Yuuji can recognize a pattern when he sees one.

And this?

Whatever this is?

This is a pattern.

It is a curse appearing at three in the morning sporadically and Yuuji is going to just have to deal.

Or not really, it 's not a test of endurance since Uchiha Obito has

answers

but still, Yuuji needs his sleep. And being awakened rudely by a curse seems more like a pain than a blessing in the moment when his brain is addled by sleep and his eyes are threatening to close shut.

In fact, Yuuji thinks he feels rather grouchy about the whole thing. Not quite mad but not quite

happy

either.

It is a miserable experience to be roused from a nice sleep in general.

Yuuji will have it known that right now- this curse ranks about right next to Yuuji 's alarm ringtone.

Which is not very high.

Uchiha Obito just stares at him. No particular inflection in his expression other than bland boredom, maybe.

Yuuji really wanted to ask it questions, namely like:

how do you get your face to stay like that?

and

why do you look at me like I 'm a science experiment on water evaporation?

and

why are you here anyway?

Some of those questions aren 't quite important but he thinks he wants to know anyways.

'Is your teacher always skulking around like that? ' the curse asks suddenly. It is an abrupt question but asked with a bored cadence, as though the curse couldn 't care less.

Yuuji feels that there 's a bit of a contradiction there. If it couldn 't care less then it wouldn 't have asked.

But then again, maybe it was just doing one of those ice breakers. The foot in the door kind of thing where someone begins with something small and then they barge down your door entirely and you don 't even notice.

Yuuji had seen those videos, he knows things.

'Gojo-sensei is, uh, Gojo-sensei, ' Yuuji says, and that 's the truth, too. There 's really no other way to describe his teacher. The man exists in his own league in terms of uniqueness. It feels like Gojo-sensei was born and no one could describe his ubiquitousness other than

yeah, that 's just how Gojo Satoru is, Gojo Satoru.

'I see, ' the curse says, something flitting across its expression, Yuuji can 't quite place what it means. Nodding to itself and then to Yuuji. 'He 's unique and all that, right? '

Yuuji supposes so. With Gojo-sensei 's eyes and his personality, it wouldn 't be wrong to say that he was one of a kind.

'He 's just Gojo-sensei, ' Yuuji says in the end. He 's not quite sure how else to describe the man. He 's not the best at descriptions and trying to describe Gojo-sensei is trying to describe the nebulous sky. You can 't quite pin down an accurate picture of it. It 's like trying to describe the sky in all its states at once. When it 's sunny, when it 's raining, when it 's snowing- it 's like trying to describe the sky and everything it is but within a person.

So you just pack it up into one word and just say-

Oh, that 's the sky.

And everyone would know what you 're talking about, no need to describe the particular hue as the sun sets or the dimming light as cloud rolls over or the chill as snow descends.

It 's a bit complicated and Yuuji thinks he has better things to do with his energy than trying to accomplish the impossible.

'Gojo-sensei, ' the curse says. It almost feels as though it 's mocking the name somehow. But it doesn 't quite look it. Its eyebrows are pinched and there 's something in its expression- there one moment and gone the next. Like a passing whisper in the wind.

Again, Yuuji probably has better things to do than ponder on a curse 's expression. But he almost looks nostalgic. Like Yuuji 's grandpa when he looks at his old, crumbling photographs of him and his friends.

It 's almost like that- that kind of look, that kind of-

Ah, how long has it been?

and brushing your fingertips against the faces and background as though you can immerse yourself into the photograph itself.

Again, not good to compare a curse to one 's grandpa, Yuuji knows. But his mind is another thing entirely.

'You know him? ' Yuuji asks suddenly, unbidden.

The curse blinks, breaking himself out of its neutral expression.

Nevermind, it 's still neutral, just leaning towards mild shock with the raised brow.

'Of course, ' Uchiha Obito says, it 's almost sarcastic. It feels like a familiar thing, it fits with the mocking edge of the slight curl of Uchiha Obito 's lips and the way it drawls out its words. It feels like Uchiha Obito had only spoken with sarcasm and derision its whole life. Yuuji thinks that that is what the man was before he died, maybe, a sarcastic man with biting quip at the ready and discerning eyes that would probe into your soul for daring to make any stupid comments. 'We met with you there. '

Ah, well, it 's entirely Yuuji 's fault for reading too much into it, he supposes.

