Chapter Text
They didn’t know if they existed or not.
There was no awareness, no spark to signal an ember of a being. There was only a sentience that never knew they existed. A haze of blackness, a fog that felt natural to sink into, smothering any will of their own. Not that they even knew they had an intention, to begin with.
A blank being, having known nothing else than the smog, incapable of traversing the gloom. A haze covered their existence, never controlling or unnatural, with no reason to fight against the mists.
They didn’t think, only existing without a worry, having known nothing to worry about. They had instincts that never came to the surface for some time. And even then, it was only jerks in the being's nonexistent form, leaving them with barely a spark of curiosity, then being doused in the fog once again.
Over time, the fog became thinner, something that didn’t want to make them move, but once the haze over the being’s mind thinned, flashes of awareness assaulted them.
It was nothing more than a few milliseconds of memories they had no recollection of, familiarity only barely there. They came as quickly as they came, but they were always the same, or at least similar.
They saw blurry images, something that struck them deep in the center of his being. It was the color blue on the face of someone they couldn’t see, white covering their face, but couldn’t stop them from hearing a phantom laugh in the depths of their mind.
The blue was vivid as if staring at the sky with the stars shining. They held the world in all its beauty, and when the flashes came by, they hoped it would last longer so they could appreciate the beauty that blue held. As if staring at the universe in a starry night held by the ocean's embrace, full of life and the pressure of power that could crush but cradle.
Somehow warm, especially when they could feel the laughter shaking their mind, feeling safe at the sound.
The white framing that blue they didn’t want to call blue because it was so much more, was as soft as snow, stark against the darkness, a pure beacon in the fog that was their existence. The flashes came every so often, creating a sun in their dreary world, and they only hoped for it to return, as the moon did the sun every dawn.
Unable to coexist, but could see the other for a moment, then disappear over the skyline, waiting for another day to dawn or dusk.
But they desired to reach the sun, hoping for a moment more to bask in the warm rays of the blue that struck them deeply. They didn’t know how cold they were until the sun warmed their frozen core, now wanting nothing more than to be warm.
The absence of the fragments of warmth made them try to reach out more, for the first time fighting against the haze of their consciousness. The smog felt natural, but something told them they couldn’t see their sun if they stayed in the darkness.
It felt as if a part of their being was ripped apart from them every time their sun left, leaving them freezing and desolate, numb to everything else.
They didn’t know why they saw the cerulean in their mind since he knew nothing else except the yearning to reach out and touch. Something told them they couldn’t touch the sun if they didn’t want to be burned, cremated by the heat. But they didn’t care. If they ceased to exist because they flew too close to the sun, they would fall with melted wings, satisfied with dying while gazing at the object of their desires.
A celestial body was never meant to be touched, but they would do anything to see their brilliant form.
They struggled against the fog, trying to claw their way through, to see more of the center of their being, which caused them to be filled with such yearning it felt almost painful. It felt as if someone was reaching into his core and pulling harshly, trying to devoid them of a key part of them, knowing if they succeeded, they would cease to exist.
The more they fought against the haze, they could see more, more radiant warmth, more brilliance that lit them up from the core of their being. The white and blue shone like a beacon, calling them from their hibernation.
They had no idea what this meant but knew enough to know the luminous blue was the cardinal nucleus of their wants.
They wanted to see the blue in the flesh. Wanted to know why the blue was so important.
Wanted to bask in their rays like a lizard in the sun, warm to the core and content.
The mists got weaker, with more echoes sounding throughout their consciousness. It wasn’t just one flash of remembrance, but multiple, each showing the sun in different areas, unable to focus on the surroundings, focused on the luminescent being, becoming warm at the echoes of what they distantly recognized as words they couldn’t understand.
It only served to show them that they could get more, to battle against the sensation that would return them to their unknowing state.
They wanted more.
They were greedy and selfish in want. They wanted to reach through to fog and remember who this being was and why they were so important to them.
They continued to navigate the dark mists, moving in a direction they instinctively knew was the shortest path to their goal. The closer they got to their end goal, the echoes rumbled through their being, causing them to shiver, their piercing frigid being was almost always warm, more desperate than ever to keep warm, cradling the echoes for however long they could.
It was during those times when they were cradling an echo they heard the rumble that caused them to be soothed in the most primal way.
Suguru
They didn’t know what that meant but knew it was them.
The rumbles were calling out to them. They didn’t know what Suguru meant, didn’t know why the brightest celestial being would call out to them, but the warmth was nothing compared to the past instances. It scorched through them, almost too warm to exist, but grasped onto the feeling with everything they had. It could burn them from the inside, but if it did, they would return to the darkness with contentedness.
