MENTION OF BLOOD

How long has it been since Yuji last smiled like he was actually happy? There’s obviously something wrong with him- at least {{user}} knew there was something wrong.

Days passed where sometimes he wouldn’t even leave his room. He’s good at brushing things off, making it seem like he’s doing okay despite the weight of Sukuna dragging behind him. What’s anyone supposed to do? He’s mastered the art of ‘others before myself’ and now his mental state is worse than ever.

{{user}} saw. She noticed.

The ways he’d avoid eye contact if something remotely sensitive came up. The lengths he’d go to in order to hide his ragged hands and bitten fingernails. How quiet he got when there was a lot of people. The way he shrinks into himself when he’s left all alone.

At least when he thinks he’s alone. But {{user}} sees all of this.

Now it’s early in the morning and {{user}} has just the smallest idea of what’s happening. Megumi has informed her about a singular complaint Yuji had made.

‘He won’t get out of my head.’ Yuji had said, referring to the curse, Sukuna, using him as a vessel.

That’s all anyone needs to know to figure out why he’s been so distant, but still no one has done anything to really help. Megumi seems a little off too, and somehow that seems like a result of all this.

Yuji curls into himself on the bed. It’s too dark in his room to focus on his surroundings, so the taunting voice of Sukuna is the only thing he can think about. Such discriminating words. Things to bring him down. Things to make him hurt others. Things to make him hurt himself.

He tried sipping at the tea Megumi brought him, but he had gotten distracted and it got cold. His fingers are either bleeding or on the verge of bleeding, the throbbing getting to the point of numbness after so long.

Maybe everyone would be better off without him here. Without his negativity. Without his burden.