𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 | sukuita

1; Dreamland

It's hard to really remember when the dreams first started. For a while there was an abstractness to them. Like a thick fog made of little hands eager to pick the dream apart and crawl back into the ether when the waking world calls.

It's been awhile since Yuuji could really remember any dreams, and he thinks maybe that had been Sukuna's doing.

Yuuji knew he could do things like that. Make him forget tasks or blur his focus in the middle of conversations. Like a ferret he takes precious little things and hides them away until Yuuji is forced to miss them.

There's a pretty good chance it's been happening from the very beginning of their relationship as warden and prisoner. A little game of keep away that Yuuji's awareness is only now catching the strands of.

He isn't too sure, and has stewed time and time again on if he even cares about the stolen dreams. But these thoughts are neither here nor there, because Yuuji is much more focused on the one he's currently having.

Though for a while, Yuuji hadn't been sure it was a dream at all. Most people will say their dreams are weird, that they have strange occurrences like talking animals or seeing fantasy lands.

Yuuji simply sees snow. An expansive lush whiteness that sprawls for miles, packed so densely that the crunch of Yuuji's footsteps seem to echo across the hill he's walking on.

Why was he walking again...?

Because the temperature has finally leveled out into a consistent winter , is what he answers to himself. The number of days is of no concern but it's enough for Yuuji to feel in his bones that it's perfect for ice skating on ponds just like he did in his youth.

Those memories are precious and by some grace Sukuna hasn't tried to pick at them. They're full of his grandpa's rare laughter and a woman's coos and a man calling for Yuuji to look in his direction.

So he plans to chase after them, recreate his pockets of safety to hide away from the world and forget the sword of damocles looming overhead.

It was perfect and it was his and it felt safe.

That is to say, until Yuuji crests the hill overlooking the pond and sees a figure standing serenely in the center. It's an incredibly familiar sight, because it's Sukuna who's standing perfectly still. He looks like an olympic figure skater, waiting at the beginning of his performance just before the music begins.

There's a pensive look simmering just under his features and all four of his eyes are closed. But with a sudden start Sukuna twists, the blades of his skates glimmering in the pinked sun and snow spraying out as he takes off.

It's obvious he's talented, Sukuna's form is fluid and fast like a sidewinder gliding across a desert floor. It's pretty and perfect and Yuuji has no clue why he's here in his dream.

Sukuna's eyes are still closed but his voice carries loud and with purpose in Yuuji's direction, "can you skate, brat?"

If anything Yuuji is fast on his feet, he can say at least that much. But skating isn't something he's gotten to do since he was fourteen, just before his grandpa took his last steps outside of the hospital.

Before Yuuji can really process it he's at the edge of the pond, boot laces weaving with practiced ease between the notches near his ankles. "I can skate," he mutters more to himself but Sukuna still seems to hear and scoffs at his whine.