The echoes came more frequently, making Suguru( Suguru, they didn’t know how odd it felt to call themselves other than themselves, unaware they had something to call themselves. An identity, something that was novel compared to the nothingness they came from. It was odd to know they were something, not the nothing they thought. To have something that told them they existed in any meaning of the word.) fight with more insistence, to reminisce in what the echoes showed.
They heard the celestial call them Suguru in the echoes, somehow familiar in its tone. As if they were being called to them with an inhale of a breath.
As if the being was breathing them in, something Suguru didn’t understand because they were the ones to be fond of. To be treated with fondness and devotion.
The want only magnified, causing a fervor that was unmatched, wanting more.
Suguru didn’t know why or how, but the mists were deterring them from continuing, from seeing their one and only(That felt right in ways they couldn’t understand). Suguru could only claw their way through, taking a step forward and three steps back, but continued to persist.
With every step, they could hear and see more, the echoes becoming tangible in their conscious, not yet touchable, but could be observed in confidence. Most of the echoes never had anything more than white and blue, but some called to them by their name.
Then they finally got an echo that caused an implosion in their being. It was not just the being that called out to them.
Suguru called out to them.
Calling them by name,
Satoru
That is what the celestial was called. Satoru.
Suguru grasped onto the name with devotion, grasp desperate and with enough strength for it never to be lost. The name struck through the fog, the last key to clear the majority of the fog.
Suguru didn’t know much, but he(He felt right, felt natural) could see with more clarity than ever before. Suguru still couldn't remember Satoru’s face but could see the eyes he loved with enough clarity to make everything else be forgotten.
Suguru could remember that Satoru was his best friend, only barely knowing what that meant and that it was downplaying their relationship.
Suguru could only remember bits and pieces of their past, knowing there should be more, but it was still held captive by the haze in the back of his subconscious.
But he knew he wasn’t always like this. He used to be tangible, able to hold Satoru without fearing burning up. Suguru shouldn’t be in a fog, where he couldn’t return to Satoru.
He realized he knew things, more than what the fog always held back. He knew the information he had no way of knowing, belatedly realizing he only forgot this information. Common knowledge from when he and Satoru were together.
It hurt to realize he ever forgot his one and only, but he could fix that. Suguru might not know anything except what is probably common knowledge, but he knew enough that he had to return.
He knew this was probably a cursed technique, a power he had but nothing like this. Muscle memory fought with him to escape this place, to return to where he belonged.
He used to be a person.
A person with memories and power, something that could leave this realm of darkness he found himself in. He had no idea where he was; the knowledge that came easily couldn’t help him, not knowing where he was.
Suguru didn’t know who he was, what happened to him, nothing except that Satoru was more than important to him.
His past was blank as freshly fallen snow. He had no idea about his childhood, teenage years, or adulthood. The part of his mind that held his memories seemed to be wiped clean. He could only vaguely remember Satoru, but that was already pushing it.
But remembering Satoru, how they met, what they were to each other was enough to keep going.
Suguru didn’t know how long he was fighting for air when a tremor ran threw him with the force of a thousand curses, trembling as if it affected his very being. It echoed through the space, waking up the part of his being he didn’t know was sleeping.
“Your body and cursed energy are the same as Suguru Getou’s, but my soul knows otherwise! Tell me! Who the hell are you!?”
Suguru jerked, subconsciously pushing aside the mist that trapped him with enough force for it all to clear. He saw through hazy vision a man with white hair and blue, blue, eyes staring angrily at him, eyes filled with masked despair after a moment.
He moved but without his permission, feeling his body distantly but having no control. The words his body spoke with were distant, sounding as if they were spoken underwater, only the man, Satoru’s, words could reach him. The rage, disgust, along with hidden grief, on his face made Suguru clamor inside his mind.
This was his body, but someone was using it against his will. Someone, this… imposter, was the one that kept him chained away, away from controlling his body the way he wanted.
He was hurting Satoru.
“Are you going to let him use you like this, Suguru?”
Suguru didn’t think at all, hand moving to try and grab the imposter's neck, using all of his strength to try and crush the imposter's esophagus. Satoru called out to him, and he had to respond, showing Satoru that he was there and he wanted to return.
Wanted to protect Satoru, the being that made him desire more.
Satoru was held in place, and before his eyes, he saw Satoru get sealed in a box the size of his palm. The imposter picked it up, and Suguru could feel the dark satisfaction distantly, along with curiosity that changed to smug self-confidence.
Suguru felt hatred for the first time he could remember. This bastard used his body to seal his one and only, and that could not stand.
He didn’t know why, but he knew from the depths of his core that he had to find a way to get this bastard out of his body, to free Satoru from his prison. He knew he could use his body parts with enough force of will, but the mental exhaustion the action caused told him he couldn’t do it continuously. He was also aware that the imposter piloting his body would take measures if they knew Suguru could control his body even a little.