Though, was he? Was he really?

He doubts he 'll ever know.

'My bad, ' Yuuji says. 'It 's a bit difficult to think at three in the morning. '

He feels very much like a rebellious teenager right now and he can tell the curse is somewhat pleased- amused?- by his efforts. Its smile taking on a different edge, it is softer now, almost reminiscent.

Again, Yuuji wonders if all Uchiha Obito seems to see are old, wizened photographs. If the extent of its emotional output ranges from neutral to sarcastic then to nostalgic with really no in-between nor other emotions.

It is a dreadfully awful life, Yuuji thinks. To only live seeing everything as though it were an old, crumbling photograph rather than the present at which it is. It is like reading a book during a movie, but more extreme. Or like looking into the yearbook instead of calling your friends.

But then again, if this example were to hold true- Uchiha Obito doesn 't have any friends to call.

They 're all dead, probably.

Old people do that. Die.

They die and they leave you with memories and make you promise things that you 'll take to your own grave. They die and they leave you with nothing except their ashes and their old, dusty photos.

Again, it 's probably not good to relate to a curse.

Again, Yuuji can 't seem to stop.

He can 't seem to look at the curse and think-

Do you even have their photos?

It is a thought.

He thinks about living after his friends died, living as a curse.

He imagines dying and then waking up in another time. With only the clothes on his back and his own memories to prove that he 's not mad, but then again- how does he know that his memories aren 't fabricated- how does he know that anything is real at all?

He 'll look at a calendar and all he 'll think is,

that 's not right, that 's too far forward, it must be a mistake.

He thinks about waking up and having enemies at his heels who look at him and they 'll say,

Are you a curse?

And then all he can say is,

I wasn 't, but I am now.

It is a thought. It makes something inside Yuuji 's gut go all right side up and it 's just-

'How do you keep track of time? ' Yuuji asks. He 's not sure why he does so. It 's not like it 's a pressing matter. It 's not like it should matter. But the thought- the mere idea of living day to day and either facing the insanity that is the calendar but in the future or not knowing anything at all is maddening. Yuuji doesn 't think he 'd want to look at the date in the future, either, that 'd make it real somehow.

But then, again, to not know the day passing you by is even worse. It 's like living in an infinite nightmare and each day would seem so similar and-

'I used to keep track, ' Uchiha Obito admits, there is something heavy in its words. Something wry on its lips and something intense in its eyes. 'Marking down the day to a promised date. ' Uchiha Obito glances outwards. Glances up- to the moon, perhaps and its expression is an indescribable thing. 'It came and I stopped keeping track. '

'So you don 't know that it 's a Thursday right now? ' It 's probably an awful cut into what was probably an introspective answer but Yuuji 's brain is not equipped to deal with these kinds of things.

The curse barks out a laugh. It 's kind of dry and hoarse but it 's got a charm to it. A subtle thing that matches the curse somehow. That makes Uchiha Obito seem alive. If Yuuji were to peek through his fingers right now he thinks he can piece together the man that was once alive- not just a sarcastic man but someone that was cheerful, too, sometimes.

Someone that can laugh and you 'd think,

I want to keep hearing them laugh.

It 's that kind of thing, the kind of laughter that seems human and familiar and makes you want to laugh, too.

It 's awfully human.

But the curse was once awfully human, too.

He once died because he thought he 'd do good and he died and became a curse for it. He was a sarcastic, biting man but he was a

good

man.

It makes Yuuji 's throat go dry and his stomach boil.

'No, I don 't know that it 's a Thursday, ' the curse admits. 'It 's the same as any other day, isn 't it? '

Yuuji supposes it does. But then it 's also not. Each day is different from the last. Even though every day is technically a jujutsu tech day, it 's different in that the people are different. Even Megumi, with his loose routine, was different each day. People are spontaneous and so they shape Yuuji 's day.

He can 't imagine a day where he thinks,

Ah, everything 's happening all over again.

It sounds like a dreadfully boring life.

'It 's not, ' Yuuji disagrees. 'Each Thursday is different. '

The words feel wrong somehow. Then it clicks in Yuuji 's brain that it 's probably cruel to say it aloud.

