The lump grows until the feeling of something building in his chest seems to overflow. Warmth floods his eyes, overflowing and falling down his cheeks. They trail down his chin, leaving behind the evidence on his shirt.

Yuji’s cries continue and Sukuna shuts his eyes harder. “I’m such a shit brother,” he mutters, coughing as smoke fills his lungs. “I can’t do this,” he rasps, but even as he doubts himself, he pushes off of the ground, grunting as he reaches his feet. He picks up the towel, heading with purpose to the balcony to put out his cigarette and toss out the towel on his way.

Wiping his face on his sleeve, he sniffles once before making his way into Yuji’s room. Just over a year old, he’s probably just woken up hungry. Lifting the toddler into his arms, Sukuna rubs his back.

“C’mon Yu, it’s okay.” His best attempt at soothing the child in his current state of mind comes out dry. “Didn’t mean to take so long.”

Another day for Sukuna to push through. He’ll soldier on until he can’t any longer.

His lips part as he comes back to, shaking his head at the realization that he’d spaced out. His heart is beating fast, the memory causing his muscles to tense.

“Shit,” he mumbles, glancing at the clock. Twenty minutes.

He steels himself, his brow drawn together as he shakes both brothers awake. He waits off to the side with the clothes they’d set aside for the day as they begin to stir.

Choso’s movements are mechanical, Yuji is simply tired. Sukuna can’t say for sure if Yuji truly understands what’s happening, even now. He appreciates that the boy’s been relatively alright, all things considered, but he’s not actually sure if the boy gets it now.

Choso, on the other hand…

Sukuna watches as the boy takes the clothing laid at the end of his bed, moving out the door without even acknowledging his older brother.

He fluctuates between wanting to talk and being completely devoid of any emotion. It’s like he wants to take your advice, but he’s fighting his own demons, distant.

It’s a hollow feeling to watch his siblings prepare to leave. The house is silent, forlorn. The air hangs stagnant, a musty feeling clinging to Sukuna’s skin.

“Can’t I just stay here?”

Sukuna turns towards Choso. The little boy’s face has streaks of wetness down either side, his gaze pleading.

Sighing, Sukuna kneels down to his brother’s level. “You can’t. I’ll get in trouble.” He grimaces, letting out a breath through his nose as he sets his hands on either of Choso’s shoulders. “Listen, I’m gonna do everything I can to get you both back, okay? I need you to look after your brother just like I looked after you, got that?”

More tears streak down the little boy’s face as he nods.

Sukuna pats his right shoulder, pushing up to his full height again. Choso peers up at his brother, sniffling as he wipes his cheeks. Choso grabs his little brother’s hand as they make their way into the living room.

Before they can begin getting their shoes on, Sukuna makes his way to the table. “Hey,” he mumbles as he swipes his thumb across the material of the two twine black bracelets waiting there. “These, uh-” he pauses, turning to his brothers. “These’re for you.” He holds out the two black bracelets, watching the waterworks begin to flow as Choso’s unable to hold in his sobs.

As Choso rushes forward to hug Sukuna’s leg, Yuji watches uncertainly, looking to Sukuna for guidance. “It’s okay, Yu. You’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures with a weak smile. Yuji nods slowly, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as he hugs Sukuna’s other leg.

As the buzzer goes off, the brutish man’s forced to waddle to the landline connected to the front door with the two boys glued to him.

“We’ll come to you,” he gruffs through the phone, hanging up without allowing them building access. Setting the phone back down, he pats Yuji. “Go get your bags.”

It takes a moment before Choso follows suit, but eventually he helps Yuji get his backpack on before they’re both stationed at the door. Choso’s body silently trembles as they stay put while Sukuna carts the boxes down first, leaving the cardboard outside the front door without a word to Kaori or the two social workers she’s brought to tag along.

With all four boxes waiting outside, Sukuna pulls Yuji into his arms, balancing him on his hip, taking Choso’s hand. His hand is wet with the evidence of his sadness and fear as Sukuna painstakingly drags his family down to the first floor.

When they reach the outside with Kaori in sight, Choso shakes violently, pressing himself against Sukuna as he hides himself from the woman who he no longer feels any familial love for.

Sukuna scowls, fury in his eyes as he regards Kaori, but he holds his tongue. He’s here for his brothers now. This isn’t about him. He needs to make sure the social workers see only dedication.

Kaori gasps, approaching slowly as she takes in the sight of her children. “Yuji, hi sweetheart. Goodness, you have your father’s hair.”

Sukuna sucks in a breath through his teeth as the five-year-old looks between Sukuna and his mother. “Is that Momma?”

It takes Sukuna a second too long to answer, leaving Kaori the time to butt in. “That’s me, darling,” she smiles sweetly, but Yuji’s gaze doesn’t leave Sukuna.

Sighing, he nods.

Confirming Sukuna’s suspicions that he doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, Yuji’s eyes widen as he outstretches his arms. “Hi, momma!”

Kaori takes Yuji from Sukuna’s arms, hoisting him up. “Hi, Yuyu. It’s so good to see you again,” she replies with a grin, tapping his nose with her pointer finger. She turns her attention back to Sukuna, then. Choso is peering out at her from behind Sukuna with a deathly grip on the fabric of his older brother’s button-up. “And little Choso, look at you! All grown up.”

Choso mumbles out a “hi”, tugging hard enough on Sukuna’s shirt that he’s nearly choking the man.

“Come on out, honey. I want to see my baby.”

Choso doesn’t move an inch.

“Go on, Cho,” Sukuna mutters, casting a glance at the social workers watching the interaction carefully.

His heart twists as Choso cranes his neck up at his brother, his eyes flickering wildly around Sukuna’s face as he silently begs for help.

Frowning, Sukuna sighs as he lowers himself to Choso’s height, opening his arms. The little boy buries himself in Sukuna’s arms, shaking hard as he audibly sobs. The tattooed man’s eyes flicker shut as his brows knit together.

“Cho, listen to me.”

The brunette’s sobs simmer down as he pays attention to Sukuna’s quiet words, low enough to keep Kaori from hearing.

“Do you trust me?”

He feels his little brother nod against his shoulder.

“Then trust me to fix this shit.”

Choso nods again, sniffling as he hugs Sukuna harder. “I love you, Kuna.”

Sukuna’s chest tightens as his resolve threatens to break then and there, the threads he’s tightly woven fraying at the ends. “Love you too, Cho.”

The brunette boy takes a step back, shaky hands slowly unraveling from Sukuna’s now-wrinkled dress shirt. Choso’s reddened eyes flicker wildly around Sukuna’s stoic face, nodding slowly when he spots the intent and commitment behind his eyes.

He turns towards his mother, muttering out a barely audible “hi,” again as he takes her outstretched hand.

Kaori smiles as her eldest child takes her hand. “Thank you for being cooperative, Sukuna dear. I really wish things didn’t have to be this way,” her smile turns mocking as she directs her gaze back towards him.

His lip curls into a snarl. “Don’t push it, Kaori.”

“I do hope you have the time to focus on your studies now,” she offers in a fake attempt at sympathy, like every other interaction they’ve ever had.

Pushing past her comment that borders on condescending, Sukuna keeps his voice even in an effort to keep Kaori from seeing through the cracks in his facade. “See you in two weeks.” He knows visitation won’t happen, but he wants to remind her at every turn what she’s taken away from her children and step-child.

“Oh, of course, dear! See you then,” she smiles, tilting her head slightly as her eyes crinkle at the corners with the weight of her faux cheer.

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as Kaori turns to walk away while the social workers aid with the boxes.

It’s then that it seems to settle in for Yuji what’s going on. Still sitting in Kaori’s arms, he faces Sukuna now when she turns around. As his brother gets further and further from him, his concern grows.

“Kuna?” He calls, only a short distance away. “When will our trip be over?”

Sukuna shuts his eyes tightly, a pending headache settling at the edges of his mind. Of course the trip reassurance would come back to bite him in the ass. He opens his mouth, but he struggles to find the words to assure his brother when this whole situation goes over the little boy’s head.

He can only sit there dumbly with his jaw ajar.

“Dunno, Yu,” he answers, settling on honesty. There’s no reassurance left for him to give that doesn’t border on a lie. Even the idea of calling it a trip bordered on a lie to begin with, but what other option was he left with? The poor boy is simply too young to grasp the gravity of his own situation, by no fault of his own.

The little Itadori devolves into pure panic, contorting his body in an effort to get away from his mother as he screams and panics, reaching desperately past Kaori’s shoulder for his brother.

“KUNA!” He cries with such a rasp to his voice that Sukuna feels the pain it caused. “Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t-” his voice breaks as he wails and sobs out unintelligible words.

Sukuna brings a hand up to his mouth, dragging it down his prickly chin as he watches the scene unfold. Yuji fights Kaori with every ounce of power he has as she attempts to shush and soothe him, but it’s to no avail.

“I don’t wanna go! Don’t make me!” He bawls, pushing against his mother to reach for Sukuna.

He looks to Choso for guidance, but the brown-haired boy is trembling at Kaori’s side in his own fit of tears, worsened by Yuji’s manic state.

“KUNAAAA! S’KUNA!” He calls out again, writhing to push back against the woman whose arms he’s held in. “PleASE!” His voice breaks, his vocal cords beaten to a pulp with all the crying and screaming he’s done over the last few days.

The closer they get to the awaiting car, the more Sukuna feels everything crumbling around him. The world slows even further if that’s at all possible, a cloud covers the sun. He half-expects it to start raining just to really stick it to him. Even the wildlife holds its breath as they watch.

Rooted to his place, Sukuna keeps his demeanor steady in spite of the overwhelming urge to throw up whatever sits in his stomach. His skin feels heavy, like he doesn’t belong within it. He wants to shower in hopes that it’ll rid him of the feeling.

His guilt, his fears, and his failures twist and turn in the pit of his stomach, heating him up from the inside out as if to burn him alive.

It would be a kinder fate for a hole to open up in the ground beneath him and swallow him whole. Watching his brothers suffer feels as though it’s a cruel divine punishment for every misdemeanor he’s ever committed.

“Kuna plea-ea-EASE!” Yuji cries out with each sob that parts his lips as one of the social workers helps Choso into the waiting car. Kaori has to fight against Yuji’s flailing limbs in her attempt to buckle him into the awaiting car seat.

“No! NO!” Yuji screams, pushing back against her the entire time that she attempts to buckle him in.

Both kids are barely in sight at this point, hidden behind tinted windows and Kaori herself as she struggles to buckle in her child. Sukuna’s head falls, his gaze stuck on the ground before him as all he can do is stand in place and watch, listen.

“Let me go!” He screams out, prying himself from her grip as he attempts to slip past her.

“Yuji, this isn’t appropriate behavior, honey,” she scolds. She manages to catch him before he can slip away, adjusting her grip on him so that she can lift him easier. As she hoists him into the air, his sobs and cries only continue, growing raspier by the moment.

“NO!” He screams out, writhing against her grip. He reaches out for Sukuna, whose gaze lifts to catch a final glance at Yuji when- “DAD!”

Sukuna’s lips part, his eyes widening as every muscle, every nerve, every thought, every goddamn bone in his body screams at him to move, but he can’t. His body runs cold, his blood freezing in place as the world presses in around him. His knees go weak, vision blurring. He can’t say whether it’s the blur of tears or the nausea steadily setting in.

All he knows as the car engine starts up and gradually fades into the distance is that at some point his knees gave out, and the discolored spots dotting the concrete beneath him are the tears he can’t feel himself shedding.

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❦ a/n ; hey everyone, thank you sm for reading as always <33 the support on this continues to be so wonderful and i can't thank you all enough for that 🫶

the angst just keeps on coming 😭 i won't blame anyone for calling me a monster for that last scene either, that devastated me to write

i'm posting this from out of the country so forgive me for the strange update time :)) since i'm away i also won't be able to respond to asks or comments very quickly but know that i absolutely will be reading them as they come in and they never fail to put a smile on my face <33 i'll reply whenever i have a moment, though! you guys are the best and i appreciate each and every one of you 🫶

anyway, thank you so much for the love, and i hope you all have a great day/night <33

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

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starmapz · 4 months ago

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what you know - ch14: trials || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 23.4k.

❦ a/n ; this serves as a bit of a part 2 to the previous chapter and picks up right where the previous one left off! sorry for the wild word count LOL. i'll see you at the bottom!

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Sitting in your passenger’s seat, Sukuna finds himself missing his old beat-up car. It clicked if you turned the axle too far and rattled at every stop light. One of the brake lights flickered but never quite went out. It was barely street legal, but it got him from one place to another.

It got his dad to appointments and hospitals. That was what mattered the most.

There was a certain sense of freedom that came along with having a car that Sukuna can’t help but feel he’s lacking now. Still, it’s not so bad being your passenger.

Although the ride is mostly silent apart from your music quietly playing, he finds himself able to sort through his thoughts while staring out the window. It’s not a particularly long ride, but it gives him the chance he needed to come to terms with the dirty game that Kaori is playing with this lawsuit.

Clearly she’ll stop at nothing to tear Sukuna’s life to shreds and take his brothers from him if it’s the last thing she does. Him and his lawyer just need to find an angle that lets them win without pulling dirty tricks like she is. The last thing Sukuna needs are more fees or even charges on his record.

He still can’t figure out Kaori’s angle, either. She isn’t on social media as far as he can tell, her name doesn’t pop up online. She doesn’t want the kids for the money obviously and he can’t wrap his head around the idea of her actually wanting her own kids.

Which is fucked.

His fingers tap on his thigh as he contemplates how this all stems back to one moment.

He wonders how different his life could have been had he not gone looking for Kaori at his grandfather’s funeral. Maybe even Choso and Yuji’s fates could have been different.

The car comes to a halt in a quaint strip mall parking lot, with only another car or two in the lot alongside yours. Sukuna blinks as he glances around. He vaguely recognizes the area from when you’d first spent time together working on your project at your apartment.

It feels like a lifetime ago now that you listened to The Eagles on vinyl while working on your research project.

Getting out of the car, you stretch your arms up above your head. “I hope it’s good,” you comment, casting him a glance as you lead the way up to a plain door with the restaurant logo across the front. Sukuna hums in agreement.

Within the small shop, there’s a cozy and homely warmth that surrounds you, the smell of broth wafting through the air. The lighting is soft and warm with slats of vertical wood separating each small booth along a wall with ivy green paint beneath the wood. A couple of decorative lanterns adorn stylized chandeliers in each booth, and a counter with stools runs along the farthest wall.

A waitress approaches you both and kindly asks whether you’d prefer a booth or the bar. Sukuna gives you a nudge to let you decide, and the waitress leads the way to a small booth in the very back of the restaurant. The atmosphere is welcoming, though the booth provides enough privacy that you can comfortably converse with one another.

“This place is so cute,” you comment as you both shrug your coats off. You’d almost forgotten how painfully overdressed you are as you look down at your white blouse, which is equally as unfortunate. You’ll just have to be careful not to spill.