From what he was feeling, the imposter must think it was a one-off, and Suguru wanted them to think that was the case, waiting for the right time to strike. He bided his time with a wave of stewing anger, fury raging, only kept it in check because it would be useless to let the imposter know something was up.
All he could think about was how dare this imposter take over his body to hurt his sun, to seal them because Satoru was too strong. He knew instinctually that Satoru was the strongest person Suguru knew, mentally and physically, and that the imposter would never be able to win against Satoru.
Cursed technique or not, Suguru might not have many memories but knew he had power, a power he couldn’t grasp, the imposter taking it away from him, using it for himself. His cursed technique can’t do anything if he couldn’t access it.
Suguru watched as the imposter gaze over a city, watching people fight on both sides, a smug silent observer, not bothering to join the carnage. Suguru watched the proceedings with cold determination, waiting for a perfect time to strike. He didn’t recognize any of the people fighting, only some of them causing Suguru to have muted feelings as if they were people he vaguely passed by on the street.
The imposter made his move when a fight was almost over, when all the fights were practically over, swooping in at the last moment to steal a kill from two sorcerers that had seemed to win the battle if the imposter didn’t show up.
Then the imposter took the kill from them, absorbing the curse that Suguru understood instinctually.
Oh, he could use this.
A few days after the day Satoru was sealed, Kenjaku, the imposter, was in a safe house of his, feeling satisfied with his actions.
Suguru was waiting for the right moment, and he found it when Kenjaku was fixing the stitches on Suguru’s body’s head. The moment Kenjaku touched his brain, Suguru used all of the energy he had to reach deep inside him, accessing the curse Kenjaku absorbed that day and breaking through the control Kenjaku had over him.
He reached into the void his technique caused, taking advantage of his mental form, moving towards where he stores his curses, grasping the energy of the soul-transforming curse.
It struggled desperately, reaching out to damage Suguru, but Suguru’s will was stronger. No curse that was conquered by his technique could harm the user. Suguru used instincts he never knew he had when he had control of his body, ripping apart the curse at the seams and boldly grabbing the center of the curse, immediately bringing that power into himself.
Suguru felt world-ending agony, trying to tear his soul apart, but Suguru conquered it, crafting the power for his uses, ordering that it was his power now, no one else's. He molded it, etching the technique into his soul with the very soul-transforming power he conquered.
Suguru achieved what he needed.
Suguru, in a millisecond, took the curse's power as his own and took control of the hand touching Kenjaku’s brain. Kenjaku immediately tried to stop Suguru, a maddened scowl on Suguru’s face, but Suguru was one step ahead of the imposter.
Suguru sent the technique he acquired for himself, not using it as a minion he was supposed to, into Kenjaku’s brain.
Using his technique like this was as if he was using acid to gouge out paths in metal. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do this. The only reason he could was that Suguru was nonexistent, only a fragment of a soul, aware that he had a way to control the curses without taking them out of storage, incapable to do so since he didn’t have a flesh and blood body to reside in. The only way to use the power was to take it into his soul, uncaring for the side effects.
Another reason was because of the technique he conquered because it involved the soul, healing his soul while Suguru damaged it with the use of the power that wasn’t supposed to be possible.
If this didn’t work, the technique would rip him apart by the seams, his soul was not supposed to contain this technique. But that technique was the only reason he could heal the damage.
Suguru touched Kenjaku’s brain, immediately activating the technique, basically causing brain death, with how he was ripping apart the brain from the inside out.
Before the brain shut down, Suguru used the form his soul remembered, since he was listening when Kenjaku said the body was the soul and the soul was the body, so, of course, Suguru immediately used the form of his soul to form Kenjaku’s brain into something of his and his alone.
Suguru felt Kenjaku’s influence leave, like a leech taken from his skin, half anemic and half exhausted.
His knees buckled, brain unused to actually having a body to pilot. He sagged against the cold wall, and wasn’t that a novel, actually feeling anything? The world was louder than he thought, bringing a shaking hand to his face, seeing it tremble.
Everything was muddled, but it was getting clearer every second. Suguru jerked his head to the side, bones creaking at his movement. He wasn’t sure if his impromptu lobotomy damaged his new brain, but he grabbed the top part of his skull and scalp, feeling distantly disturbed he even had to.
Seeing his bloody scalp in front of his eyes would do that to people.
He put it back over his new brain, now feeling the gushing blood escaping from the wound. He put his shaking thumb on where Kenjaku would sew it with blackened stitches, activating his newly acquired cursed technique.
“Idle Transfiguration.”
He felt more than saw his head heal, blood stopping. It was a relief to have his skull back on, his body back under his control. Suguru put a hand on his chest, activating Idle Transfiguration, searching for a sign of the body invader.
He found Kenjaku in a jagged edge of his soul, noticeable with its pungent smell, Kenjaku trying to rot away his soul just by existing in a soul space that didn’t belong to them.
