iloveacaibowls111

[iloveacaibowls111]

My Little Princess

synopsis: Suguru unwillingly becomes Nanako and Mimiko’s little princess

A/N: His long hair is just calling out to be braided and placed into different hairdos :)

“Daddy! Come back!” Mimiko and Nanako cried out, reaching for Suguru as he made his way out of the room. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at their pleading faces, and sighed, knowing he couldn't resist their pouts and puppy eyes.

With a soft smile, he turned back, leaning against the door frame. "Fine," he murmured, trying to sound unbothered but failing to hide the fondness in his voice. "What do you two want now?"

The girls exchanged a sly look, grinning wide. "It’s makeover time!" Nanako exclaimed, pulling out a small, glittery box brimming with hair clips, ribbons, and an assortment of glittery eyeshadow palettes. Mimiko clapped her hands in excitement, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, though he could already feel himself giving in. “A makeover? Isn’t that… a little much?”

“Come on, Daddy!” Mimiko protested, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the couch. “You promised you’d play with us today!”

Suguru sighed in defeat, plopping down with exaggerated reluctance. “Alright, alright. But only for a little while.”

The girls jumped into action, and soon Suguru felt the gentle brush of Mimiko’s fingers through his hair while Nanako rummaged through her little box of treasures. They twisted his dark hair into small, playful braids, adorning them with colorful clips and tiny bows, all while chatting excitedly about what they’d do next.

As the final touch, Nanako dabbed a little pink glitter on his cheeks and surveyed their work with satisfaction. “Perfect!” she declared, clapping her hands. “You’re officially our little princess, Daddy!”

Suguru looked at himself in the mirror Nanako handed him, raising an eyebrow at the gleaming sparkles and bold accessories. "Princess, huh?" he said with a bemused smirk, seeing how happy it made them.

“Yes! Our little princess!” the girls chimed together, giggling.

He laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread in his chest. Maybe being their "princess" wasn’t so bad after all.

[iloveacaibowls111]

KFC Breakup

synopsis: basically the KFC breakup :(

A/N: I finished one exam but I absolutely flunked it lol and I have one more so I thought to just post this for now. btw the dialogue isn't accurate, sorry:)

Everything changed in that one year.

I remember the exact day all too well. Satoru’s angry yells, Shoko’s sigh of disbelief, and my own betrayed tears. The day we found out that Suguru had killed his own parents. The day we lost him forever.

2007 was a tough year. With the death of Riko Amanai and the incident with Toji Fushiguro, it wasn’t surprising that Suguru had grown quieter. His face had become more gaunt, his eyes more sunken and swollen. Looking back, I should have seen the signs. I always prided myself on being observant, on catching the details that slipped by others. Like how Satoru's eyes would brighten, turning a shade bluer, whenever Suguru was nearby. The way they whispered about secret messages, casting stolen glances when they thought no one was watching. I noticed everything. Or, at least, I thought I did.

But obviously, I wasn’t as clever as I believed. I should have asked him if he was okay—basic human decency, really. But I didn’t. Maybe it was because of what I was dealing with that year, my own messes. Still, that’s no excuse. We were a group, best friends. And in the end, none of that mattered.

“He wouldn’t kill his parents! He’s not a monster!” Satoru's furious voice echoed down the halls as he argued with Yaga. The rage in his tone was palpable, raw. Shoko and I sat outside the classroom, backs against the cold wall, listening in silence. The smoke from her cigarette drifted towards me, stealing what little breath I had left.

“I can’t believe it,” I whispered, more to myself than to Shoko. She stared into the distance, her expression unreadable, even after all the years I'd known her. The thought of Suguru, our calm, collected Suguru, committing something so horrid—it shattered the way I saw the world.

“He’s an idiot,” Shoko finally said, her voice low, almost tired. Her gaze shifted to mine, and I could see something fragile there, something that flickered and then disappeared. “Did he really think he could get away with it?” She exhaled slowly, her head falling forward. “He’s going to end up dead.”