Across from you, Sukuna hums as he pulls at the knot of his tie before slipping it off and unceremoniously shoving it in his suit pocket. He can’t say he particularly cares about whether it has wrinkles or not. After all, the next time he wears it will be-

Shit. He’s not sure he’s ready to think about that, yet. After all, they need the house study back before they can prepare. He has time. He can relax and enjoy his time with you.

He needs to live in the moment and try not to think about the dull future that plagues his mind. He needs to let himself relax for the first time in what feels like months.

To keep yourself from watching the painfully attractive way that Sukuna pulls at his tie and undoes the first couple of buttons on his shirt, you busy yourself with the menu. “The tonkatsu sounds good,” you comment.

Rubbing his eye with the back of his knuckle, Sukuna finally picks up the menu, holding it back far enough to see it without squinting as he searches for what you’re talking about. “Sounds good,” he agrees quietly, casting a glance over the menu to stare at you as he struggles to find common ground to chat with you. It’s not like his curt answers are helping, but the small talk you’re spouting to fill the dead air isn’t doing either of you any favors.

Clearing his throat, he sets down the menu. “I’ll just get the gyoza.”

Flipping back a page to take a look at the item on the menu, you eye him suspiciously. “Sukuna, that’s the cheapest thing on the menu and it only comes with three. Get what you want,” you urge, finding it hard to contain your smile as he glowers when you see right through him.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll get the curry ramen.”

“Good,” you hum, pleased.

As both menus are set down, the waitress returns to take your order before you find yourself staring at the soy sauce left at the end of the table. The dead air sitting stagnant between you burns at your skin, lapping like flames against the balance between you. Where once there was easy conversation, a void has been left in its place. Prior to your fight, there was rarely a moment where neither of you knew what to say. Even the silence was usually warm and inviting, but the trepidation left in the wake of uncertainty here doesn’t speak to what once was.

In an effort to fill the silence, Sukuna mutters out a question before he has a chance to think.

“How’s the conspiracy theorist prof been?”

Mild amusement pulls at the corner of your lips. “We had a whole class where we discussed the death of Edgar Allen Poe,” you chuckle as you lean over the table.

Blowing a breath of air out of his nose in a wry laugh, Sukuna leans his chin on his hand, his elbow bent over the table. “What’d she land on?”

“Rabies,” you shrug.

He hums. “More plausible than some of her other theories.”

“I still think it’s more likely to be-”

“Alcoholism.”

“- alcoholism.”

Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the corners as familiarity finally finds its place back within the void, filling it out just a little bit. You giggle as he finishes your sentence in the same moment that you do. “It’s the only cause that has any footing!” You insist happily, beginning to go over the ways that you claim it ‘just makes sense’.

Sukuna’s muscles relax as he listens to you, chiming in occasionally to offer his opinion or add in something his dad had once mentioned on the subject. His tongue glides across his lower lip as he watches the way your lips move as you speak, your eyes crinkling at the corner each time you giggle. He’s only pulled from his stupor when the food arrives.

A large bowl with chopsticks and a spoon is placed in front of each of you, the steam of the warm broth billowing in the air between you. Your mouth waters at the smell alone as you thank the waitress and pick up the chopsticks. Sukuna follows suit, taking a bite of some noodles.

“Everything you hoped for?” He gruffs between bites.

“Um-” you hesitate, “yeah, it’s good!”

“But?”

“It’s a bit salty,” you pout.

“It’s ramen.”

Your brow furrows, playfully offended at his dry tone, as though you don’t know that. “It’s saltier than I usually get, is what I mean,” you retort, raising your brow playfully.

His eyes flicker between your bowls before he pushes his towards you. “Try mine,” he insists.

Your lips purse, giving in without complaint. His food has a bit more of a kick to it and considerably less salt, but the flavor is downright divine. Your brow raises, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you like it more.

Smirking, Sukuna pulls your bowl towards him, exchanging the dishes. “Keep it.”

“What? Are you sure? I really don’t-”

Sukuna takes a bite of your ramen and nods.

Your hands hesitate in the air, still not quite sure what to make of the switch. Sukuna’s never been one to particularly care what he’s eating, but this strikes you as just plain sweet. “Really, it wasn’t that salty-”

“Princess,” Sukuna sets his chopsticks down, finishing his bite of noodles, “eat your damn food.”

You shoot him one last hesitant glance before relenting. Your brow knits together, a shy smile finding its way to your lips. “Thanks,” you murmur as your cheeks heat up. Surely from the heat of the soup.

Surely.

Before you can insist on swapping food again or something else Sukuna would consider foolish, he brings up a new topic, something that’s been nagging at him since he realized how much of a dumbass he’s been, and continues to be.

“How’s Toji?”

He’d seen and heard from Uraume fairly frequently, though he continued to keep them in the dark about the lawsuit. Every day that goes by, thoughts consume him about whether or not that’s the right option, and every day he struggles to find a reason why he continues to keep it a secret from them.

The truth is that he’s a coward. He can’t bring himself to tell them because it’s been so long that he fears they’ll find a reason to walk out of his life. Though his feelings surrounding Uraume differ greatly from those that involve you, he’s not sure how well he could manage without them either. He’s so deep in the hole he’s dug for himself with this lawsuit that he’s not sure he could blame them if they blew up at him for his spineless decision. Hell, he’d let Uraume dig the hole deeper for him and bury him alive if they so pleased.

Maybe Uraume and Toji could even tap their shovels together in a ‘cheers’ of sorts with the amount of secrets Sukuna’s kept from them both.

“He’s okay,” you shrug. “He asked me about you.”

Sukuna pauses, noodles dangling from his chopsticks as though he didn’t expect that in your reply.

“He was pretty upset,” you continue, hoping to share enough to help them mend their friendship while respecting Toji’s boundaries. Though you’ve grown closer to Sukuna’s childhood friend over the past couple of months, he’s definitely more of Satoru’s friend. You certainly don’t know him well enough to be confident recounting his exact words to Sukuna.

Setting his chopsticks back in the bowl, Sukuna stares down at his scattered reflection on the surface of the soup. “Shit,” he mutters simply, letting the silence linger.

Finishing up your bite, you tilt your head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You two were best friends, weren’t you?”

Sukuna leans back in his booth, crossing his arms over his chest. The shoulders of his suit jacket crease as the sleeves pull taut and accentuate his muscles. “Dunno. We just didn’t talk about shit like that, and…” he shrugs, finding your gaze with no definitive reasoning to offer.

You frown, Toji’s reaction coming to mind when you’d parroted that exact phrase to him a couple of months ago. ‘That was his excuse?’ Over the course of two months, you’d thought maybe Sukuna’s response might change just as the man himself has. “Don’t you think he would have wanted to know?”

“‘Course he would’ve,” Sukuna agrees, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t think about it,” he shrugs again, searching for some sort of reasonable answer where there is none. He just didn’t tell Toji. He didn’t want to be around Toji and he didn’t want to talk to Toji. There’s no grand reason why, Toji never did anything to upset Sukuna. The simple fact of the matter is that Sukuna had so much on his plate, that all reason fell to the wayside. It was never Toji’s fault, and had it not been Toji, it would have been someone else. Sukuna didn’t want to be around people at the time.

Sensing that you aren’t getting anywhere with this conversation, you bring up another question that’s been plaguing your mind since Sukuna brought it up at the case conference. You pray it doesn’t piss him off for one reason or another but he’s been more reasonable lately so you don’t feel like you need to step on eggshells around him as much. “Hey, Kuna? Um-” You pause, setting your chopsticks down. “Where did you find Kaori at your grandpa’s funeral?” You query, watching the way his eyes snap to you at the mere mention of the question.

His jaw clenches as he sits up, fiddling with the bottle of soy that sits between you. He stares at it like it’s done a disservice to his family, huffing as he explains in the simplest terms what had happened. “I was a kid, like fourteen or some shit. Kaori was…” he raises his hand, motioning at nothing in particular as he searches for words. “She was fine. She never really cared to be involved with my life, n’ my dad kept things pretty quiet between ‘em until she got pregnant and he proposed.”

He takes a moment, huffing at nothing in particular as he pulls his hand back from the soy sauce, his fingers curling into a fist. “Found her with her fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off as his voice cracks, his expression hardening as anger courses through his veins at the mere thought of his step-mother. It’s been so long since he’s crossed paths with the thought of what he’d discovered that afternoon. He’d almost forgotten just how vividly his mind can still conjure that image, bringing with it the disgust and self-reproach he’d longed to forget for so many years.

You don’t hesitate for a moment to reach across the table, settling your hand over his fist the moment his distress becomes apparent. With one simple movement, you seem to dissolve the void between you. The uneasy silence tapers off as things become familiar once more.

He’s not sure he’ll ever grow accustomed to your kindness. How is he meant to convince himself that he’s allowed to be selfish, to take, when he has so little to give in return?

Yet even as guilt festers in his stomach and he scowls down at the place where your hands join, he still lets his fingers relax, flipping his hand upright to gently rub his thumb across the second joint of each of your fingers. Your skin is warm, soothing the chilling sensation of the memory.

Re-centering himself, Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh. “I found her tongue-fucking my uncle in some corner,” he hisses, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Your lips part in shock, the realization settling slowly as your stupor morphs to revulsion. Putting together his words from the case conference earlier, you blink in further surprise. “You didn’t tell your dad?”

Sukuna’s fingers glide through yours suddenly, his much larger hand finding a place around yours as he clasps your hands together, your fingers intertwined. Your gaze shoots to your entangled hands, unable to make heads or tails of the action as heat rises from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears. You can blame the soup all you want, but you know the truth.

You’re used to Sukuna seeking comfort within you, but there’s something deeper to this. Something you don’t know how to explore with the man, and something you don’t dare bring up as he’s opening up to you.

It doesn’t matter how fast your heart hammers in your chest, or the way that blood pumps loudly behind your ears. The mixed signals, the confusing push and pull that seems to go hand-in-hand with the brute across from you, none of that matters with the air heavy with the weight of a confession long kept behind bars, never shared with a soul.

Even Toji doesn’t know, of that you’re certain.

So, you swallow hard and put your focus into his expression, something akin to guilt, averting your attention away from the warmth of his hand as best as you can.

“I couldn’t,” he admits, a look of disdain clouding his vision. “Kaori was fine for the first few years that I knew her. She was a good enough mom to Cho and sometimes me when she wanted to be,” he shrugs, a bitter snarl tugging at his lips. “Funny. She had us all fooled.”

You nod slowly, just to tell Sukuna you’re listening.

“The week before my grandpa died, we had freshman year finals. I fucked up-” he breathes, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. “Failed all four in my last semester. Wasn’t doin’ anything important, I was just bein’ a dumbass.” He shrugs, his grip on your hand tightening. “They were gonna hold me back n’ I didn’t wanna be apart from Toji or my friends, so him and I broke in.”

“To the school?”

He shoots you a look that you recognize. One that says obviously, though he keeps his mouth shut, continuing without answering your question. Now’s not exactly the time to be teasing you over what’s just your way of showing you’re listening.

“The plan was fucking stupid from the start. Thought we could change my grades without my dad or the school knowing. Dunno, I was a kid. It made sense to us back then.” He scoffs at his own ill thought-out plan. “I got arrested. Made sure Toji got away, didn’t want his family goin’ off on him so I covered for him,” he shrugs. “They had to call a guardian, so I gave ‘em Kaori’s number.”

Your head tilts and even in the midst of the heavy air, Sukuna wants to scoff at the way his blood pumps faster. “Weren’t you close to your dad? Why not call him?”

Sukuna nods slowly in acknowledgement. “We were close, yeah, but he was a teacher and I was smart, got good grades n’ shit. He was the type who didn’t really get mad, just disappointed, which was worse than whatever I thought Kaori would do.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing,” he sighs, leaning his chin on the ball of his free hand over the table. “I never got charged, and she bribed the school into passing me, actually. It was cool of her at the time.”

Your lips purse as you listen intently. It’s a lot to take in, though you did always picture Sukuna and Toji being the type to pull a stunt like that given that you know about Sukuna’s days trying not to get caught with an incriminating can of spray paint.

“So, you didn’t tell him because she did you a favor?” You confirm with a furrowed brow. Favor or not, you’re not sure you could keep a secret like that from your parents.

But neither could Sukuna. “Fuck no,” Sukuna chuckles dryly, tensing his jaw. “I went to tell him the moment I saw her. It woulda been cruel to tell him at the funeral, but I thought it was worse to keep it from him.”

You nod intently.

“That-” His teeth are gritted as he cuts himself off, choosing his words wisely around you.

Though honestly, she’s deserving of the title he clearly wants to give her.

“She fucking blackmailed me,” he hisses. “Chased after me n’ told me she’d have the school charge me and fucking fail me,” he growls, the crease between his brows so harsh that you almost think he might give himself a headache.

Pulling his hand away from your grip, he leans back in the booth once more, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “The fuck was I supposed to do, fail? I was terrified of disappointing my dad,” he shrugs. “I got my shit together the next year, but christ, she fucking played me. I didn’t know how my record worked back then either, getting charged with a crime when you’re fourteen or some shit feels like the end of the damn world.”

In a rare moment of genuine vulnerability, a look of innocence settles in his eyes, fleeting. You often forget just how young Sukuna was when his life got turned sideways. Even his teenage years sent him through a turmoil you can’t begin to imagine. With all his rough edges and hardened lines, it’s easy to forget that the man in front of you has a soft inside so full of a genuine love for his family and even for life. That flame got taken from him bit by bit before he ever got the chance to nurture it, stuck quelling his own desires in order to make ends meet.

Though he pulled away from your hand, you find his foot beneath the table with yours, gently nudging it. “You didn’t tell him after she left?”

He uselessly throws his hands up in a shrug, his tired expression increasingly obvious in the warm overhead light of the ramen shop. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. I think…” he trails off, inhaling sharply, “at some point I realized he was gonna die, and I didn’t want him to think his wife didn’t love him at the end.”

Your lips part, jaw hanging slightly ajar at the weight of his confession. His sorrow grips your stomach, twisting it as your expression falls. “I’m so sorry, Kuna.”

He eyes you for a moment, choosing not to reply.

The silence stretches on, your hand remaining where he left it on the table when he leaned back. A part of you wishes he would take it again so that you can offer him silent comfort, pushing down the lingering yearning that comes with such a tender action. His mind seems to be elsewhere though, his eyes glazed as he stares distantly at the decorated wall beside him.

Letting the moment linger, you find yourself pulling your hand back to stir your nearly forgotten soup. It’s still mildly steaming thankfully, which you’re grateful for given the cold weather. Less fortunately, your stomach wrenches at the thought of eating under the weight of Sukuna’s admission hanging heavy in the air.