Uchiha Obito no doubt knew that.

It was human, once.

It doesn 't need to be reminded that the world is spontaneous if only you lived in it.

The man known as Uchiha Obito had died a long, long time ago. Now all that 's left is a curse bearing his face and living

'Maybe it is, ' the curse replies. Its voice has gone back to neutral. No longer amused nor sarcastic, just the plain neutrality of a blank canvas. 'It 'd be nice, to see a Thursday where it snows. '

It is a bit of an odd comment. Snow on Thursdays isn 't so much as rare in winter. Oh, it 's not common but it 's not exactly

uncommon.

It just happens enough that you predict that it will and move on with your life.

It 's just one of those things you live with and either grow to hate or look at with a,

ah, that 's kinda nice.

And brings with you the feeling of a new year and new winter and the thought that it 's a novelty until it passes and the next winter comes and goes.

It 's just that kind of thing.

Yuuji doesn 't think the curse just means a Thursday where it snows. He thinks it means something else but he doesn 't quite know what.

So instead he just shrugs and says, 'Yeah, you just have to wait until winter. '

Sometimes people say things and they don 't mean exactly what they say. Sometimes they say things and it 's purposefully vague. And oftentimes, Yuuji doesn 't think he wants to pry. He doesn 't want to look beneath their words to find the meaning.

Sometimes, it 's just enough to take their words at face value, he finds. Just look at it for what it is because while it is vague-

Sometimes, they mean it.

Maybe Uchiha Obito does want to see snow on a Thursday. Maybe it 's more than that.

But to live for so long. To die and then to live again-

In another time, another place-

Maybe, a long time ago-

Uchiha Obito, a normal human- a normal sorcerer, had liked Thursdays with snow.

It 's not Yuuji 's place to speculate, but he does anyway. He can 't control his mind and where it goes but he finds that it 's a thought that brings him closer to

something.

It 's not his place to ask these questions, though, and he can control his mouth at least. So he doesn 't ask.

'The weather has been getting colder, ' Uchiha Obito acknowledges.

Yuuji raises a brow.

'It 's summer. '

The curse barks out a laugh. It doesn 't seem flustered, it doesn 't seem anything at all other than a blaise acknowledgment. It 's the kind of laugh that means everything and nothing.

'Right. '

They lapse into a strange silence, after that.

Yuuji then remembers that the curse doesn 't look at calendars, probably. And doesn 't care for the passage of time.

Why should it?

It 's a curse now. Curses don 't need to worry about time, they 're curses.

Yuuji wonders if curses can feel the sweltering heat of summer or the chill of winter.

They can feel pain, he supposes, but does that translate to temperature?

He feels that he isn 't a scientist nor does he want to be but his mind is going places regardless of his wants.

'I 'll tell you when it 's winter, ' Yuuji says. 'If you want. '

It 's an offering for something, although Yuuji doesn 't know for what. But he 's offering something and he doesn 't really want something in return. Sukuna would say that it 's stupid but Sukuna 's off being bored on his throne of bones and lies so he can go away.

The curse stares at him for a moment, almost like it 's waiting for a catch, waiting for Yuuji to continue.

It 's almost like it 's not used to being offered a small kindness.

It makes Yuuji wonder about Uchiha Obito, the human. Makes him wonder if this was how the man was. If this was how vessels were treated.

Weapons, Uchiha Obito had said.

They were weapons. Like the kind that the Zenin uses. Like the kind that Yuuji had and used on his first mission with Nobara. The kind that you use and it either works or it breaks and then you toss it aside.

It makes Yuuji 's throat dry up.

What does being a weapon really entail?

It 's not the same as 'comrade ' or 'ally ', that 's for sure.

There 's a fine line between the two. One is human, the other is not, or at least Yuuji had thought so until now.

To think of a vessel as someone to wield as a weapon is just-

It 's a bit offputting if Yuuji were to put it lightly.

He remembers breaking Slaughter Demon and feeling a mild 'crap ' and 'I guess there goes that one. '

He can 't quite think the same for vessels.

Can 't quite place the image of Slaughter Demon next to Uchiha Obito and equate them to the same thing.

A weapon is a weapon; a human is a human.