Tears stung my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. To me, it was like he was already gone. The Suguru I knew—the one who hoisted me onto his shoulders just so I could be taller than Satoru, who shared his test answers with a grin, who made me food when I was too tired to care—was gone. The one who was there for me in ways no one else could be.

“Don’t cry. It’s not your fault,” Shoko’s soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I rested my head against her. Her steady heartbeat was the only sound in the world that made sense.

“I should’ve seen the signs,” I muttered, my voice thick with guilt. “I was too wrapped up in my own problems to notice him slipping away. He was like a brother…”

I glanced up at her. “Shouldn’t you be more upset, considering... you know?” I searched her face for something—grief, sadness, anything—but her expression was as calm as ever.

“He’s chosen his path,” she replied simply. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” She stood, pulling me up with her. “Come on, let’s go get some food. That always cheers me up.”

And just like that, we walked away from the weight of the conversation, heading towards the nearest KFC. Go buckets were our thing.

----------

We ate in silence, the clatter of plastic forks and crumpling of napkins filling the empty space between us. The KFC that once felt like our little haven now seemed dim, almost suffocating. When we stepped outside, the air felt different, heavy with unspoken tension. The sky was a dull shade of gray, the kind that seemed to absorb sound, making everything feel quieter than it should have been.

Shoko lit another cigarette as soon as we hit the pavement. The sharp smell of smoke mixed with the greasy remnants of our meal clung to the cool evening air. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to shake the gnawing feeling in my chest. We were just kids, weren’t we? How did everything get so messed up?

And then I saw him.

Suguru was standing across the street, partially hidden in the shadow of a closed storefront. His posture was tense, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his long coat, his hair pulled back in a loose knot. I nudged Shoko, and she turned to follow my gaze. She exhaled smoke slowly, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto him. “Speak of the devil.”

Without thinking, I started walking toward him, my feet moving before my mind could catch up. Shoko called my name, but I barely heard her. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might explode out of my chest. This was my chance—my chance to ask him why. To ask what the hell happened to the Suguru I knew, the one who used to laugh and joke and care.

I stopped a few feet in front of him. He looked… different. His face, once familiar and soft in its expressions, was now hard, closed off. The playful warmth that used to dance in his eyes was gone, replaced by something cold, distant.

“Suguru,” I said, my voice sounding weaker than I wanted it to.

He didn’t respond right away. His eyes flicked over me, then past me to Shoko, who was still standing across the street, watching us carefully. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“I guess you found out,” his voice was low, almost detached, like he was speaking to someone he didn’t recognise anymore. 

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. “How could you?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “How could you do this? To your parents… to us?”

For a brief moment, something flashed in his eyes. Was it regret? Pain? I couldn’t tell. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Then help me understand!” I shouted, my words sharper than I intended. “You shut us out, and then you… you kill your own parents? What the hell happened to you, Suguru?”

He flinched at my words, and for the first time, I saw a crack in his façade. But just as quickly, his expression hardened again. He turned his back to me, his shoulders hunched like the weight of everything was crushing him.

“I did what had to be done,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s not an answer!” I took a step closer, the desperation clawing at my throat. “We were your friends, your family. You didn’t have to do this alone. You didn’t have to—”

“I had to,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and sharp. He turned to face me again, his eyes blazing with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “You don’t get it, do you? The world isn’t the same as it was. It’s broken, twisted. I’ve seen it, felt it. And I’m done pretending it’s not.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my emotions in check, but the tears were already welling up in my eyes. “So what? You just... kill your parents because the world’s messed up? You become a monster?”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, he looked truly angry. “I’m not the monster,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “The world is. And I’m going to fix it, no matter what it takes.”

I shook my head, feeling the tears spill over. “This isn’t you, Suguru. The Suguru I knew wouldn’t—”

“The Suguru you knew is gone,” he cut me off, his tone final. “He died a long time ago.”