“Do you think you could bring that up at the trial?” You query quietly. Although the judge had shut it down today, it does have pertinent information about Kaori’s character.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it doesn’t look good on either of us. I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, was just pissed,” he grumbles, scratching his jaw. With a deep sigh, he returns to his soup as well, taking small sips of the broth in an effort to not let the food go to waste, though he’s equally as uneasy as you are.

“Was she like that a lot? Blackmailing you and… stuff?” You wave your chopsticks through the air as you both pick at your food.

“Somethin’ like that. She just stopped pretending to give a shit, I guess,” he shrugs. “Wasn’t just me, either. Choso too,” he sighs, his brow tugging into a scowl. “Mother of the year,” he grumbles with a dramatic wave of his chopsticks in mock celebration.

If anything, it only leaves you with more questions about why she’d want the kids. Sukuna makes it sound like she didn’t care back then, what could have changed now? Of course, there’s the possibility that Sukuna could be wrong, but it seems unlikely given Kaori’s track record and her behavior earlier. The lies she’d told under oath at the courthouse may have slipped past the judge, but you saw through her.

The way she looked at you, as though you were a pawn in some game sends a shiver up your spine.

Nudging his foot as he sips a spoonful of broth, you catch his attention again. “Is she always so… ” You trail off, coming to the realization that you don’t know exactly how to describe the way Kaori acts.

He hums questioningly. “What, fake?” He asks, watching as you raise your spoon to your lips.

“Yeah, like…” You pause, holding your spoon out in front of you. “I don’t know, too sweet and caring?”

Sukuna scoffs, a hint of amusement skirting the edges of his tone. “Since the funeral, yeah.”

Poking the inside of your cheek in thought, you contemplate whether any details from Sukuna’s past could be used in the trial, but Kaori or her lawyer always seemed to have some well thought-out refute for every time Sukuna attempted to bring up her track record.

It’s almost strange, in a way, to think about how easily the judge seemed to decline any objections from Sukuna’s lawyer.

Nudging your foot to bring you back to the present, Sukuna gruffs out a “hey,” catching you off-guard. As your body jolts in surprise, your spoon tilts and the broth spills across the front of your painfully white blouse, the warmth seeping through the material. The squeak of shock that you let out sends concern rippling through Sukuna’s entire being like lightning.

“Shit,” he breathes, standing abruptly and offering napkins as he averts his gaze from the outline of your bra that’s now startlingly obvious. His gaze rounds the table as though in search of something that might fix the situation. “Fuck, did it burn you?”

Blinking as the initial shock passes, you shake your head. “Oh- um, no! No, it’s just warm.” And thank god for that, had you not waited a bit before eating, this likely would have been a hell of a lot worse. Reaching for the napkins Sukuna offers, you dab at the stain, chewing on your lip at how glaringly obvious it is, and even worse, how see-through your blouse is. You consider putting on your winter coat, but between the warm soup and heated building, that just might melt you.

Great.

Coming to the same conclusion that you have, Sukuna slips out of his suit jacket without thinking, wordlessly handing it over to you. Gratefully taking it from him, your cheeks heat up once more at the sight of his jacket draped over you. You can’t help but giggle at the way it absolutely dwarfs you in size. The sound of your laughter puts the man across from you at ease.

Between how painfully cute you look giggling in his suit jacket and the smile he has to physically fight off at the sight of you adorned in his clothes, Sukuna finds himself able to take a seat, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said blood wasn’t flowing south too.

A thought crosses his mind. Something that he’s been running from, but he sets it aside. He shouldn’t even be considering the implications behind his heart’s pounding or the smile he finds himself chewing on his own cheek to fight off as he hides behind his hands. What he needs to focus on right now is your well-being.

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself as he keeps running from that familiar thought. He knows it’s cowardly, but he’s not sure he’s in the right state of mind to face it.

“You alright, princess?” He asks from behind his hands, composing himself.

“Hm? Yeah, don’t worry! It wasn’t hot. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” you reply with a small smile, unbothered.

Your friend hums from across the table. “You have an unhealthy relationship with hot liquids.”

Your brow furrows as you hold his jacket around you to prevent the see-through patch from being visible. “Since when?” You can’t recall another time you’ve spilled around him.

“The oil,” he reminds you.

Your lips purse as you scour your memory, brow shooting up as the image of an employee passing you with a bucket of oil passes through your mind. The feeling of Sukuna’s arm effortlessly holding you off the ground sends an equal amount of heat through your cheeks as the embarrassment of the near-incident itself. “Oh yeah,” you murmur, quickly scowling to deflect his accusation. “That was so long ago!”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, no longer hiding his smirk now that he’s fallen into familiar territory with you. “Ya still needed to be rescued, though,” he pokes fun at you.

Groaning playfully, you give him a light kick to the shin under the table, causing his smirk to shift into a full-on grin as he chuckles at your expense. “You’re such a dick!” You insist.

“Mm, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Rolling your eyes, you return to your ramen, careful not to spill, lest you get teased further.

Though the more you think about it as you catch glimpses of Sukuna’s mild and easy smile as he eats, maybe you wouldn’t mind making a fool of yourself if it means he’s in a good headspace. Especially given the day he’s already had, there’s satisfaction to be found in seeing Sukuna laugh.

The real Sukuna.

The one that makes your stomach flutter and your heart flip.

It hurts in a way that you’re not quite prepared for, a way that’s painfully lonely in spite of being across from the person that you never quite stopped loving.

Bittersweet, you keep the tone light as easy conversation settles between you once more. Even if you hold onto your cautious inhibitions, there’s relaxation to be found in the shared warmth. “Toji told me you used to do a lot of graffiti.”

He scoffs, amused. “Been a while, but yeah.”

“He said you used to tag all the basketball courts you hung out at.”

Humming, Sukuna nods as he slurps up a noodle. “Mhm. Courts, tunnels, n’ old trains.”

“So what did you usually tag things as? Like, your name?”

Sukuna’s content smile falters, a pale pink shade dusting his cheeks. “Somethin’ like that.”

A grin slowly spreads across your lip. “Is it embarrassing?” You ask, leaning in. He glances up at you, pointedly taking another bite to avoid your interrogation. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. You know I named myself ‘Flower’ in Animal Crossing.”

His brow raises. “Weren’t you like five when you played that shit?” He retorts.

“Yeah, but…” you trail off with a shrug. “Come on, please Kuna?”

And when you tilt your head like that, your eyes gleaming like he’s a masterpiece to behold, who is he to say no?

With a drawn out sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “The King,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes shut to avoid your judgement. And for good reason as you fail miserably at fighting your grin.

When you don’t reply, he finally peeks an eye open, regretting it immediately when you break, a fit of giggles taking over.

Clicking his tongue, he rolls his eyes dramatically. “It’s not that bad,” he grumbles.

“It’s not, it’s not!” You insist between giggles, coughing in an effort to cover them as he stares at you in disdain. “It’s just… so you.”

“The fuck does that mean?” He gruffs.

“Just-” you pause, covering your lips as if he won’t be able to tell you’re still struggling not to laugh. “- I don’t know! It’s just exactly what I’d expect from you.”

“Then what’s so funny about it?” He scoffs, glowering across the table.

“Kuna,” you stare at him expectantly, as though he should just know. “Come on, you were- what? Sixteen? When you came up with that, right?” You query, met with a hum of agreement. “It’s just- it’s cute!” You insist as Sukuna continues to scowl at you. “It’s just- funny to picture a little Sukuna who thought he was really cool for that.”

His brow twitches, his hardened expression cracking. Of course Sukuna thought he was cool. He couldn’t just be ‘King’ either, no, he had to be The King. He snorts at the thought, bringing a hand up to cover his face as he chuckles. Your giggles turn into a full blown outburst of laughter that’s even contagious for Sukuna as he finds himself hunched over the table at the thought of a time long past.

Your shared laughter is musical, filling the air with a fondness that’s been missing from your lives for so long you both thought it was lost. Each moment spent basking in it, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down just a little bit more.

“I wish I could have seen one of your tags,” you grin, eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. “I guess it was a long time ago though.”

His tongue runs along his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh to stop himself from smiling and giving away his secret.

“No way.”

He stares at the wall, his cheeks now painted in a pale rose as he leans on his elbow. His hand muffles his words as he attempts to cover his smile with it. “I think there’s one that’s still there.”

“Sorry, what’s that?” You tease.

Shooting you a knowing look from his peripherals, he makes a show of huffing. “You heard me, princess.”

“Where is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses.

“Come on, please?”

“No,” he grumbles behind his hand, turning to face you finally as if in a challenge.

“I’ll ask Choso.”

His confidence falters as the gears visibly turn in his mind. He actually can’t remember if Choso knows, but there’s a very real possibility that he does. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the model brother and Choso was there for a decent chunk of his time spray painting random alleys and trains. Choso was just happy to be there with his brother, unaware of the criminality of his older brother’s actions.

With a sigh, he drags his hand over his face in defeat. “Y’know the skate park two stops past work?”

“I think so.”

“I figured out how to tag the ceiling under the bridge, it’s probably still there.”

“Oh my god, we have to go after work sometime,” you gasp in delight.

He opens his mouth to say no, but the words die in his throat at the sight of you grinning with stars in your eyes. This is the most normal things have been with you in the past couple of months, and now you’re the one asking to hang out. Not out of pity or to help his brothers. Not for work, or school. Blowing a puff of air from his nose, he relents. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want,” he grumbles, though even for all his grumbling, the warm look in his eyes says otherwise.

That same warmth spreads to his chest as you beam at him with a triumphant ‘yesss!’, one hand clutching your spoon as you return to your soup while the other holds his suit jacket over yourself. It drapes over your body like a dress, it's so long. The shoulders of the jacket droop, your form nowhere near as broad as his, yet somehow you make it look intentional. As though his jacket belongs to you and it always has.

His bowl of ramen sits empty as he finds his attention drawn to you. As you finish what’s left of your soup, his mind wanders. The reality he’s been running from seems to draw closer, seeping into the edges of his mind with each passing moment.

But along with it comes a guilt that settles like stones in his stomach.

“You’re still bein’ too nice to me,” he blurts out.

When you meet his gaze with a raised brow, you shake your head. “Is that a bad thing?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question, your kind way of telling him that you want to be nice, but self-sabotage is his closest friend. “You’ve always been too nice to me. After all the shit I pulled, you’re still-” he just shakes his head, his gaze drawn to the small remaining pool of soup at the bottom of his bowl. In the depths of the dish, he finds his reflection staring back at him once more, distorting each time either of you shuffle or knock the table.

With each distortion of his own picture, he finds himself frowning. It makes him look older, somehow. As though he’s grown weathered and worn. It’s been so long since he lost himself that each glance at a mirror serves as a reminder of the missing pieces of himself, fracturing in the ripples of the soup beneath him.

Maybe that’s why he clings so desperately to you and his brothers. You carry pieces of him that he recognizes, while he’s nothing more than a shadow of what once was.

“Kuna,” you scold lightly as you recognize the look in his eyes, giving his foot a nudge and capturing his sharp gaze. “Stop it.”

You know you don’t need to elaborate, he understands. He knows the multitude of meanings behind your words. The guilt boiling at the pit of his stomach isn’t so easily swayed, though. “Just thought you’d learned your lesson.”

You laugh lightly, humoring him. “Oh, I did,” you affirm. His brow raises, the distance in his eyes clearing just enough to find intrigue in his gaze. “If you’re a dick on purpose again, I’m not sticking around to be treated like that,” you smirk, your tone too warm for the words that slip past your lips.

Amused at both your choice of words and your confidence, Sukuna snorts. “Good,” he hums, shoving his bowl aside in hopes that his dreary thoughts will go along with it. “Keep it that way. The confidence looks good on you, princess.” No matter the circumstances he finds himself in, he knows he wouldn’t- couldn’t- dare to say such outright hurtful things to you again.

Heat rises up your neck like a wildfire, averting your eyes in an effort to fend it off. Luckily, the waitress returns to the table and shields you from Sukuna teasing your shyness as you ask for the bill. She returns a moment later and lets you know to pay at the front.

“Ready?” You hum, bracing your hands on the bench. When Sukuna nods, you push yourself out of the seat, brushing down Sukuna’s suit jacket before handing it back to him with a sweet ‘thank you’ as you throw your winter coat over your stained blouse.

Heading to the front of the shop, you pull out your card as the waitress prepares the keypad, but before you can move a muscle, Sukuna slots his card into the reader.

“Sukuna, what? No-” you reach out in an attempt to pull his card away. “I told you I’d pay. Ah-!” An involuntary squeak leaves you as Sukuna pulls your hand away from his card and uses a strong arm around your shoulders to slot you against him, holding you away from the machine. Even as you claw at his bicep and struggle against him in a fit of giggles and protests to let you go, he effortlessly holds you in place.

It’s such an obvious display of his muscles and you’re painfully sure he can feel the heat radiating from your skin given how close his arm is to your collar and neck. And really, how are you not supposed to think about his stupidly buff arm when the veins are right in your vision?

Asshole.

When he finally releases his grip and you stumble forward, fixing him with a pout, he just smirks at you.

“I was gonna pay!” You insist.

He shrugs. “Ramen won’t break the bank. It’s worth it for you.”

Any protests die in your throat as all you can do is blink at him. Your lips purse, his words settling in your mind.

Had he just said that it’s worth it, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it, it’s the way he specified that it’s worth it for you. Sukuna returns to his business like it’s nothing, tucking his card into his wallet and shoving his hands in his pockets, but it takes you a moment to follow after him as he pushes back out into the cold.

The brisk air hardly even hits you. Sure, it’s gotten a bit warmer, but that’s not what you’re focused on when the intonation behind Sukuna’s words only leaves you shocked, and worse, confused. You know your friendship with him runs deeper than most that he bothers to foster and you hold a place within his life that he’s willing to fight for, but this strikes you in a way that your usual banter and nudges don’t.

It brings you back to the way you’d been stunned when he intertwined your fingers in a way that felt so real.

You remember his rejection all too well, and yet… Now you’re not so sure how he feels. Maybe you’re reading into things too much, maybe this is all part of him earning your trust back, but your racing heart wants to think otherwise.

Maybe it’s all just a sick delusion.

Swallowing hard, you push aside your thoughts as you crawl back into your shell, the sudden realization of something altogether confusing leaving you scared. “Do you need a ride?”

“Nah,” Sukuna replies, the face of stoicism. He digs into his pocket, setting a cigarette between his lips. “Gonna walk to the kids’ school n’ wait. It’ll give me some time to think,” he gruffs, his voice muffled from the cigarette. His lighter clicks as it ignites, the ashen edge of the cigarette glowing like a firefly.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“See ya, princess.”

–

The office is quiet come Tuesday. Even Yuki only stole about ten minutes of your time, mostly to complain about the fact that she’s still not done with Baby Whale, and she’s absolutely sick of it.

And really, who can blame her?