Suguru crushed Kenjaku’s soul with all the fury he held for days, making sure every speck of his soul could never appear again.
Suguru felt the adrenaline leave his body, making him collapse into the wall instead of sag. It took everything he had to escape and purge the invader from his body. He could tell that his soul was not in good shape, breaking at its edges when a gentle hit could shatter it. He would have to take some time to heal it fully with Idle Transfiguration, but the time he didn’t want to wait for.
Kenjaku was trying to make Culling Games around the world, using his techniques, and while he didn’t care much about everyone else, Satoru was still sealed, with the Prison Realm now at the bottom of the ocean.
And Satoru shouldn’t be sealed. He didn’t care if his soul was close to shattering. He only cared if he could free Satoru before it breaks.
Suguru took in a deep breath, feeling his lungs inflate and deflate. He would have to get used to having a body again, even though he didn’t remember ever using it. Suguru grabbed the sink, pulling himself up with shaking limbs, legs almost unable to hold his weight.
He jerked, with only his grasp on the sink keeping himself from falling back down. He looked blearily into the mirror, seeing violet eyes peaking through a blood-soaked face. He didn’t notice it before, but blood got into his mouth. He spits it out into the sink, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
His black hair was matted with blood, and only the skin on top of his head was spared from the crimson. Water left the faucet after trying a few times to turn it on, not caring if it was warm, splashing water on his face to wipe at least some of the blood off.
After a minute, he looked back into the mirror, absentmindedly touching his forehead, seeing a jagged scar where Kenjaku sawed his skull open. It hurt with phantom pain, but nothing he couldn't take, but it was a reminder of what happened to him, or at least what probably happened because he didn’t remember shit.
Suguru took a deep breath and made a plan.
Step one, order the curses under his control to retrieve Satoru.
Okay, he could do that without moving. He was afraid his body would give out if he moved much more, so he didn’t and collapsed onto the ground, blinking lethargically at the ceiling. He mentally ordered his curses to retrieve the Prison Realm from the depths of the sea, more grateful than ever that ordering his cruses didn’t need to use curse energy once summoned.
They will take a while before they get back to him, so Suguru, against his will, closed his eyes, trying to stay awake, but the darkness claimed him once more.
Suguru woke to exhaustion but was slightly better than before he passed out. His mouth was dry, stomach rumbling.
Suguru groaned, rolling over to push himself up. He walked shakily to a chair nearby, dropping into it with his whole weight. He checked in with his curses, happy to see they were carrying the Prison Realm to him and would arrive soon. Suguru wanted nothing more than to go to them but knew it would make no difference.
Suguru, with some time on his hands, activated Idle Transfiguration, starting to heal his soul. It was a mess, his soul fragmented and torn apart, but with the technique, the healing process started. It helped that he was in his body, so he could use it as a reference. It was slow going, but his work made his migraine abate slightly, notifying him that until his soul was in working order, he would not be able to fight as he should be.
Knowing only a fraction of the violence outside these walls, he knew he would need to be in fighting order.
He was able to heal his soul faster with some experience under his belt, so it moved more quickly than before, with only a few more kinks to work out before he could fight without worry. But before he could heal himself fully, unaware that multiple hours had passed, his curses reached him.
Suguru observed his surroundings after he passed out, seeing that this was an abandoned building that luckily had running water. Clean water was another thing. It made it easy for his curses to get to him, Prison Realm in hand.
When the curse that looked like a cross between an octopus and a sparrow dropped the Prison Realm in his hand, Suguru dismissed it and glanced at the box with shaking hands. The eyes in the box were an exact match for Satoru’s, full of light and the stars.
Satoru was in his hands, and Suguru’s heart beat faster with every passing second. He would be able to see the man he had wanted to see for who knows how long in that darkness, searching for his light like a man searching for his next fix.
He whispered the words, eyes softening unconsciously at the Prison Realm. His thumb caressed the box with affection, unable to hold himself back.
“Gate open.”
The Prison Realm shook, vibrating and floating upwards, escaping his hands. Suguru let it, watching the Realm shift and stretch, a smile on his lips. He started to feel a Cursed Energy that was so familiar yet not. It pressed on him like the ocean but gave him fresh air into his lungs. He breathed it in, held it in as long as he could. It caused the cells in his body to shake from the power but didn’t move away because it was Satoru.
The Prison Realm opened fully, causing an implosion of energy, making Suguru squint, setting his feet so he wouldn’t move.
The implosion stopped, letting Suguru see a man with white hair and blue eyes touch the ground, black fabric around his shoulders, wearing a black t-shirt and pants.
For the first time since Suguru woke, blue eyes met violet ones. Suguru grinned, eyes curling. He opened his mouth, not in control of his words, but not caring this time, since they felt right.
“You’re late, Satoru.”