But what are vessels?

Yuuji thinks himself a human.

Uchiha Obito labeled them weapons.

It is an archaic way of thinking. Old and ancient and probably long buried.

Yuuji really doesn 't want to think about it.

'Have you seen snow before? ' Yuuji asks instead. It is a pathetic attempt at distraction. It is him putting words into his own mouth before it slips and he starts asking questions like,

what does it mean to be a weapon?

Being a weapon-

Yuuji imagines dying- like the Slaughter Demon breaking- and just seeing Megumi or Nobara looking down at him and just saying-

'Crap, there goes that one, I guess. '

Spoken carelessly, dismissively. Not a care in the world because weapons are weapons and humans are humans. There is a difference between the two and if a weapon or two just happen to break-

No one would care.

He looks at the curse, really looks at it and he wonders-

Did you even have a funeral? Did you even have a relative come to pick up your ashes? Or did you die- out in the wild and left for the curses and worms to pick at your body?

The curse shrugs, it is an elegant motion.

For a single moment, it felt as though it were an answer.

But it isn 't, because the question lays unasked because it is cruel and terrible and Yuuji doesn 't-

Some things are better left unknown.

'I have, it 's just snow. ' It sounds neutral again, no longer wistful. Breaking Yuuji out of his thoughts, imagining Uchiha Obito laying face up and dead, with no one to care because Uchiha Obito was a weapon and weapons don 't get funerals. 'It 's just cold and once it gets on your body it just melts right away. It 's kind of a pain. '

There is a brief hint of annoyance, there. Something clear in the way Uchiha Obito sort of squints and looks out the sky as though snow could fall anytime and he 'd punch it in the face.

It 's kinda human.

It 's very human, actually.

It 's human and the sort of thing one of those middle-aged salarymen would say when complaining about such or such on the way home or on their way to work or just anywhere. It 's the sort of complaint that 's just,

I can 't believe it 's raining, it 's such a pain

and

crap, I forgot my umbrella.

It 's mild and it 's human and it 's milquetoast in a way Yuuji couldn 't quite connect to a special grade curse and a now-dead vessel.

Yuuji doesn 't know what compels him to laugh, but he laughs anyways.

'Yeah, that sounds like a pain. '

Something flickers in Uchiha Obito 's expression. Again, old photographs and faded images.

Do you even have their photos?

Yuuji doesn 't think so.

Yuuji wonders if Uchiha Obito would ever forget.

It seems terrible.

Yuuji tries to imagine it.

Waking up one day and suddenly not being able to remember Megumi 's eyes or Nobara 's grins or Gojo-sensei 's hair.

A sort of vague-

ah, they probably looked like this, right?

and doubting his own thoughts.

He wonders if he 'll even have thoughts like that at all, or he 'll go mad and have gone rogue a long, long time ago instead.

He finds that he doesn 't want to think about it anymore but his mind can 't seem to

stop.

How long can you stare at a photo until the memories seem more like a dream?

How long can you stare at static images and clipped videos until you realized that you 've stared at them for longer than you 've been alive with them?

How long can you-

'How long has it been since you- '

Since you 've been dead. Since you 've turned from a human into the thing you were killing. Since you took your last breath. Since you-

'Since you 've seen the snow? '

Everything else feels cruel to ask. But the trigger 's been set and the runners had started running and so Yuuji had to ask something and-

It 's a lame question. It 's nothing important at all. It 's not the kind of information gathering that Megumi recommends or even the thing that Yuuji wants to ask. It 's just a miscellaneous question to a curse that Yuuji probably shouldn 't go around asking because miscellaneous things are what makes inhumane things

human.

It 's like taking a sharpie and putting eyes onto a cotton ball and suddenly that cotton ball has a name and

feelings.

Now it 's Yuuji taking the metaphorical sharpie and asking the curse questions and placing everything into a neat jigsaw puzzle that 'll leave him seeing Uchiha Obito instead of a special grade curse at the end of it.

But he can 't stop himself.

Like an avalanche, once he started to see glimpses of Uchiha Obito he just can 't stop asking. Like a pandora 's box- once you open it, you can 't look away.