Finishing up your work, you send it over to Yuki for review and approval, met with an immediate pout from her as your email pops up in her inbox right away. With an innocent smile, you’re just about to offer to take something off her plate since you’re a bit ahead of schedule when Maya pings you with a request to come see her.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to her office with dread twisting your gut.

She likely just has a question, but there’s something stressful about being summoned to your boss’ office no matter the occasion.

Or maybe that’s just how your brain works, finding worries in the least likely of places.

Knocking, you push into Maya’s office with a polite smile, casting a glance to the side at the sight of Sukuna manspreading in a chair across from Maya’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his forearms, the veins protruding over rippling muscles with his sleeves pushed up. God, he’s distracting.

His aloof stare falls flickers to you before he fixes his attention on Maya again.

“Hey,” she greets, sitting up and clasping her hands professionally. Something about the momentous air in the room doesn’t settle your nerves as she addresses you. “Sorry, Sukuna and I were just finishing up his one-month review,” she explains as she hands him some paperwork. You can’t make out how it went based on either of their expressions. “While I have him here, I figured I’d call you in as well. The client pushed the due date forward on Lee’s Adventure. How far along are the edits and cover? They want them by tomorrow but I don’t want to push either of you,” she explains.

“I finalized the edits this morning, Yuki just needs to review. I can take some of her work to balance her workload,” you offer.

“Gimme an hour and the cover’s done,” Sukuna replies mildly.

“You two are lifesavers, thank you,” she sighs in relief. “I swear, as soon as we finish this, I’m done with this agent,” she grumbles. “Send me the cloud file once it’s uploaded, Sukuna. I’ll wait for Yuki and let her know you’ll take something from her.”

Once dismissed, you stretch your arms overhead as you make your way out into the main office. The moment Sukuna shuts Maya’s door, he turns towards you. “Coffee?”

Huh, you hadn’t even realized he didn’t bring you one today. “Don’t you need to work on the cover?”

“I finished it last night,” he dismisses with a smirk. “Come get coffee with me.”

You can’t help the bubbly laughter that comes with the realization of why he asked for an hour, nodding. You both make pit stops at your offices before making your way out the front door. The snow has mostly cleared and it’s finally warm enough to be in a spring jacket rather than a winter one. With the weather finally easing up, it’s nice to be outside again. No breath billowing out in front of you as your ears and the tips of your fingers freeze, just a light breeze that rustles your hair.

There’s a shop only a couple of blocks from the office that you’ve only tried once when you got to work a bit early that you had enjoyed. It’s not Sukuna’s usual choice, but his order is about as simple as it gets, so surely it can’t be too bad no matter where he goes.

“You go first,” he urges as you arrive, letting you tell the cashier what you’d like. He steps forward and requests a black coffee, playfully shoving you aside in the process because he knows you well enough to know you were about to try to pay.

“You have to let me pay for something,” you groan in mock disdain.

He shrugs, not even offering any words.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Thanks, Kuna.”

He hums in acknowledgement, handing your drink over as it slides across the counter.

Once his arrives, he leads the way to a table and slides down in the chair, taking a sip of his coffee. He sighs at the familiar taste, grateful to finally get some caffeine in his system to keep him awake.

“So, how’d your review go?” You ask, taking slow sips of your warm drink.

“Pretty good,” he nods, glancing off to the side in thought. He seems tired again, though given that you both thought the trial was last Thursday, the kids probably did too, which really would only extend Sukuna’s troubles. “I guess the fucker who thought you were his personal assistant complained, but other than that she seemed pretty happy.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “Reggie’s the worst. He’s so full of himself.”

Yawning, your friend shrugs again. “Whatever. She didn’t really seem like she cared that he complained.”

“That’s good at least. I don’t think anyone really likes him, so-”

You cut yourself off as Sukuna begins digging in his pocket abruptly, scowling at his vibrating phone as he processes the name on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

From your perspective, he continues to glower at nothing in particular as he listens to whoever’s on the other line. He hums or grunts in reply, though he doesn’t offer much for insight until something seems to catch his attention.

“What?” He growls, hackles raised as he’s suddenly sitting upright. “It shouldn’t be ready for weeks.”

More silence as Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, tousling it. “The f-” he cuts himself off, adjusting his phrasing, “what does it say, anyway?”

You take a sip of your coffee, trying to give him privacy, but it’s hard when you left your phone at the office and have no distraction beyond your surroundings.

He sighs heavily, waving his hand uselessly through the air in exasperation. “Gotta be kidding me, of course it does.”

Huffing as he continues to listen to the caller, his frustrations quickly explode into full-blown fury. “How? You said we shoulda had fuckin’ weeks, how is that fucking possible?” He barks.

Your eyes widen at the sudden change in tone. The tattooed man casts a glance around the cafe before abruptly standing and pushing out the door to continue his conversation outside. Choosing to give him privacy, you stay in your seat, watching with concern as he throws his hands in the air in disbelief from outside the window. It takes a few minutes before he hangs up and dumps his phone into his pocket. He throws his head back, dragging his hands over his face and remaining there for a good minute before swinging the cafe door back open with enough vigor that it meets the wall behind it.

Sukuna plops down in the chair across from you, picking up the coffee he’d left on the table and downing it in one go. Your brow raises as you regard him with concern.

Before you can voice your concern, Sukuna speaks up. “What’re you doing tomorrow morning?” He asks tersely, his gaze fixated on the paper cup in his grasp that he’s struggling not to crush in his own bout of irritation.

“Um-” you hesitate, scouring your mind for anything important. “Just classes, why?”

“The fuckin’ trial’s tomorrow.”

You recoil in horror, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Fuckin’ Kaori,” he hisses. “Fucking snake put an urgent push on the date and I guess it only needs twenty four hours’ notice,” he growls, the cup in his hand fracturing under the weight of his hold. He sets it down on the table before whatever liquid’s left in the paper cup drips onto his gray slacks. “Can’t believe they’re letting her get away with this shit.”

“Wouldn’t she need, like, evidence or something to make it urgent?” You shake your head quizzically, trying to make sense of the sudden weight placed on Sukuna. It had only been a handful of days since he’d come to terms with the fact that he had more time and now the rug is being pulled out from under him as fast as it had been laid out.

Sukuna shakes his head and shrugs at once. “I don’t fuckin’ know.” His tone is disdainful as he harshly rubs his hands over his face. “She paid for a rush on the house study and it should have been done in a few weeks instead of months, not a few fuckin’ days,” he snaps, not directed at anyone in particular.

“You don’t think…” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you bring up something that’s been gnawing at you.

“Yeah, I do fucking think this shit is rigged,” he finishes your thought, pushing a hand through his salmon locks. He exhales heavily, eyes alight. “Fuck, I just told the kids things were okay and now I’m a fucking liar, and she’s fuckin’ cheating somehow, I- I don’t-” his anger and anxiety begin to blur, the lines separating them beginning to converge as his leg bounces beneath the table.

The fire in his eyes is quickly extinguished by fear as he considers what his next twenty four hours will look like.

You can’t watch despair take over without stepping in. Reaching across the table, you offer your hand. “I’ll be there. Class doesn’t matter. What time?”

He turns his attention to you, his eyes flickering between your face and your outstretched hand. “Ten thirty,” he grumbles, cautiously reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Thanks, princess.”

With a sympathetic smile, you nod.

“Shit, I gotta…” he trails off, inhaling sharply. “I gotta get home n’ meet with the lawyer,” he mumbles, his day immediately cut short by none other than Kaori.

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you capture his attention again. “Do you want some tea or something before you leave?” You offer, recalling how fast he downed his coffee.

Sukuna nods hesitantly. “Another coffee would be nice,” he mumbles, standing before you can move. “I can get it, though.”

“Let me get you this,” you plead as you push to your feet.

He takes a moment to examine the determined gleam in your eyes before giving in. “Sure.”

With a new cup of coffee in hand shortly afterwards, he thanks you quietly as you begin the short and tense walk back to work. The morning had seemed so easy barely a half hour ago, and now you can’t help but think that you took that sensation for granted.

Silence follows you as you let yourselves back into the building, quietly following Sukuna to his office while you stand in the doorway as he begins packing up.

“Don’t forget to send that cover to Maya,” you remind him.

He mutters a curse under his breath, the dark circles under his eyes painfully apparent as he pulls his laptop back out and quickly sends the files over to your boss.

Once he’s finished packing up, his coffee in-hand, you stop him before the door with a hand on his forearm. He regards you with a look that breathes only exhaustion.

“It’ll be okay,” you reassure him.

Despite the swirling anger and anxiety living within the crimson oceans of his irises, something stronger breaks through when he steels himself as he replies. “I know. I won’t let her fuckin’ win.”

You offer a smile, grateful for the resolve that he continues to nurture despite his own doubts. His brothers need him, and he’ll play the role he needs to in order to win the trial, no matter how much he feels as though he’s at his wit’s end. You can only pray he holds himself above water long enough to keep himself from drowning.

“Good luck, Kuna.”

He examines your expression for a moment, simply nodding as he pulls away from your grasp and slips out the front door without a word.

–

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you stare in the mirror. It’s funny, the way you’d felt so prepared for this day for so long, but now that it’s here, it sits like a molten lava in your stomach. It churns and sears at your insides, unsettling you to your very core. If this is how you’re feeling as a bystander, you can only imagine the way Sukuna’s feeling right now.

They’re not your family, not your brothers, but they’re dear to you. All three of them.

Running your hands down the front of your black pencil skirt, you nod to yourself in the mirror. Fiddling with the sleeve of your (now stain-free) white blouse, you gather your keys and throw on a nice coat and professional plain black heels.

Even the thought of listening to music doesn’t seem right on the drive to the courthouse. Your mind is filled with trepidation, your finger tapping idly at the leather steering wheel as you opt for silence on the way there.

The world around you seems to hold its breath as you step out of your vehicle, your heels landing on fresh pavement. The birds overhead are silent, although a pair of crows eye you from their perch atop a tree. The air is suffocating, and you long for the relief that the end of this hearing will surely bring.

Your gaze falls on the large wooden doors at the front of the familiar stone building with flags at either side. The sheer size alone is imposing enough as is, but the cool and smooth exterior of the monotonous building does no favors to ease your stress. You would almost think they want you to be nervous upon arrival.

Pushing through the doors, you’re reminded that the inside is no better. After making it through security, there are very few windows, the artificial overhead lighting beating down on you as though it’s passing its own judgement. A large reception desk sits at the center of the room, alongside a pair of hallways on either end of the lobby. Evaluating the vaguely familiar room, you find the person you’re searching for fairly easily, his hair standing out in the waiting crowd with Ms. Harte sitting silently beside him.

The click of your heels alerts Sukuna to your presence before you take a seat beside him. He’s dressed to the nines, but you don’t have the luxury of appreciating just how good he looks given the gravity of the situation. When he lifts his head, you find yourself frowning regardless. His eyes are little more than an endless sea of doubts, stress, fears, and misery. There’s a distance glazed over his eyes that suggests he’s not all there right now, hanging on by a thread.

He’s worn so thin that even the sight of you doesn’t ease any of the thoughts running through his mind. He’s gone over the case so many times with his lawyer in the past twenty four hours that he’s not sure he even can be any more prepared, yet he still finds himself feeling vastly underprepared. The short notice in particular claws at the very flesh of his being, as though Kaori is personally taunting him.

“Hey.” Your voice is soft as you offer him a smile, but your nerves are evident in the twitch of your brow. His pupils slide slowly from your face down to your wrist, where he can faintly see the red and purple twine bracelets hidden beneath your semi-translucent sleeve. You may be here in part to support him, which he appreciates more than you could ever know, but he knows the gravity of this situation affects you too, given how much you adore his little brothers.

He almost regrets ever dragging you into this part of his life. The only reason he can even dare to put the word ‘almost’ in that thought is because if he ever dared to express that, you’d chew him out. He thinks he’d let you without so much as batting an eye either, because he needs you.

“Sukuna?” You softly call out to him and his gaze finally raises from your wrist once more to meet your eyes. He examines you for a moment, his finger twitching as he longs to reach out. He longs for the comfort the warmth of your soft skin brings him, but his own self-doubt plagues him down as though he’s wading through mud. He barely has enough strength to keep himself afloat, let alone to dare ask for something.

He knows he’s made leaps and bounds of progress in your relationship over the last few weeks, but as he braves the fog of his mind, he can’t seem to make sense of the lines that separate you anymore. He can’t bear the thought of overstepping.

As is, there’s already a risk he loses his brothers. He can’t lose you, too.

Not again.

Clearing his throat, he gruffly pushes out a reply. “Hey.”

Your brow furrows, “Do you need some water?” You offer, sure you can find somewhere to get him some.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m fine.”

You both know well that it’s a lie. Neither of you are fine.

The dejected tone he speaks in doesn’t do him any favors, either. To think this is the same man you met so many months ago almost seems like a joke. Usually so full of pride and bravado, the world has stomped out every last flame that once made up the stubborn brute. He seems almost like a shell of his former self.

It’s strange, when you consider what you’d just told Shoko last week, that Sukuna seems more like himself. The more you think about it, now you’re not so sure. It’s as though his own life is beating him down into a person that you wonder if he even recognizes.

Your heart twists at the thought that somewhere along the line, the man sitting beside you lost himself.

He lost you, he lost himself, and now he’s at risk of losing what’s left of his world.

It only makes you more furious with his step-mother. You don’t see her or her lawyer on this side of the waiting room, and thank god for that. The look of control she always bears makes your skin crawl.

“How are Choso and Yuji?” You keep your voice low as you check in on your friend and his brothers.

Sukuna sighs quietly. “Uraume’s with ‘em. Couldn’t get them to go to school. When I told ‘em what was going on, Choso…” He just shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“He shut down?”

Sukuna hums in thought. “No, I think he’s tryin’ to listen to you.” He shuffles in his seat, sitting up. Tugging at his collar and tie uncomfortably, he cracks his neck. “I just dunno what to do. He’s outside my door tryin’ to talk every few minutes, but I-” With a shrug, he shakes his head again. He knows you get him. He doesn’t need to tell you that he doesn’t have a way with words, you know.

“He just needs you to be there for him. You don’t have to say anything.”

The crimson of his eyes seems to swirl with doubts as he examines you, but he finds it in himself to nod, slumping back in the chair once more.

“How’d the house study turn out?” You query, hoping that will at least help his case.

Shakily sighing, he tilts his head in a ‘so-so’ manner. “No issues with the house,” he states, his gaze fixated on an empty chair in front of him. “But they looked at the kids’ mental health as well, and Yu’s went fine but Cho…” he shakes his head with a sigh, knowing he doesn’t need to spell it out for you. “Good news is they gave us a record of what both kids said and asked ‘em both about me and Kaori.”’

“That should help,” you agree, thankful that even if Choso is too young to testify, at least the kids’ opinions are taken into account to some degree.