I stood there, stunned, unable to move. His words were like knives, cutting deep, leaving me hollow. The person standing in front of me wasn’t the friend I had known for so long. He was someone else entirely, someone I didn’t recognize.

I heard Shoko approaching from behind me, her footsteps slow and deliberate. “He’s made his choice,” she said, her voice calm, as if she had already resigned herself to this reality. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Suguru looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—something almost like sorrow—but it was gone as quickly as it came. He turned away from us, his back now facing the setting sun, casting a long shadow across the street.

“Go home,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “This is goodbye.”

I stood there, frozen, as he began to walk away. My legs felt like they were made of lead, and my chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid. Shoko tugged at my sleeve gently, urging me to follow her.

“Let him go,” she whispered.

----------

I stood there, watching Suguru walk away. I felt as though everything I thought I knew suddenly turned out to be false. 

Just then, I heard footsteps. Fast, determined, and unmistakably familiar.

“Suguru!” Satoru’s voice cut through the air, filled with an intensity I’d never heard from him before. My heart stopped for a moment as I turned and saw him storming toward us, his eyes blazing with fury and pain.

Suguru didn’t turn around. He kept walking, shoulders squared, as if he hadn’t heard him. But I knew he had. He was bracing himself.

“Suguru!” Satoru yelled again, his voice louder, more desperate. He closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds, grabbing Suguru’s arm and yanking him around to face him.

The look in Satoru’s eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Gone was the playful, carefree Satoru we all knew. In his place was someone filled with raw anger, disbelief, and heartbreak.

“You’re not walking away from this,” Satoru spat, his grip tightening on Suguru’s arm. “Not without giving me a real explanation.”

Suguru glanced down at Satoru’s hand, then back up to meet his gaze, his expression cold and unreadable. “Let go.”

Satoru didn’t move. “No. Not until you tell me why. Why did you do it? Why did you kill your own parents, Suguru? What the hell happened to you?!”

Suguru’s eyes flickered for a moment, but his voice was calm, almost chilling in its detachment. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Satoru.”

“You owe me everything,” Satoru snarled. “We were supposed to do this together! You don’t get to decide to leave and ruin everything without even—”

“We were never doing this together,” Suguru interrupted, his voice sharp now. “You just didn’t see it. You, with your infinite power, your perfect control—you’ll never understand what it’s like to feel powerless. To see the world broken and know you can’t fix it.”

Satoru’s jaw tightened. “Don’t act like this is about saving the world, Suguru. You’ve lost it. You—”

“I’m not the one who’s lost,” Suguru snapped back, pulling his arm free from Satoru’s grip. “I’m the only one who sees the truth. The only one who’s willing to do what’s necessary.”

“Necessary?!” Satoru’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “Murdering your parents was necessary?”

“They were part of the problem,” Suguru shot back, his eyes hard. “Weak. Clinging to a broken system. Just like the rest of you.”

I could see it then—the way Satoru’s hands clenched into fists, the way his whole body tensed like he was barely holding himself together. He was on the edge, and Suguru knew it.

“Suguru…” Satoru’s voice dropped to a dangerous, quiet tone, the kind that sent a chill down my spine. “Don’t make me do this.”

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Suguru stood still, his face betraying nothing, while Satoru’s gaze was fixed on him, filled with a storm of emotions that I could barely comprehend. Anger. Betrayal. Heartbreak.

----------

“You don’t have to do this, Suguru,” Satoru’s voice cracked, barely a whisper now. “We can still fix this.”

For the first time, Suguru’s mask slipped. He looked up at Satoru, and I saw it—the pain, the regret, the weight of everything he’d done. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. His eyes hardened, and he spoke the words that shattered whatever hope we had left.

“There’s nothing to fix, Satoru.”

Satoru’s hand trembled, and for a moment, I thought he might break. But then he let go, slowly standing up, his eyes filled with an unbearable sadness.

Suguru rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his coat. The tension between them hung thick in the air, but neither of them said another word. It was over. Whatever they had, whatever bond had tied them together for all those years, was gone.