It is his curiosity gripping. It is the wanting of kinship- it is looking at Uchiha Obito and thinking-

Could we have been friends- if you were born now or if I was born earlier? Would we have been comrades? Would the other vessels accept me? What would they think of me?

Yuuji can 't quite stop himself from

thinking

, from

wanting.

He was fine with being a vessel, really- he was fine with being a singular existence or whatever. Because it 's just what it is, right?

But now it 's not quite fine because there were others like him- there were vessels in the past and now they 're gone and now all that 's left is one Uchiha Obito to tell the story and he 's not saying

anything.

He 's just looking at Yuuji and saying random things that really mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. He 's looking at Yuuji and it 's like he 's looking at an old photograph. He 's looking at Yuuji and he seems so

human.

He 's looking at Yuuji and Yuuji can still remember the potent curse energy that inhabits Uchiha Obito 's body. A vicious thing that 's more curse than human. A thing that screeches like a thousand and one nails on the same chalkboard. A cacophony of echoes and regrets and anger.

Yuuji thinks he knows the ending to this story.

One day-

One day Uchiha Obito will no longer be Uchiha Obito.

Yuuji doesn 't know why he 's so invested but he

is.

He wants to know Uchiha Obito- he wants to hear the man answer things and say things that mean

something

and explain a long-forgotten history. He wants for them to get to sit down and talk history so that Yuuji can finally understand what it means to be a vessel other a someone with an expiration date on them.

He thinks there was something there. A history of something. A history that only one person can tell, now. If there are more out there Yuuji wouldn 't know- they haven 't approached him. But this one has. But the curse isn 't telling him anything.

Yuuji doesn 't think he has the right to ask, either.

It feels cruel to ask.

It 's like picking at a scabbed wound and hoping to find treasure underneath. But there 's no real treasure, not really. The era of vessels, if there were even anything resembling an 'era ', had long passed. There is no gold to be found beneath a scabbed wound, it 's just blood and more blood.

Yuuji isn 't the smartest, but even he knows that there 's something that happened. And now there 's only him as a vessel. He can hope for the best. Maybe it 's one of those gradual decline things. Maybe they just tapered out over time or something.

But he can 't know for sure.

There 's no history on it. Not even if Yuuji asks Gojo-sensei, who has nothing concrete to offer him other than a few sparse notes here and there of once vessels of curses of nonprominence.

There 's no one quite like Yuuji. Maybe it 's supposed to be flattering, that he 's

special.

But Yuuji doesn 't want to be special.

He doesn 't really know what he wants but what he wants isn 't to be a unique, singular being.

He just wants to be-

He thinks he 'd like it if there were more like him. If there were older vessels wondering about and he can just pop over and talk about things like:

Oh man, Sukuna was so annoying today, how do I tune him out?

or

How do I make Sukuna 's fingers taste more appetizing?

or just-

How 's the weather today?

It 's a lame question but he can 't help but imagine someone- a man with dark set eyes yet unnaturally pale hair turning to him. Scars on one side of his face with a curse energy that doesn 't scorch but instead is just is. The man would look at him and he 'd give a sarcastic or biting reply and Yuuji would just smile and the man would look at him and they 'd-

They 'd be comrades.

There 'd be more of them and the curse would be a man and Yuuji would be one part of a whole and they 'd be vessels together.

It 's awfully nice to think about.

It 's awfully nice to think about Uchiha Obito as human rather than not. It 's nice to imagine the what-ifs and maybes.

It 's nice to imagine stepping foot inside a room within Jujutsu Tech, one of many, and seeing another vessel miling about. It 's nice to think about them looking at him and smiling at him and accepting him. It 's just nice. Not that his life now isn 't nice on its own. With Megumi and Nobara and Gojo-sensei and Nanamin and-

It 's nice, but it 's just-

He wants to talk and complain about Sukuna and have it be a light joke rather than something that 's a little tense because Megumi remembered the last time Sukuna dug out his heart and Nobara doesn 't quite get what it means to have the King of Curses living in your mind and Gojo-sensei is Gojo-sensei.

So here Yuuji is-

Asking some lame question about the snow because he wants to capture that flashing mirage in his hands and just have a conversation with another vessel. Where they can talk weather or whatnot and he can just have this, just for now and just pretend that he 's not the only one left.