“Yeah…” He agrees, though he doesn’t seem to share your optimism, his gaze still painfully distant with the weight of his ambivalence.

Unable to keep his mind on-track for a conversation, he inhales sharply as the tense silence of the courthouse surrounds you both. The closer the time strikes to ten thirty, the more the air seems claustrophobic despite the high ceilings and large, open lobby. With each second that passes, Sukuna finds his leg bouncing quicker, his mind racing faster, and his heart damn-near pounding right out of his chest.

Every muscle in his body is rife with tension, and his chest could implode at any second given the burden that claws at his lungs. He can only sit with his hands clasped in his lap, acting as though the taste in his mouth isn’t so vile that he could wretch.

Quietly drowning, he doesn’t dare to even cast you a glance. As though every mistake he’s ever made with his brothers isn’t already crashing through his mind like a wave, he can’t bear to consider the ones he’s made with you.

But you’ve always been too sweet to him.

In a silent show of support, your fingers glide across the skin of his clasped hands, settling atop them. You run your thumb gently over his knuckles, the warmth of your skin soothing the frigid water that threatens his lungs. The sympathy on your features would frustrate him if you were anyone else, but from you, it doesn’t taste so bitter.

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. His leg gradually stops bouncing as your thumb continues to softly brush his skin. He casts you a grateful glance despite his silence, too afraid of ruining the moment and losing the one thing keeping him sane.

It’s funny, really. Or maybe funny isn’t the right word. But Sukuna remembers a time where nothing scared him. He remembers being the type of kid who would dive headfirst into a fist fight with someone bigger than him just because they bumped into him.

He’d even gotten off lucky once when he’d thrown a punch at some rich kid tattling on him for skateboarding in a park where it was prohibited, but he’d narrowly missed and slammed his fist into the wall. Why is that lucky? Because the money Jin had to spend fixing Sukuna’s fist is nothing compared to the money he could have spent on a worthless lawsuit. That was also one of the first times Sukuna had ever experienced the true shame in being at the center of Jin’s disappointment.

It’s also the single moment in his life that decided that he would call Kaori rather than Jin when he was arrested.

But Sukuna’s world has flipped on its head, and that’s not who he is anymore. He doesn’t have the luxury of throwing reckless punches at the wall.

He needs to be better, for his brothers. He wants to be better and build a world where they can have what Sukuna couldn’t.

He casts you a glance. You’re part of that world, too, though he struggles to identify what role it is that you play.

“Case number 2493, Sukuna versus Itadori.”

Sukuna’s head whips up to face a man in a full suit standing at the edge of the waiting area with a woman dressed equally as pristinely at his side. He recognizes them as the bailiff and court clerk, ready to lead the way to the family courtroom and staring expectantly at the waiting crowd.

Ms. Harte gets to her feet, leading the way with a confident gait. She greets the court clerk and bailiff with a professional smile while waiting on Sukuna who’s much slower to get to his feet. He pulls his hands away from you, brushing his suit down and adjusting his tie. He loosens it slightly, but the choking feeling he’s experiencing isn’t the tie at all.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he glances back over the chair as though he might be forgetting something, before following after the lawyer. Although your nerves are more subtle than Sukuna’s, you find yourself following his lead, brushing down your outfit as though your presence has any bearing on the case.

From the opposite side of the waiting room comes Kaori in a flawlessly fitted suit and pencil skirt with a new obvious display of wealth sparkling in the overhead light as it dangles from her neck with matching earrings to boot. Her confidence is picturesque with not a single hair out of place. Her lawyer, Mr. Cahn, stands as proudly as ever beside her in a navy suit, equally as prepared as she seems.

You’ve only seen her once before, for such a brief period of time as she drove Sukuna through hoops in an effort to take her children from him, and yet were this not a courthouse, you would have words for her. Choice words. You didn’t know back then the lengths she was willing to go through to ruin Sukuna’s life, and now you can only wonder what more is in store.

You’re not one to raise your voice, nor start fights, but she’s caused so much needless pain and suffering to those three brothers, that you find yourself wanting a fight. You can only imagine how Sukuna feels about her as you catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s sending her way.

She’s lucky his lawyer warned him to stay on the judge’s good side this time around.

In your mind, she’s the textbook definition of a monster, so her kind and somewhat sympathetic smile cast in Sukuna’s direction as she approaches immediately strikes you as fake. Much like every other nicety she’s thrown his way over the past week.

Sukuna’s hands ball into fists at his sides as the clerk ushers your parties to a courtroom simply labeled as ‘four’. The clerk pushes his way into the small room, helping both parties get situated at separate tables before the judge’s bench as he and the bailiff take their own seats.

The room is smaller than what you’ve seen in the movies. There’s very little room to move around and apart from the flags that hang at the door, the small room is painted only in dull and somewhat dark tones of cream and walnut. There’s still no windows, the sterile overhead lights being the only source of light and painfully so. The artificial feeling of the room does no favors for your nerves.

The clerk leads you to the small section of gallery seating behind Sukuna as the only viewer of the case, though you suppose that family law likely doesn’t get many spectators, so it figures that you’re alone. Still, the uncomfortable chair doesn’t add any layer of comfort.

Both lawyers quietly discuss the case with their clients while awaiting the arrival of the judge. Ms. Harte emphasizes courtroom rules to Sukuna before quickly going over the points she expects Kaori to use given the documents that had been provided by the opposing lawyer during their latest disclosure of evidence and the case conference last week. Among the evidence is a variety of photos, school records, and much to Sukuna’s dismay, evidence of every transgression plaguing his troubled childhood.

Every. Single. One.

His lawyer had assured him she didn’t see this being an issue given how old most of the documents are, but he’s still little more than a hulking mass of tension, while the opposing party on the opposite side of the room is the picture of confidence. That serves to make you more nervous, but Sukuna’s been the kids’ guardian for so long that there’s no way he can lose.

The door to the courtroom creaks open as a tall man in a gray suit enters the room. As Sukuna recognizes that the trial is about to begin, he inhales deeply, casting aside as many of his doubts as he can to present himself as one thing: determined.

For a moment, you even think you see a glimpse of the confident bravado Sukuna once wore back when you first met. It may be a mask he wears to keep up the appearance of his resolve, but a sliver of that mask bears a resemblance to the Sukuna you recognize.

He can do this.

The bailiff stands at the entrance to the room, straightening as she presents the judge. “Please rise. The Honorable Judge Martinez is now presiding.”

The judge runs a hand through his graying hair, which seems as though it may have been black once, as he takes a seat at the head of the room. His calm and authoritative emerald eyes slide across the room, taking in the scene before him and lingering a moment too long on Sukuna for your comfort. You can only hope he isn’t judging Sukuna’s ability to parent his brothers by his appearance.

That presumes anything but a fair trial, and given that Sukuna already suspects some sort of foul play on Kaori’s end, that doesn’t bode well for him.

Everything about this experience seems to differ from your expectations, as though everything you’ve seen in movies and TV isn’t quite right. Or maybe that only applies to family court, you can’t be sure.

The judge pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket, setting them on the bridge of his nose as he reads a brief summary of the case before him. As he wasn’t present during the case conference, all evidence will be new to him, which works in Sukuna’s favor as well given his outburst towards Kaori.

“Please be seated,” comes the bailiff’s instructions. Crossing your legs, you bite your lip as the hearing begins.

Judge Martinez addresses the room. “The court is now in session. We are here to address case 2493, Itadori versus Sukuna, for custody over the children Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori. This is in regards to social file number 34785-98. I will be directing this case myself.”

Sukuna’s stomach flips in dread. Coming up on four years of taking care of them on his own and it all led to this. He wants to spew curses at his step-mother, to chew her up and spit her out wounded and bleeding, but he doesn’t dare break his calm facade. As far as anyone in this room needs to know, he’s a picturesque guardian to his brothers.

“Ms. Itadori, as the applicant in this case, we will open with your counsel’s statement.”

Kaori’s lawyer rises, bowing to the judge. He runs a hand through his well-kempt beard before beginning. “Thank you, Your Honor. My name is Richard Cahn and I will be representing the applicant, Ms. Kaori Itadori. My client is applying for full custody of these children as the biological mother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori. Due to unfortunate circumstances regarding her health, Ms. Itadori was unable to care for the children after the passing of her husband, Jin Itadori, however she has since fully recovered and is now capable of providing for the children.” Her lawyer pauses, casting a glance at Sukuna, who keeps his eyes straight ahead in an effort not to break. “We acknowledge the important role Mr. Sukuna has played in their lives as their half-brother, however his actions have demonstrated that he is still young and not fit to take care of two children at this time.”

Judge Martinez nods in acknowledgement to the opposing party, motioning to Ms. Harte on Sukuna’s side. “I would like to hear from the counsel for the respondent.”

Sukuna’s lawyer stands, and you’re grateful for her confidence, because you’re struggling to share it. At least Sukuna is keeping up his confidence. Ms. Harte introduces herself in the same manner as Mr. Cahn, before beginning her statement.

“Your Honor, my client, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, is the older half-brother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori and they have been in his legal care for the past three and a half years. Mr. Sukuna has raised them since Mr. Itadori fell ill and you will find that he has successfully provided stability, a safe home, and a positive environment for them over the years. While we acknowledge Ms. Itadori’s blood-relation to the children, they have shown an overall preference for their older brother, and I would like to ask that you consider what is in their best interest for this case.”

The judge nods upon hearing both opening statements. He scans the legal paperwork beneath his hands before rattling off a series of legal rules to the room. He goes over the procedures for the hearing, making a point that he would not like either party interrupting, and that he will direct the conversation. He explains that he will begin with the applicant, to have the respondent act as such- a responder.

After ensuring his instructions are clear, he allows the bailiff to call the first witness to the stand, Kaori herself. Sukuna had inquired about having you be a witness, but his attorney advised against it as your relationship with one another wasn’t set in stone or easy to describe and could serve as a detriment against an opposition like Kaori. As such, both parties had disclosed that their only witnesses would be the two guardians themselves.

There’s no witness stand for Kaori to move to in the small family courtroom, so she simply gets to her feet. Politely clasping her hands, she takes a vow to tell the truth, swearing herself in, and bows to the judge.

With Kaori now prepared to answer questions, her lawyer rounds the table to stand closer to the judge as he presents himself to the grander room. “Ms. Itadori, please explain the reasoning behind your inability to take guardianship of your children upon your husband’s passing.”

With a nod, Kaori smiles politely. “When my husband passed away, I had recently taken a job overseas to help provide for our family. It was a difficult decision to leave, however I felt it was for the best to prepare for our future. I was made aware that my husband was sick after my departure and we spoke daily, however I didn’t receive any notice that he had passed away for quite some time. I tried to reach out, but never heard back.”

Sukuna’s nails dig into his palms beneath the table at the blatant lie, but he does everything he can to keep his expression neutral. At the end of the day it’s her word against his, he can’t afford to tarnish the judge’s view of him.

“I had booked a flight back when I didn’t hear back after a couple of days, but I became quite ill out of nowhere. Um-” She pauses, her mask of confidence slipping for just a moment as she glances down at the table before her. “Here are my medical records and the flight ticket receipts.”

Her lawyer takes the documents, presenting them to the judge, who lays the paperwork out before him. He scans them briefly, motioning with his hand. “Please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I only recovered late last year, otherwise I would have started this process much earlier. I love my children and I regret missing such a large portion of their lives.”

Mr. Cahn nods in approval at her testimony. “Please testify to the statement made that Mr. Sukuna is unfit for guardianship.”

Kaori nods, clearing her throat. “Of course. My step-son didn’t reach out when my husband passed away, and I was distraught to find that he had taken custody of my own children after learning of my husband’s passing. I helped raise Mr. Sukuna since he was nine years old, but he always caused problems. I have school records as evidence of his poor grades and misdemeanors.”

Her lawyer passes the documents along to the judge as she continues

“And here’s a photo Ryomen took with my son Choso which shows him trespassing in a train yard committing property damage. Not only is this inappropriate behaviour, but my son is very impressionable and this unacceptable.” She clasps her hands in front of herself, keeping up her responsible and caring appearance. “How is Mr. Sukuna meant to be trusted as a guardian, when he has demonstrated his poor abilities to care for my children as a babysitter?”

Sukuna’s mask of neutrality begins to break as he’s just about ready to pull his own hair out. A fucking selfie from when he was sixteen. Come the fuck on. Although he’s already seen all of her evidence, it’s hard not to be irritated with the woman when she’d held onto his records all these years later. He’s certain she did it for no other reason than to hold them over his head if she ever needed to.

“I’m aware these are older, however I don’t believe his behavior has changed. Before serving him with this case, I was going to talk to him about discussing this in a more civil manner, however I didn’t feel safe leaving my kids with him when I found him smoking outside of his apartment with someone while my kids were alone upstairs.”

Sukuna shuffles in his seat, but he can’t recall whatever Kaori is talking about. It’s not like he would have left them for long, he was right outside. If he were to guess, he was likely with Uraume if he was smoking with someone and it was before the lawsuit. It probably wasn’t you.

Kaori glances back down over the evidence on the table in front of her. “I would also like to bring attention to Mr. Sukuna’s employment. His lawyer provided us with his records, and he was working two jobs, while also attending college. This is irresponsible for my children’s well-being and wouldn’t allow him any time to be home with them. He would need to leave them in the care of other people, or even alone, rather than being with them himself.”

The worst part about this trial for Sukuna as he’s forced to sit in silence, is not being able to scream from the top of his lungs that at least he was there at all. Kaori can claim she was sick all she would like and Sukuna can’t refute that, but he sees through it.

“For those reasons, I would like to suggest that full custody is returned to me, as their mother. My husband and I have prepared rooms for both boys and we have the money and time to provide for them.”

Sukuna’s head whips towards Kaori, scanning her left hand. Sure enough, a rock as extravagant as the necklace she’s flaunting sits around her ring finger. Husband? Since when? That hadn’t been in any of the documents that had been provided to Sukuna and Ms. Harte. How had she had the time to get married if she was supposedly so sick?

He swallows hard, staring at the table in front of him. Surely the judge can see the holes in her logic just as Sukuna can.

Does she really just hate Sukuna that much that she can’t bear the thought of having a conversation with him to solve this?

That’s a useless thought, though. After everything that’s happened with her, Sukuna wouldn’t have handed over custody. It’s not what his brothers want, and he can see now more than ever that this isn’t in their best interest. He’s been trying to convince himself for months now that he’s a good guardian, but for the first time it’s glaringly obvious. Kaori is lying through her teeth, even after taking an oath, but Sukuna can’t refute any of her lies, he has no proof of anything.

Every word from Kaori is coldly calculated to take Sukuna down and his gut twists with each lie she tells.

He can’t figure out for the life of him what her angle is, either. What does she want them for? She clearly didn’t want them to begin with, so what the hell changed?

