wasteland, baby! [fushiguro megumi]

34: nanami

third person pov

"itadori,"

"just die already ..." bile rises to his throat.

"itadori!"

"just me! die ... now!" consumed by his own guilt and shame, the cries of a sinner drowns the sound of skin tearing against cracked concrete ground.

"YUJI!" keiko yanks itadori by his hood, kneeling to his level, her glare burning into his resentful, tear-filled eyes and itadori chokes back his sobs.

"what the hell do you think you're doing?" her voice is cold, yet her overwhelming amount of cursed energy brands itself into his soul and he swears he could feel its heat clawing its way out.

"all these people i killed-"

"they would've died anyway," she sighs.

if not because of sukuna, then because of me.

keiko gazes back at the aftermath of malevolent shrine; the multitude of simultaneous cleaves and dismantles had reduced at least half of shibuya to ash and dust, what once was a bustling concrete jungle now an apocalyptic wasteland. keiko hears the banshees of death shriek from the basement where violence continues to stir, or was that from the chambers of her own soul? "we still have work to do."

another wave of pain flashes behind itadori's eyes, the reality of being a jujutsu sorcerer stings him like a thousand thorns, weighing down on him with soul crushing gravity, a treacherous reality he was once so blindly oblivious to.

"when it's your time to go, make sure you're surrounded by others."

"help people."

realisation dawns on him that he had no place crying over death, at this rate he is nothing but a murderer. a few months ago, he had steered his fate in the direction towards the very thing he despised, but with the gentle heart of fushiguro megumi he was given yet another chance to rewrite death. if not his own, then for others. a parasite like sukuna couldn't care less about the heaps of skeletons he leaves behind, but itadori yuji wholeheartedly believed that his resolve was stronger than the wrath of the king of curses and he could not have been more wrong.

the righteous aspiration to save more than he killed had vanished into thin air.

"mizuki ... what do i do?" his voice comes out softer than he intended — words hardly held together by shaky breaths, a faint 'how do you do it?' undertone lies within his question.

dropping his hood, keiko hisses silently at the crescendo of contempt roaring from the pantheon. any normal human being would've sympathised with the boy instantly, but with the amount of cruelty keiko has seen and endured, it leaves her no room for the kind of sensitivity itadori needs. the boisterous mocking of amaterasu hauls her back and forth between elysium and reality, and when she finally opens her mouth to say something she would deem as remotely thoughtful, the words of another are first to reach the air.

"what use is innocence and kindness if people end up dead all the same?"

keiko immediately slaps a hand over her mouth, a perplexed expression painting her features while itadori stays dumbfounded. a fading chuckle dances at the back of her mind and a blurry mirage of a young girl — barely a teenager — disappears as soon as keiko's eyes meet itadori's.

"i apologise, i have no idea why that came out."

the awkward silence becomes more stifling while keiko awaited any kind of response, counting the seconds till her subconscious reflex to clear her throat almost gave way to a coughing fit.