The sleep has long worn off. Now, all that 's left in Yuuji 's mind are questions that will never get an answer.

Questions that he doesn 't know if he even

wants

an answer.

Uchiha Obito shrugs, a casual movement that is- again- much too human.

There is something like a saccharine smile on Uchiha Obito 's lips. Almost as sharp and biting as its words.

'About a lifetime ago, ' Uchiha Obito says. A vague, nondescript answer that answers everything and nothing at the same time.

'Oh. ' Was Yuuji 's eloquent reply. What else can you even say in the face of that? A lifetime ago- from alive to dead and to alive-yet-not.

Yuuji thinks he has somewhat of a clue. He came back to life once before but he came back to life as a human.

Not as Sukuna, not as a curse. He came back as Itadori Yuuji.

'It 's a joke, ' Uchiha Obito says at last. Seeing Yuuji flounder under his answer. 'Don 't take it too seriously. '

Uchiha Obito 's smile is sarcastic in all the right places and his gaze is casual in all the right ways.

But something in Yuuji tells him that it wasn 't such a casual answer and joke.

But then again, Yuuji can 't get a read on Uchiha Obito.

From the moment it stepped into Yuuji 's life, he hadn 't been able to really get its expression nailed down. From its placid neutrality to vicious sarcasm to light casualness- Yuuji wonders which one of its expressions were real, wonder if any were real at all.

He wonders, briefly, if the curse can even feel emotions. Or it was just imitating the expressions of a long dead man.

He really doesn 't want to think about it.

He really doesn 't want to think about how Uchiha Obito is going to lose it all and maybe one day it 'll be Yuuji who loses who he is and started to imitate his expressions of the past rather than being able to feel anything at all.

He can 't stop thinking.

His mind is a quagmire of noises and imagined possibilities.

Interacting with Uchiha Obito only brings him headaches and stress.

Yet he can 't seem to

stop.

It 's like Pandora 's box.

Once you open it-

You can 't look away.

'Replication, there 's something familiar about that, ' Gojo Satoru muses. Kento is unimpressed, really.

'If there was a curse like that, no doubt we 've already heard of it, ' Kento replies. 'Or at least have some form of records. '

'No, no, ' Gojo dismisses readily, waving his hands as though to wipe away Kento 's idea on his perfect theories. 'Not curse. '

Again, a thoughtful Gojo Satoru was a bad one.

Again, Kento cannot do a single thing against it.

'Replication- there 's another word for it, isn 't it? '

Again, whatever it is that Gojo Satoru is thinking of-

'Ah, right- '

Kento wants no part in it, really.

'Copy. '

The vessel, Itadori, looks at him and he looks at Obito like he has the key to the universe.

Obito was a former terrorist.

This is a bit of a conundrum, Obito thinks.

But it 's not like he can say that- nor does he want to. Confessing his crimes and confronting it was one of the last things that Obito wants to do, actually.

Being a mass murderer tends to not reflect well upon a person and Obito knows enough to zip his mouth shut and just keep the ghosts haunting him in his memories.

And yet.

They appear before him regardless.

Itadori, the boy with Haruno Sakura 's hair and Naruto 's cheer. With a curse stuck in his gut and a destiny he can 't quite shoulder. Who has a teacher by the name of Gojo (

Gojo-sensei-

) with shock white hair and a piece of cloth covering eyes too powerful for its own good. With the same teasing drawl and casual stance- ready to pounce at a moment 's notice. With a genius ' confidence and self-reassurance, ready to scratch and tear at anything in his way.

People like Kakashi- they 're one in a generation. One in a lifetime-

And Gojo- whoever he is- isn 't quite a Kakashi.

But he isn 't far off either. It confuses Obito, sometimes, looking at a man that can be Kakahsi 's copy if only their fashion wasn 't so far off. If only Kakashi 's confidence wasn 't eclipsed by Gojo 's arrogance.

But it 's easy to confuse the two. It 's easy to just look through his hands and see an overlapped figure.

It 's terrible. Obito knows, objectively, that he shouldn 't do this. That things like this lead to madness and whatever else. That he should maybe, just maybe, do the healthy thing and acknowledge that Kakashi was gone in another land, that Obito died and left him behind and that Gojo is another man entirely but-

Once he starts thinking-

He can 't seem to

stop.