And worse still are Sukuna’s fears that Kaori is somehow manipulating the outcome of the trial. He needs to put his faith in the system, but it’s not easy when he has to watch her lie so outlandishly with such confidence, only to receive a nod from the judge.

Before her lawyer can speak, Kaori chimes in one last time, tilting her head towards Sukuna as she feigns motherly love for her step-son. “I appreciate everything Mr. Sukuna has done for my children, however he’s young, he has no support, and he has no experience raising children. Mr. Sukuna has always struggled with his emotions, as documented by his school records, and I don’t believe he can provide the emotional support my children require, particularly Choso.”

Emotional support. There it is. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Like she knows just how to hit him where it hurts.

The weight on Sukuna’s chest bears down harder on him as she points out his shortcomings. He knows. He knows. Fuck, he knows. But it’s still better than what she can offer. It takes every ounce of Sukuna’s concentration to keep reminding himself of that. He won’t deny that he’s young and inexperienced in raising children. He won’t deny that he was horribly ill-prepared at first.

But he was there. He wasn’t perfect, he still isn’t. But he was there and that has to count for something.

“Ms. Itadori, can you comment on the urgency of this case?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

“Absolutely. We pushed for a rush of the house study due to my concerns for my oldest son’s mental well-being which that study confirmed, however upon being on the receiving end of my step-son’s behavioral issues last week during and following the case conference, I felt that it was important to place an urgent rush on this trial.” She grimaces as though this is some sort of grave and unfortunate ordeal for her.

Her lawyer nods in approval once again, all lines from both people in their party clearly rehearsed to a T. “That is all, Your Honor.”

The judge motions to Ms. Harte accordingly. “Thank you, Ms. Itadori. I would like to invite the respondent’s attorney to cross-examine the witness.”

Ms. Harte stands, confidently rounding the tables. Her heels click across the hardwood floor as she finds a place before Kaori. “Ms. Itadori,” she begins, “you claim that my client did not reach out upon your husband’s death, can you comment on the records that I provided your party detailing his efforts to reach out?”

“May I see these records?” The judge chimes in.

“Of course, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte agrees, handing over the paperwork.

“I do see here that Ryomen reached out, however none of my contact information here is right. I had moved recently and swapped to company-owned devices when I received a promotion at my job,” Kaori confidently explains. Her drawl carries an air of arrogance, as though nothing could possibly break her air-tight testimony.

“How could that be? Why would your step-son not have your proper contact information?”

“As I mentioned previously, Ryomen has a record of delinquency and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to step in and police how my husband chose to parent him,” she explains with ease. “We communicated very rarely after I left, and I didn’t have his number on-hand to reach out when Jin wasn’t replying.”

Sukuna’s lawyer pushes further. “Can you still say that you helped to raise Mr. Sukuna and know him well if you weren’t willing to step in as a parent?”

Kaori nods. “I did everything I could to appeal to Ryomen. I was there for every holiday, I took him to his driver’s test, and would take him shopping. My husband and I decided it was for the best that I tried to only create good memories with him since he wasn’t fond of me for a while. I believe for a while, he saw me as a threat to the attention he received from his father.”

Ms. Harte doesn’t so much as stutter as she continues to question Kaori. “If you weren’t willing to step in with Mr. Sukuna, why should the court believe you’ll do so with Choso and Yuji Itadori?”

“Those are my children. I’m comfortable parenting them how I believe is best, and I know their needs well.” she attests, her form straightening. “My children need their mother.”

Ms. Harte shakes her head. “Can you say that you know their needs well when the house study details not only that neither child remembers you, but also that their preference is for my client’s guardianship?”

The judge flips through the documents submitted to the court laid out in front of him, nodding in acknowledgement once he’s skimmed the children’s statements.

Yet Kaori always seems prepared. “I acknowledge that they were both young when I took a position overseas, and I have reason to believe that the preference towards Ryomen that they have stated is purely for that reason. Given the opportunity, I know they would thrive in my care,” she states confidently. “They’ve only chosen Mr. Sukuna as they don’t know what it means to be outside of his care.”

Sukuna’s lawyer mentally resets as Kaori rebounds easily. Addressing the room as a whole as she continues. “In addition, I would like to request that the documents provided by the applying party regarding my client’s educational misdemeanors be disregarded, as nothing is dated within the last four years.”

The judge regards Sukuna quietly for a moment before nodding. “Sustained.”

Ms. Harte bows politely. “Thank you, Your Honor. Additionally, I would like to ask that claims of Mr. Sukuna being seen outside of his apartment are disregarded as hearsay, as my client does not recall this.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up, taking a stand. “I would like to ask that the court considers that a guardianship case is primarily hearsay, especially in circumstances where the children are too young to testify. Would Mr. Sukuna’s claim that he doesn’t recall this moment not be equally considered hearsay?”

The judge takes a moment to consider this, before clasping his hands together. “I agree. Your request is overruled,” he addresses Ms. Harte. Sukuna rolls his shoulders in his seat, crossing his arms to mask his irritation.

It’s not like there haven’t been small wins and pushes in Sukuna’s favor, but the cards seem to fall ever in Kaori’s favor, no matter how hard Ms. Harte and Sukuna fight.

“Very well, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte relents, clearly frustrated by this outcome. “In any case, I would like to ask that Ms. Itadori provides further information on this claim.”

“Of course,” Kaori smiles easily. “I arrived from overseas on September 4th, and went to visit my step-son on the sixth in the evening, which is when I witnessed him smoking with someone.”

“Do you have any evidence the children were home at the time?” Ms. Harte queries.

Kaori hesitates for a moment, the first crack in her confidence that sends a wave of relief through both you and Sukuna. “No, but I have no reason to believe they were somewhere else either.”

Ms. Harte nods, moving along. “You mentioned that you and your husband will be able to provide for the children. If you were unable to reach your phone due to illness, when did you have time to be married after your husband Jin’s passing while ill?”

Kaori cracks once more, hesitation crossing her features for the briefest of moments. “We met prior to Jin’s passing, and he supported me through my grief and sickness. Our ceremony was days before I returned to see my children in September and our honeymoon has yet to happen. Everything has happened very quickly,” she explains.

Sukuna sits upright in his seat, blinking at the realization that while she may not have admitted it, there’s no fucking way she didn’t cheat on Jin. Again. Sukuna grits his teeth hard, the pressure in his jaw tightening until he’s physically holding back a snarl. Sukuna can live with the ways she wronged him, but to smite Jin in his final days? He wants nothing more than to put her in her place.

But all he can do is sit in silence while Ms. Harte moves along, Kaori’s response is too sound to question further. “Ms. Itadori, you claim that Mr. Sukuna’s work schedule wouldn’t give him much time to be with the kids, however as outlined in the documents provided to your lawyer, you can see that Sukuna has recently taken a new position to allow himself more time with them.”

Kaori shoots a glance at the paperwork in front of her, nodding. “I see that, however his resume doesn’t give me confidence that he’s able to keep that job. He doesn’t seem to hold onto anything for much longer than a year, and that same document says that he recently dropped out of college.”

Unperturbed, Sukuna’s lawyer presses. “He put the children first over his own desires. Does that not show a dedication to these kids?”

Kaori considers this for a moment, casting a glance at her lawyer, though he nods confidently as though they’ve gone over the possibility of this coming up. You wonder if she’s even speaking in her own words, or if everything is a premeditated response, practiced. “It does, however I’m concerned for his ability to provide for my sons if he’s unable to hold a job or schooling. By dropping out, he’s also limited his career options,” she points out. “He doesn’t seem to have the qualifications for his current position, either.”

Sukuna stiffens at the mention of college, his leg inadvertently bouncing again under the table. He’s not sure if it ever stopped shaking, really, or if he’s just now noticing it again.

“There are more ways than just school to climb within the workforce nowadays, Ms. Itadori. Additionally, my client has proven more than capable of providing for the children financially by any means necessary. He’s shown his willingness and dedication to them through his actions,and has never once been unable to pay rent, keep food on the table. I do hope that the court will consider that money isn’t everything.” She turns to face the judge, politely bowing. “That is all, Your Honor.”

Ms. Harte returns to her seat beside Sukuna, where he’s waiting with white knuckles as he braces himself on the arms of his chair, preparing to testify.

The bailiff thanks Kaori, willing her to sit. She then turns her attention to Sukuna, giving him the opportunity to testify as well.

Sukuna turns to his lawyer briefly for assurance, before he pushes to his feet. Rolling his shoulders and smoothing down his suit, he takes the same oath of truthfulness as Kaori. He prays that neither the judge, nor the opposing party can hear the shaky breath he takes before Ms. Harte pushes him to begin his statement.

“Your Honor, Ms Harte,” Sukuna addresses the judge and his lawyer as he begins, hesitantly shifting from foot to foot as he stares down at his hands. Clearing his throat, his chest remains tight, his voice low as he speaks. “I- uh- I’ve been taking care of my brothers since my dad died. I got us an apartment, started workin’ and have letters from my employers to show my work ethic,” he pauses to hand these to his lawyer, “and I found a babysitter my brothers like.”

Sukuna’s gaze shifts up to the judge as the letters are passed along, straightening as he feels the scrutinizing glares of his step-mother and her lawyer in his peripherals. His own voice sounds unfamiliar to him as he tries to match the formal tone of the courtroom.

“I taught myself how to cook their favorite foods, I read to ‘em,” he wracks his brain for more details. “Learned how to change diapers, and I make sure they stay in school.” He sighs quietly as he scowls down at the table before him in thought. Every hardship and distant memory of the difficulty of teaching oneself to take care of children seems to weigh him down as he recounts each and every way he taught himself to step up.

He may have been forced into this life, but in every lifetime he’d do it over again if it means his brothers are happy.

Steeling himself, he fixes the judge with a determined gaze. “I stepped up. I did what I had to when I couldn’t reach their mom, and I’m still here. My little brothers are happy, they got food on the table, a roof over their heads, n’ they’re in school with friends. I’ll do anything for my brothers, and I’ve always been there for them, even when their mother wasn’t, no matter how much that affected them.” Sukuna finishes his statement, making a point of dragging down Kaori without being disrespectful in an effort to make a point about Kaori’s disingenuity.

Turning his expectant stare towards Kaori and her lawyer, he keeps his head up and gaze certain. The minute shake in his hands is well-hidden by the determination that keeps him looking at ease.

There was a time where his confidence wouldn’t be so thinly veiled. Shit, if he was testifying on any other subject, he’s sure he would be the picture of confidence itself, unperturbed by the goings on around him. It’s dejecting to know that he’s been reduced to a shadow of his former self by the very same woman who Sukuna knows openly rejected her own children’s calls.

The woman who wouldn’t step up and be a mother to him is now the woman tearing him down through legal means rather than having a conversation.

She’s selfish.

She’s a coward and an asshole and it pisses Sukuna off to no end to know what he’s become because of her. He hardly recognizes himself.

It’s strange. The person he sees in the reflection of the judge’s glasses doesn’t feel like him. He’s accustomed to the dark circles and pale reflection he sees, but the anxiety and doubt that cloud his vision taints his perspective of himself.

Sukuna is confident. He’s sure of himself. He’s brash, bold, and egotistical. He’s a hothead and a bit too quick on the draw to jump to conclusions. He’s smart, cunning, and hard-working, but under all those layers is a man who cares very much about those dear to him.

But the man who stares back at him is scared. In fact, he can’t see any of the qualities that seem to make him Sukuna aside from a set of tattoos that his father sighed at when he saw them.

He considers for a moment your presence behind him as well, and the version of himself he’s trying to be. He strives to be better. For you, for his brothers, and even for himself.

But the real difference between his step-mother and you is that you still want the version of Sukuna you saw before his step-mother tore him to shreds. You still want his confidence, his boldness, even his ego. You like his sharp-tongue and cunning remarks, and you’re willing to work through his emotions with him when he gets a little bit too impetuous for his own good. You’re even willing to help him through the unfamiliar territory that amounts to what he’s become after Kaori’s meddling.

You only ever ask him to treat you with the respect you give him. You want him to be himself, while being conscious of others.

Ms. Harte nods, shooting Sukuna a kind smile of reassurance before falling easily back into her role. “Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you provide further information on how you reached out to Ms. Itadori upon your father’s passing?”

Sukuna swallows the lump in his throat at the mention of a time he still can hardly bear to think about without guilt, shame, and grief washing over him. “Yeah. Got her number from Jin’s phone and tried his and my phone to call her, I had lawyers calling and writing, we sent letters from Choso and I, and emails to any contacts I could find.”

“Did your lawyers attempt any other method of contact?”

Sukuna nods. “Yeah, they pulled a-” he pauses, brow furrowing in thought. “A land title, I think, to try to find her new address, but nothing came up.”

Ms. Harte nods. “Thank you. Can you confirm you had no knowledge of Ms. Itadori’s illness prior to this case?”

“I didn’t,” Sukuna gruffs in confirmation, shooting a glare at Kaori as he still doesn’t believe her for a second.

“Can you attest to your connection with the children?”

Sukuna nods slowly. “Choso n’ I have been through a lot and I’ll always be there for him. I taught him how to cook and he wants to be a chef when he grows up, he even wants to take classes when he’s older,” Sukuna explains, inhaling sharply. “I’ve been there for all of Yuji’s firsts. First words, first steps, that was all me. He’s like my own kid n’ I know how to raise him and what he needs just fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you speak to your work ethic, please?”

“Mhm,” he hums, taking a moment to mentally reset. “I worked two jobs ‘til I was able to find one that pays well enough for less hours. I did what needed to be done while I got my footing and now I’m stable and spend almost every night with my brothers.”

“Do you believe that having a babysitter affected your ability to care for your brothers?” Ms. Harte queries.

Sukuna’s thankful for this portion of the questioning, as this is all rehearsed. “No. They like their babysitter a lot and I still spend all my free time with ‘em.”

Whether he’s talking about you or the kind woman across the hall you can’t be entirely certain, but you get the feeling it’s you. Even in the midst of the stressful trial, you find a minute smile pulling at the corners of your lips at the thought.

“Can you speak to the matter documented in the case conference last week in which Ms. Itadori states that you lashed out?”

Sukuna shuts his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to keep himself composed. “It’s been an emotional time, I don’t want to lose the kids.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. No further questions,” Ms. Harte nods, bowing to the judge as she takes a seat. With Mr. Cahn taking her place, Sukuna feels a chill run up his spine at his hardened disposition.

“Mr. Sukuna, would you not agree that it’s important for the kids to have a motherly figure in their life?”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “They have lots of good influences in their life other than their mother.”

“Do you believe you’re one of them?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly as he blows a breath out through his nose. If he weren’t in a courtroom, he’d have choice words for the man in the navy suit. “I do.”

Mr. Cahn presses harder, sensing Sukuna’s mounting frustration. “Would you not consider your nicotine addiction to be a detriment to the children’s health and your ability to uphold a positive influence in their lives?”

It takes everything in him to keep his tone neutral as he replies. “I don’t smoke around the kids.”

