Ugh.

"Are you the mentor figure?" asks Itadori. "I dig the aesthetic."

"Right in one, thanks!" He leans over to get the angle right, takes another picture of his apparent student, then gives a pleased hum. "Much better. So, where's the cursed object?"

Fushiguro falls onto the floor once more, sitting down this time, and points at Itadori.

Who opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and points in.

There is a long silence, as the mysterious mentor figure takes in this information.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously,"

they say in unison.

"In my defence we almost died!"

The blindfolded man lets out a soft bark that sounds almost like a laugh, then steps closer to Itadori to inspect him, leaning inches away and giving a thoughtful hum. He lifts the blindfold covering an eye, revealing one that is bright and blue and most of all piercing.

"You almost worse than died, kid. Damn, it really did combine with you."

And then he straightens back up, dropping the blindfold back to its proper location, the air of seriousness evaporating. "That's hilarious! Anything off with your body?"

"Got claws for a bit there, and tattoos, and..." He pokes the wrinkles that are now on the upper edges of his cheekbones. They had not been there before. "Used to have eyes here. Fine now, though."

"Uh huh. Can you swap out with Sukuna?"

He pauses for a second, then nods. "Yeah, reckon so."

"In that case," says the mysterious mentor figure, casually tossing the shopping bag on his arm to Fushiguro, "give us ten seconds with him. Then come back."

Fushiguro grabs the bag unthinkingly then blinks down at it. He opens his mouth, but then shakes his head and decides against asking.

"You're sure? He was going off about massacres and torture and stuff just before I shushed him."

"Of course he was. Don't worry." The man gives a smile. "I'm the strongest."

Fushiguro's eyes roll so hard it's a wonder they don't screw right off.

"Right-o, then."

He shuts his eyes and...

...Sukuna opens them, markings and claws and four eyes and all. "Cocky sorcerers," he says, and in the blink of an eye he's leapt right at Gojō—

Inches away from the sorcerer, he is stopped by - or to be more accurate, in - something.

And then the cocky sorcerer is behind him, cheerfully ruffling his hair. "It's part of our charm!" he agrees, brightly.

...the fuck?

He whirls around at a speed no one should by rights match and goes for the sorcerer's—eyes, probably, he keeps them covered for a reason.

Nope! The sorcerer is gone, and now behind him again. He cheerfully kicks Sukuna in the butt, smiling irreverently.

"But a cocky sorcerer that can't back it up never lasts long, do they?"

Clearly, someone is having fun.

Okay no this is getting ridiculous. He launches a flurry of attacks—one twentieth of his full power, speed, strength, true, but none but the most exceptional sorcerers should be able to dodge so many in such quick succession so unpredictably—