It feels as though the more he wants to stop, the more he tries to stop thinking the more the images overlap. The more he sees Naruto in Yuuji 's smile, the more he overlays Haruno Sakura 's shade of pink over Itadori Yuuji and wants to rub at his eyes because it doesn 't quite

match.

The more he wants to look into Gojo 's eyes and replace it with something else because it 's not

right.

It doesn 't match. It 's not a perfect match and Obito wants it to be.

Obito wants to grasp something familiar in his hands and he wants to see Kakashi and he wants to get to be where he 's meant to be.

But Obito has never gotten what he 's wanted, and this will be no different.

His mind refuses to stop, regardless.

'Stop whatever you 're thinking, ' Obito says.

It 's both to himself and to Itadori Yuuji.

It is a warning.

He can see the boy 's mind working, tolling and tolling. He doesn 't know what for but he knows it 's about himself.

Itadori looks at him like he holds the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Obito was a terrorist.

It 's better to snip these kinds of things in the bud.

Itadori winces, as though caught with his hand in his parent 's wallet. It is childish and right because Itadori is still a child- still so young and

he 's a Jinchuuriki and those Jinchuuriki died because of you, don 't you remember- Obito-

'I 'm trying, ' Itadori says.

It 's not working

is the implied message.

And really- Itadori and Naruto and-

They were all so similar.

Once their minds get racing, once they latch onto a thought-

They can 't quite stop.

Uchiha Obito, veteran hypocrite, opens his mouth and says:

'Try harder, then. '

He thinks it 's best if he can 't see Itadori 's face. See the way the boy 's hair spikes and maybe trick his own eyes into seeing blonde instead of an off-shade pink.

It is like a dam broken.

Once it has- there is no going back against the currents.

'Hello, hello, ' Gojo Satoru says. It is kind of teasing and familiar and he can already feel the dread curling in his stomach at the man 's next request. Amazing, how so much can be heard and felt just through a phone call. Most probably due to Gojo Satoru 's impressive ability to sound like himself no matter the distance.

'Sensei, ' he acknowledges. 'Is this about Itadori Yuuji? '

Gojo-sensei laughs and they 're already off to a bad start.

It 's the kind of laugh Gojo Satoru does when he 's about to utterly ruin your day and has no care for your feelings on the matter.

It 's the kind of laugh Gojo Satoru does when dropping a nameless cursed teenager into a school for exorcising curses and expecting everyone to deal.

Each time is no less stress inducing than the last.

'Something related to that, I guess? ' Gojo-sensei hedges. It is casual and light and he can tell that Gojo Satoru is about to drop a piece of terrible, awful news onto him. 'But not really? '

'Is there something I need to know? '

There is a brief moment 's pause, as though Gojo Satoru is figuring out the worst possible way to break the news.

Again, stress inducing for all that he 's grown and gotten somewhat used to the man.

But can you ever be used to Gojo Satoru?

Doubtful.

'Ah, hmm, well, you know how your family history is kind of spotty and really suspicious and wow you were kind of related to a certain someone in our grand history? '

Again, stress.

'Yes, sensei. '

Gojo-sensei laughs and

again,

stress is accumulating and it 's terrible.

'So, theoretically, if there 's someone out there with a replication- copy- cursed technique, would you say they 're related to you, Yuta? '

This is precisely what Yuta was talking about.

Gojo Satoru does that laugh and he 's going to ruin your day and maybe your life without a single care on your feelings.

'What? ' It is a miracle that Yuta can choke out a reply at all to that bizarre hypothetical.

It 's probably not a hypothetical.

Gojo Satoru laughs.

So it 's definitely not a hypothetical and

Yuta definitely has a mystery relative that sprung up from the earth.

"So, what do you think of a little gender reveal announcement?"

"Sensei, who, what, when, where-

sensei-

" If it sounds like Yuta is begging for Gojo Satoru to stop, it is because he is. He's pleading to a god of some kind to step in and step up. But, just like how any god turns a blind eye to natural disaster, so, too, do they look away from Gojo Satoru.

'Congratulations, Yuta, it 's a curse. '

'What? '

Gojo Satoru laughs.

Okkotsu Yuta 's day is ruined.