Unfortunately, Sukuna doesn’t realize the angle that he gives the man across from him. “So you admit that what Ms. Itadori saw when she intended to visit her children could be a possibility?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows, casting a glance at his lawyer who shoots him a signal to simply tell the truth, whatever he believes that to be. “I usually smoke on the balcony. I don’t like leaving my brothers alone,” he decides after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Kaori’s lawyer examines his expression as though reading him like a book, moving along. “You claim that you had to teach yourself to cook for them and learn their preferences, were you aware of the needs of children when you became their guardian?”

Sukuna shifts. His patience for this man is on thin ice. As is, he hates that he’s sharing his life with a group of strangers, his step-mother included, but to be grilled over his decisions and abilities is downright insulting. He may be a shadow of his former self, but he’s competent and he won’t let Kaori take that away from him.

“I looked after Choso when my dad was still around, so I knew a bit. I had some growing to do when I took over, but I figured sh- things out,” he replies, crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

“But wouldn’t you agree that their mother is better suited for the position of their guardian? Her ability to care for them is borne into her instincts as a mother.”

“No,” Sukuna replies immediately, his lip curling as he snarls his response. Momentarily forgetting to hold his tongue, he barks angrily, “maybe if she ever reached out or tried to be a mother to them I’d change my mind, but she was gone for four years without a word.”

“Mr. Sukuna,” the bailiff warns in an authoritative voice.

Sukuna shoots the bailiff a sharp glare, physically biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking out.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’d like to remind you of my client’s illness. She was bedridden for a majority of the years you speak of, unable to even sit up, let alone use a phone. On top of that, she spoke to her husband and Choso weekly at a minimum before Mr. Itadori passed. She attempted to call his phone, but you never picked up.”

Sukuna mutters an inaudible ‘whatever’ under his breath, fixing the lawyer with his harsh stare. Of course he didn’t pick up the unknown numbers calling his dad’s phone while he was grieving. That was the last thing he needed.

Chewing on your lip, you pray Sukuna can keep his frustrations under control. Given Kaori’s urgency to push the trial forward and her statements against his attitude, you can only guess he’s hurting his argument.

“Moving along, how do you balance your full-time position with taking care of the children?”

“I work while they’re in school,” he answers easily.

“And do you make enough to support them with that position alone?”

Sukuna nods slowly, lacking total conviction. “I pick up the occasional shift at an autoshop if I need to, but it’s enough.”

“And would you not agree that this allows you less time to ensure that the children are taken care of and that their needs are met?”

“Their needs,” Sukuna barely keeps his tone neutral, his teeth grit. “Are met. They have a good babysitter who they love. They’re happy.”

Ms. Harte casts a glance up at him, her expression unreadable. The judge may keep a straight face through the conversation, however you can practically see the way he’s passing silent discernment over the burly man each time he struggles to keep himself in check.

“Mr. Sukuna, a house study took place last week, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Detailed in the documents provided to the court,” he gestures towards the broader room, “it mentions that Choso Itadori is not only quiet, but seems as though he’s struggling emotionally. Have you been unable to meet his emotional needs?”

Sukuna swallows hard.

Time after time after time, it always seems to come back to the ways in which Sukuna has failed Choso. As though his own guilt isn’t enough, even those around him seem desperate to choke his failures out of him.

How the fuck is he meant to answer? ‘No, I haven’t been able to’? What good will that do him? How the hell is he intended to deflect the question without lying, the one thing his lawyer drilled into his head over the past couple of months?

Sukuna purses his lips, searching desperately for anything to appease a court. He’d been specifically advised against mentioning you due to your complicated relationship, could he take credit for the ways you’d gotten his little brother to come out of his shell?

Unfortunately for him, Kaori’s lawyer is a vulture waiting to strike. He takes Sukuna’s drawn out silence as his opportunity to address the judge. “Mr. Sukuna does not possess the emotional maturity to provide for such young children. I would like to advise the court to consider Choso Itadori’s mental well-being and struggles when making decisions on their guardianship,” he advises without so much as a stutter.

Kaori’s lawyer takes a pause, staring down Sukuna as the older man feels he’s beginning to wear through Sukuna’s shell.

Clearing his throat, he addresses the judge once more. “While I recognize that Choso’s statement reads that he’s particularly fond of Sukuna’s care, I also want to point out that he’s young and impressionable. He has no frame of reference for any other care and it’s important to take into account the fact that he’s suffering under his current care.”

If he hadn’t already been shushed by the bailiff, Sukuna would have burst. He would have thrown down every way that Kaori failed not only his brothers in the past four years, but all the ways she’d failed him growing up.

He wants to lash out, scream about the school events he only attended to make his dad proud, only for neither of them to show up because she was too busy getting her nails done and forcing Jin to wait. He want to lay out the way she forgot about him at Toji’s place, instead opting to take Choso to a movie, or the way she chose not to attend his high school graduation in favor of a girls’ day with her friends.

It was one of the very last events his father ever got to attend before Sukuna became little more than his father’s personal ambulance as the brutish kid was forced to watch his father deteriorate- alone. Whatever energy Jin could muster was used up on taking care of Choso and Yuji in order to alleviate Sukuna of the duty.

If only Jin could see what had become of his family now.

Sukuna seethes with rage at the thought.

All these years and he’s never once thought to try to get his father’s phone records, bills, anything to prove that Jin wasn’t consistently speaking with Kaori. He’d never considered needing to keep receipts or records that would prove that the woman sitting on the opposite end of the courtroom from him isn’t what she claims.

But now every last detail of their lives is nothing more than hearsay. His word against hers.

It’s the word of an exhausted and scared older brother, against the formal documentation of an overly confident mother and her disgustingly expensive lawyer.

His hands ball into fists at his side as he flashes a snarl at the opposing lawyer. “I’m perfectly capable of providing for them. Including mentally,” he retorts, strained as he finally finds some form of footing.

“Your Honor, I would like to call an additional witness to the stand,” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up as though taking Sukuna’s words as an invitation to speak.

“Objection, Your Honor!” Ms. Harte roars as both her and Sukuna tense. “There were no additional witnesses previously disclosed to my client, we haven’t had the opportunity to prepare.”

Judge Martinez adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Can the counsel for the applying party provide some insight on why this witness was not previously disclosed to the respondent?”

“Your Honor, we were only made aware of concerns of Choso Itadori’s mental health upon receiving the house study, which we received yesterday morning. Upon review, we felt it was necessary to contact Choso’s school for further analysis of his mental health. We only received word back last night that his teacher would be able to testify.”

You can only sit and watch, your mouth agape in horror, as the judge replies. “Objection overruled. Given the short notice, I understand that there was no time to disclose the witness, so I will allow them to testify. I will allow a small break after the testimony to give the respondent time to prepare for the cross-examination.”

Sukuna’s rage may as well manifest in the form of smoke blowing out of his ears with how furious he clearly is. He takes a seat with a drawn out, frustrated sigh as he begrudgingly holds his tongue.

You want to cry out that this is Kaori’s fault to begin with, that Choso wasn’t always like this. You want to shake her by her shirt collar that probably costs more than your entire car and blame her for everything that’s happened to this poor family, but one word from you will surely have you thrown out of the room. The most you can do is shoot Sukuna a reassuring look when he casts a fearful glance at you.

Whether it eases him or not, you can’t tell.

The court is hushed, murmurs between each lawyer and their clients are the only thing that can be heard as the bailiff retrieves the newest witness. You recognize Choso’s teacher, who likely has no real idea what’s going on, and thinks this is what’s best for the little boy, as she makes her way to the side of the opposing party’s table. Her brown hair is done up in curls, her long skirt pleated from where she sat as she awaited her part in the trial.

The bailiff has her introduce herself as Ms. Donovan, Choso’s teacher of several years due to the shifts in the school system, and she takes an oath to tell the truth, before she’s allowed to give her testimony. Mr. Cahn pushes for her to give a broad statement.

She doesn’t seem entirely comfortable in the courtroom setting as she begins. “Choso Itadori has been a part of my class for the past few years, and I currently teach him with a class of twenty three other students. I’ve known him for about five years, and he’s been an absolute pleasure. He’s bright, and he seems to enjoy learning.”

Your heart warms as she praises him, however you dread the ‘but’ that you know comes next.

“However, I’m concerned for his well-being. He got really quiet out of the blue about four years ago, though I’m aware that’s when his father passed away. He came out of his shell bit by bit and began to excel in science and math, and made some good friends, but a couple of months ago, it happened again.”

She adjusts her blouse, sending a sympathetic glance at Sukuna, though he only feels betrayed. Of course, she doesn’t know the mess she’s entered into, but what the hell is he meant to do in response to this? He can only pray his lawyer is as good as Hiromi had mentioned.

No, he knows she’s good. He really needs to pray that the judge didn’t have his mind made up from the beginning. While real trials differ greatly from the scenes he’s accustomed to on television, one thing stands the same between both.

The system is flawed and favors the rich. It favors those with power, and if Sukuna’s being honest, he doesn’t know a damn thing about the capacity of Kaori’s wealth. She always brought money to the relationship with Jin that she worked for, but everything seems different now, and she covered her tracks well. Sukuna hadn’t been able to track down any information on her online despite the status she clearly has.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Choso say a word in the past couple of months,” Ms. Donovan continues. He doesn’t seem to pay attention anymore and his grades are slipping. I know he’s young and he has time, but I’m more concerned for his mental health. On top of that, his attendance was perfect until recently. There have been a couple of weeks this year where he hasn’t shown up at all,” she adds with a frown.

Fuck. That was meant to be a positive break for the kids, and now it’s ammunition against Sukuna’s own case.

“Lastly, Mr. Sukuna has been late to pick them up on multiple occasions. He’s usually only a few minutes late at most, however there was an occasion where he didn’t show up at all.”

“Thank you for addressing your concerns, Ms. Donovan. No further questions.” Kaori’s lawyer takes a seat with an overly pleased look on his face.

The judge leans back in his seat as he addresses the court room. “I’ll allow twenty minutes for discussion and break, before we resume.”

Ms. Harte sighs, running her hands over her face as she faces Sukuna. You can’t hear her words from the viewing area, though you can feel her exasperation.

“That certainly puts a wrench in our argument,” she sighs, tapping the table. “But we still have an angle. Choso’s behavior changed when he became aware of the lawsuit, correct?”

Sukuna, desperate for a break, a cigarette, anything, grunts. “Yeah.”

“Right. We use that, and advise that Kaori’s interference in the childrens’ lives is what’s negatively affecting his health,” she nods, remaining confident. Though Sukuna doesn’t share the same confidence as his mood shifts and fear dwells in the corner of his mind, he agrees with a small nod, putting his faith in her.

You can only shuffle uncomfortably in your seat as Sukuna and Ms. Harte prepare for the cross-examination. Their murmurs are the only sounds filling the silence that clings to your lungs like water, drowning you in uncertainty.

Casting a glance at Kaori, you can’t help but notice the way she confidently crosses her arms over her chest as she discusses details with her own lawyer with a goddamn smile. You wonder if the judge sees through her innocent and sweet grins just as you do, but you fear that hope is misplaced.

Just as you’re sure Ms. Harte and Sukuna suspect something, you can’t help but wonder if there’s manipulation of sorts going on behind the scenes. Everything feels skewed and even if the balance of the court is only off-kilter by a couple of degrees, it’s enough to catch your attention. But what can you do? There’s no way to prove your theory.

While you can understand the judge’s decision to allow an additional witness, something about the whole situation seems to play into the idea that something is wrong and the system is failing before your very eyes.

What’s Kaori’s angle here, anyway? You can understand being sick, but the details don’t add up given what you know about her. But that’s just it, she has an excuse for everything. It’s as though this is nothing more than a routine. Hell, even Ms. Donovan speaks with a practiced air of confidence that makes you wonder if her speech was equally as fake as Kaori’s. Her argument is painfully air-tight.

Is that all this is to Kaori, a game? Are her own children pawns in some scheme you can’t put your finger on? If her love for them is as fake as her love for Sukuna clearly is, then what does she gain out of this?

You can only hope to never be sure as the court returns and the bailiff announces that the hearing is back in session, allowing Sukuna’s counsel to begin the cross-examination.

“Ms. Donovan, good morning,” Ms. Harte stands, greeting the young woman. She returns the lawyer’s greeting with a genuinely sweet smile. “Can you confirm when Choso Itadori’s behaviour took a turn for the worst again?”

Chewing on her lip, the teacher takes a moment to consider the question. “It was early in January. The first week, I believe.”

“Thank you. Can you confirm that the change in his behaviour has been similar to how it was around four years ago?”

The teacher nods. “That’s right.”

“Your Honor, Choso Itadori’s mental health has taken a turn at two pivotal moments in his life. The first is when his father passed away, which coincides with a time where the child thought his mother had chosen not to return. Much like my client, he had no way of knowing his mother was ill,” she points out, pacing somewhat closer to Sukuna. “The first week of January is when Mr. Sukuna informed the children of this trial. He is raising them to be mature and responsible and did not believe that keeping information from them was wise. They’re smart children,” Ms. Harte points out.

Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief at how strong of an argument his lawyer makes in his favor.

“I would like to advise the court to take into consideration how a revelation of that gravity would affect a child. Each time that my client chose to keep the children back from school was in order to preserve their mental health. While school is important and Mr. Sukuna is well-aware of this himself, he puts an emphasis on taking breaks when necessary and teaching the children to manage their mental health.”

Turning to face the judge, Ms. Harte stands confidently in the center of the room.

“Ms. Itadori herself is responsible for Choso’s declining mental health, whether it was her intention or not,” she claims, leaving the possibility open-ended so as not to make accusations she can’t back up. “Mr. Sukuna has proven he is capable of nurturing Choso’s mental well-being, as detailed by Ms. Donovan. She confirmed that the child’s attitude improved over the months following his father’s passing, a time when only Sukuna was present in their lives. My client cares a great deal about the children and would not allow their health to deteriorate without taking the appropriate steps to care for them.” She bows. “No further questions.”

Judge Martinez directs his attention to the applicant party. “Does the counsel have any further questions?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Cahn adjusts his tie as he pushes to his feet. “Ms. Donovan, does the school offer the children any tools to manage their mental health?”

The teacher nods slowly. “We offer a limited range of programs to assist, but Choso hasn’t been receptive to anything.”

“Can you confirm whether the faculty has made any suggestions to Sukuna in order to manage Choso’s mental health?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

With a hum of thought, she clasps her hands as she replies. “When Choso’s grades began slipping, we suggested it may be worth having him evaluated by a mental health professional. I’m not sure if that happened.”

Sukuna stares at his hand as his grip on the arm of his seat tightens. He’d forgotten about that. She had mentioned it, but the thought had burrowed itself into the deep recesses of his mind and quite simply disappeared. He’d had so much on his mind, he’d figured he had time.

Constricting around his lungs, his guilt slices and claws into him once more, dragging the breath from his lungs.

“Thank you. Has Mr. Sukuna ever mentioned his reason for being late on multiple occasions?”

Ms. Donovan shakes her head, shrugging. “I don’t recall, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Mr. Cahn moves along. “Have you witnessed Mr. Sukuna smoking around the children?”

“On occasion,” she replies without hesitation. “Never on school property, but usually right before class ends.” Sukuna grits his teeth. What bullshit that twenty minutes prior to class ending supposedly counts as smoking around his brothers.

“Thank you,” Kaori’s lawyer nods his head calmly. “One final question.”

“Do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Sukuna could be a negative influence on Choso Itadori?”

Ms. Donovan casts a glance at Sukuna. She seems to consider the question seriously. “I don’t think he’s a driving negative force in Choso’s life,” she replies. Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief a moment too soon as the teacher continues, “however, I think Choso would benefit greatly from more guided care. In the six years that I’ve been teaching, I’ve never seen a child as withdrawn as he’s become, and he shows no signs of improving.”

“Can you describe his behavior?”

Fiddling with her skirt, Ms. Donovan nods. “Of course. Choso seems to look right through everyone, and often when I think he’s paying attention, it’s not until I address him that he seems to tune in to what I’m saying.” She swallows, shaking her head as she continues. “He turns in homework without issue, but any in-class work goes unfinished. His tests don’t have any rhyme or reason behind what he writes or what options he chooses in multiple choice and he doesn’t show his work, either. I don’t think he’s reading the tests at all.”

Sukuna’s brow furrows as his shortcomings are laid bare for him. He knew Choso’s grades were slipping, but the homework he’d been doing seemed fine whenever Sukuna looked it over. Sure, Ms. Donovan had advised him that she’d like to meet, but he’d pushed her worries away given the gravity of the upcoming trial. He’d been under the impression that he would win, and everything would be fixed.

It’s not that he didn’t heed the teacher’s warning that Choso needed help, but he thought he understood what was going on with his little brother. He wasn’t aware just how deep the roots extended into the little boy’s life.

Failure after failure after failure.

How many times would he need to fail Choso before he learned his lesson?

He’s always known school is important, there’s a reason it took Sukuna so long to give up on college, but he didn’t realize just how much Choso’s behavior in school painted a picture of how Sukuna is as a parent.

The room feels claustrophobic as Sukuna continues to listen to the witness.

“At recess, he’s completely closed himself off from the other students. He eats alone in the classroom and won’t respond to me if I try to engage with him in conversation. He’s always been quiet, but he had a good group of friends. They’ve all expressed their worries to me, as well.”

He stopped talking to his friends? Shit, why is Sukuna even surprised? The kid stopped talking to his brothers. Still, his heart drops.

“On a couple of occasions that he did leave the class- which is rare-” she continues, “I caught a couple of children bullying him. I don’t tolerate that, and have punished them appropriately, but this is new as far as I’m aware. His behavior seems to be making him a target for teasing.”

Sukuna’s shoulders drop to his sides as he stares across the room in wide-eyed disbelief. Choso was being…? Why had he never mentioned it?

Of course Sukuna wants to do right by Yuji, but he carries a deep conviction to do right by Choso. The eldest of his little brothers may not look like him, but Choso is a very obvious product of Sukuna’s shortcomings.

He just didn’t realize how obvious.

Sukuna struggles to remember the last time Choso even smiled. His heart twists as the image he conjures in his mind of his little brother is adorned with a frown and eyes that speak of unspoken battles that Sukuna’s incapable of helping him through.

There was a time, so far into the past now that the tattooed man hardly remembers it anymore, where Choso was much closer in personality to Yuji than to Sukuna. He’d always been a bit more on the calm side than his youngest brother, but he was filled with a genuine curiosity for the world, his eyes so filled with light.

He can’t say for sure when that light dulled and eventually flickered out.

Sukuna’s not sure he ever really came to terms with the fact that at the root of this issue, he became a father at eighteen.

A father.

He’s not sure he really understands the meaning behind the term, in truth. He can’t be sure where the line falls between brother and father, unable to clearly define the roles. The brother in him wants to teach the kids bullying his little brother a lesson. The father in him, whatever part of him that is, is lost. What do you do when the kid you’ve raised is being bullied?

What’s Sukuna meant to do? There’s no handbook for this.

Would Kaori know how to deal with this?

Would Jin have known?

He wonders if Jin’s watching this unfold somewhere on the other side. If he’s as torn up about his fractured family as Sukuna is. How would he feel to know his oldest son dropped out of college and has amounted to nothing more than another bill on an expensive lawyer’s docket?

Sukuna’s guilt towards Jin is misplaced, though, when Choso is sitting back at home. He thinks his remorse regarding his mistakes with Choso set in before he ever really realized what role he’d been forced into playing. It lingered deep in the recesses of his mind, back when he still grappled heavily with his grief, but it wasn’t until he’d processed his situation that he realized just how fucked he’d been.

Choso was so young. Sukuna was so young. Eighteen is old enough to legally be a guardian, but not to drink. What kind of sick law is that? To have that responsibility thrust upon him with no other options left Sukuna as a horribly bitter man suffocating from the weight of the pressure. Rather than asking for help, he chose to drown his brother in his sorrows, to bring them both down.

But could you even call it a choice he made when the reality is that they were both just kids?

There’s no guide for this sort of shit. No YouTube videos, no ‘For Dummies’ book.

What would that even be called? ‘How to Become a Father to Your Little Brothers for Dummies’?

How many times would he need to remind himself that he acted so childish back then because he was a child? Hell, sometimes he thinks he still is. The weight of his immaturity bears down on him harshly when he remembers forgetting to pay taxes just a couple of years ago because March and April were never tax season to him.

They were the beginning of skateboarding season, of paint sticking to walls and basketball with Toji.

Only, Toji wasn’t there anymore.

He just forgot to pay.

The worst memory he carries with him from that time is one that keeps him up at night. Worse than when he snapped at Choso when Kaori didn’t reply, and worse than relying on a kid to help him make it through a house study.

He remembers staring at Choso with resentment, seeing only Kaori in his features. He remembers the discussions with lawyers quickly turning into arguments. Choso was always on the sidelines, listening in. Sukuna had no real regard for him at the time, too caught up in his own issues. He recalls yelling about how he didn’t ask for any of the responsibility, he didn’t ask to be looking after his brothers like this.

“I don’t want them, or any of this shit!”

His words echo in his mind, burrowing themselves into his very being like a parasite.

He shuts his eyes briefly. If only Choso could see him now. See how much this really means to Sukuna. Just once, he wants to do right by his little brother. He can’t erase the past, but he can make up for it with a better future. He can show Choso that his misgivings in the past were a product of the misdirected anger of a delinquent child.

Like every other time he’s stumbled through life and learned as he went, he’ll figure things out this time too. He’ll scare off the bullies with a glare as Choso’s brother, and let Choso know to tell him if it happens again as his parent.

He’ll figure it the fuck out.

He faces straight ahead, his face hardened with resolve.

“Ms. Donovan, did you make Mr. Sukuna aware of the bullying?”

She hesitates, casting a glance in his direction. “This development is recent and I haven’t had the opportunity to, no.”

“Would you say it’s safe to assume that Mr. Sukuna isn’t aware of what goes on with Choso at school?”

She hesitates once more, her face falling as she watches Sukuna from her peripherals. “... Yes.”

“Can you confirm whether or not you’ve attempted to get his attention around your concerns with Choso?”

She nods again. “Yes, I have.”

Sukuna’s resolve shatters before it has the chance to flourish. Even Choso’s teacher thinks Sukuna’s failing.

As much as he wants to say he stands on equal footing with Kaori, fear crawls up his spine and grips him by the throat.

Is he losing?

He can’t lose, by all accounts he’s been there, he’s the living and breathing proof of what it means to care for someone. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he’s made, he’s still learning. Maybe he is young, maybe he is inexperienced, maybe Choso needs more help than Sukuna’s been giving him, but he can figure that shit out.

It’s true that Sukuna didn’t ask for this responsibility. He didn’t want it. But he’ll fight for it. He’ll fiercely protect the family he recognizes now as the most important part of his life. The people who each hold pieces of him and make him who he is. Choso, and Yuji. His eyes trail back slowly to you, seated on the edge of your chair.

You look gorgeous. Even with your brow furrowed in concern and fear that mirrors his own, you look flawless. You hold a piece of him, too. A piece that he can’t bear to live without, for fear that he might completely fall apart.

He wants to scream from the top of his lungs that every person here is a damn fool if they believe any of Kaori’s words. He wants to list every single misdemeanor that she did that he could never tell his dad about. Yet, every single time he tries to lead the conversation in the direction that Kaori isn’t all she seems, they have some sort of concrete proof or evidence to say otherwise.

It’s fucked, and all Sukuna can do now is pray to whatever god will listen. His heart is in this and that should be what matters, because Kaori’s isn’t. If it’s obvious to him, it’s obvious to the judge. He has to cast aside his concerns of outside manipulation of the judge, because this is all he has.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

As the bailiff dismisses the final witness, the courtroom becomes deathly silent. It penetrates through Sukuna like a banshee, ringing loudly in his ears. As closing arguments finally begin and Mr. Cahn rises, his words are a blur to Sukuna. His, Ms. Harte’s. They’re all the same, reiterating the points they’ve gone over already and emphasizing the importance of this case. Mr. Cahn makes a point that there’s a reason a rush was placed on this case, as Choso can only be put through so much, but Ms. Harte easily refutes that once this case is over, Choso will find his footing in the world once more.

As Judge Martinez requests a moment to consider his notes before delivering a decision, the silence bears down further on Sukuna from all sides. It threatens to suffocate him, clawing at his insides as the taste of iron floods his mouth when he bites down on his tongue a bit too hard.

He’s kept his fears so well-masked over the course of the past hour that his body seems to burst as he feels his hands physically shivering in his lap. It’s not cold in the room, if anything the sweat rolling down his jaw from his temple should spell out just how warm the room really is.

He’d spent so many days preparing for this moment, so many hours on the phone with telecommunications companies for phone logs, putting in extra work to get letters from his employers, and pulling files out from the darkest depths of closets to prove anything.

Had this been a couple of years ago, he’s not even sure if he could have managed to get the files. Not because he wouldn’t have cared or wanted to, but because the sight of his father’s obituary tucked among all his bills would have sent Sukuna spiralling. He’s come so far over the past few years, he can’t let it be for nothing.

How had it come to this, in the first place?

When would karma come for Kaori like it had so often haunted Sukuna?

His attention snaps to the judge as the man addresses the room again. “I have carefully read through all of the provided evidence. After considering this and the testimonies from witnesses of both parties, I have reached a decision that I believe is in the best interest of the children and their mental well-being.”

Their mental well-being? Sukuna’s heart drops. No.

“I would like to start by acknowledging how much love is clearly being put on display for these children. I can very clearly see that both parties care greatly for them. My greatest consideration today will be to ensure the long-standing welfare of the children and ensure they have what they need in order to flourish int he future.”

On the edge of his seat, Sukuna clings to the table with white knuckles. This can’t happen. He has to interrupt.

“With that in mind, the decision I have made today is one that I feel will allow the children to heal from any prior transgressions. Concerns on both sides have been noted, and I believe both parties today will be able to understand where my decision is coming from.”

Sukuna’s gaze whips towards Ms. Harte, whose expression is grave. She knows too. He has to say something. He has to-

“The applicant, as the biological mother of Choso and Yuji Itadori will be granted sole guardianship. While I understand the applicant placed a rush on this trial, I do not believe that Mr. Sukuna places the children in any immediate danger and as both their half-brother and prior guardian, he will retain visitation rights. To allow the children a safe and easy transition, this will be effective as of Monday next week.”

“No! She doesn’t fucking care!” Sukuna barks in a desperate plea, losing control as he finally stands.

The bailiff stands immediately. “Mr. Sukuna! Order, please,” she requests, matching his fervor with confidence.

With venomous intent, he opens his mouth, but Ms. Harte places a hand on his forearm to catch his attention. “Please sit, Sukuna. I’ll work through this with you.”

Surely she has cause for a retrial or an appeal or something, right? He has to put his belief in her and her abilities right now, because it might damn be all he has left.

As he takes a seat, his vision closes in on him. White from all edges, he shuts his eyes and rubs harshly at them. The ringing in his ears is overbearing, his throat closing up on him as he struggles to sit still.

The trial continues on without him as Ms. Harte makes decisions on his behalf for the handover of the children on Monday morning. Sukuna can’t make out a single word being said. It’s nothing more than jumbled and broken letters, gibberish in his mind.

He feared this outcome so heavily, yet it never seemed like it could be a possibility. What happened here that Kaori had gotten away with so much deception? Where had these supposed hospital records come from?

What kind of dumbass is this judge? Did Kaori pay him?

On paper, the case was always tough, but the more evidence he pulled up, the more it leaned in his favor. Yet with each piece of evidence he compiled, Kaori had something up her sleeve to throw the balance off.

Would he spend a lifetime wondering what went wrong?

Kaori would never let him visit no matter his rights, would he not see Choso for six years? Would it be thirteen years before he sees Yuji again? Surely not, his lawyer has to figure something out. He’ll drain every penny he has to make it happen. He can’t let this happen.

He can’t fail Choso again.

And yet, he already has.

You sniffle from behind Sukuna, though he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seem to hear it. You want just as badly as he surely does to reverse the decision, to fight more, fight harder if you can, but it’s to no avail. You’re at a complete and utter loss. Your head feels horribly light as the decision truly sets in.

The bailiff adjourns the court, advising an exit of the room.

Wiping tears from your eyes and inhaling sharply, you cling tightly to the bracelets that round your wrist, forced to watch in horror as Sukuna stands abruptly, stumbling out of his chair with the scraping of wood across the floor. He clutches at his chest, anger ablaze in his eyes as he slams out the door while Ms. Harte attempts to reach out to him.

Your lips part as you call after Sukuna as well, but he’s gone before it ever reaches him. Whether he’s going to throw his unsuspecting lighter into another wall or to gasp for air out in the cool morning, you can’t say for sure, but one thing’s for certain.

It took Kaori only one hour and twenty four minutes to rip whatever remained of your dear friend to pieces.

Another tear rolls down your cheek and you find yourself choking back a sob as you hide your face on the way out.

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❦ a/n ; forgive me :')

trust, i promise this series will have a happy ending <33 i'm a sucker for angst though and you guys are subject to my whims 🙂‍↕️ LMAO anyway regardless of the angst and devastation, i really hope everyone is still enjoying the series! ty all for sticking with me, there's still much more to come! i never could have anticipated how long this series would be but i'm super grateful to be able to share it with you all

shoutout again to all the lovely and amazing people who helped me with the legal drama as well, it's been a huge help! if you see any legal process errors, no you didn't ;)