I wanted to say something—to stop Suguru, to plead with him—but the words wouldn’t come. I just stood there, helpless, as he turned and started walking away, his figure growing smaller with each step.

Satoru didn’t move. He just watched, his fists clenched at his sides, his head bowed slightly.

As Suguru disappeared into the distance, I finally found my voice, shaky and broken. “Satoru…?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence said everything.

Suguru was gone.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

[iloveacaibowls111]

😩😩😩

made for showstopper

guys it's literally ss megumi.. (istg i don't like him)

[iloveacaibowls111]

Old Habits Die Hard

synopsis: life with toji is hard, especially because he just can’t seem to let go of his bad habits

A/N: Finally finished exam, it was so hard.

As you turn the handle of your apartment door, a sigh escapes you, filled with frustration and disappointment. The living room was a mess—clothes scattered across the couch, empty takeout boxes on the coffee table, and a faint smell of smoke lingering in the air.

“Toji?” You call out, hoping he was just napping or in the shower. Silence meets you. You check each room, but there’s no sign of him. With a heavy sigh, you let your grocery bags drop to the floor and reach for your phone. You find his name and press call, listening to the ringing with a knot forming in your stomach.

“Hey, doll. What’s up?” Toji’s voice greets you, casual and warm, but in the background, you catch the unmistakable sounds of slot machines and loud voices.

“Hey, where are you?” You try to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard. After a long pause, you mutter, “Please tell me those sounds I’m hearing aren’t from a casino.”

There’s a brief silence, and then he mutters, “Wait, hang on. Lemme just get somewhere quieter.” You hear him shuffle around, the sounds of the casino fading a little. “Look, doll, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, really?” you reply, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “Because it sounds exactly like what I think.”

He sighs. “I know, I know… but you gotta trust me. I’m just here for a quick thing. You know it’s not easy quitting everything cold turkey.”

“Toji, you promised.” The words come out softer than you intended, laced with hurt. "You said you’d stop gambling, stop... all of this, to be here with me. I can’t keep doing this if you’re not really trying.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even listening. Finally, he says, “I’ll be home in a bit, okay?”

You hang up, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in deeper. You want to believe him—believe that he’ll change, that he’ll leave his vices behind for good. But as you look around the messy apartment, you wonder how much longer you can keep hoping.

The silence after the call feels heavier than the empty apartment around you. You set down your phone, numb, and look at the mess he left behind. It's not just the clothes and empty takeout containers scattered across the room; it’s the broken promises, the nights he said he’d be here and wasn’t. It’s feeling like you’re holding onto something that’s slowly slipping through your fingers, no matter how tightly you cling.

You sit on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, wondering if he’ll even come home tonight. Dinner sits untouched on the table, the hours stretch on, and you lose track of time until, sometime after midnight, you hear the door click open.

Toji steps inside, looking rougher than usual. He closes the door quietly, his gaze scanning the room before finally landing on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything.

“Hey…” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. He scratches the back of his neck, the weariness in his eyes mirroring the ache in your own.

You let the silence hang, too tired to make it easy for him this time. He shifts uncomfortably, like he knows it too.

“I messed up,” he says eventually, sinking down onto the couch next to you. He lets out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face before looking at you. “I keep saying I’ll stop, that I’ll change, and then… I don’t. I know it’s not fair to you.”

Your chest tightens, a mix of hurt and anger bubbling up. “Toji… do you even know what it’s like for me?” Your voice cracks a little, but you press on. “Waiting here, wondering if you’ll come home… if you even want to be here? I’m trying to hold on to something, but I don’t even know if you’re reaching back.”

His face softens, the casual front finally falling away. He reaches out slowly, hesitating before resting his hand over yours. “I do want this. I want us,” he says quietly, his voice rough with regret. “I just… I keep screwing it up. You don’t deserve that, and I hate myself for it.”

The confession hangs between you, raw and unpolished, and it stirs something in you. You swallow, letting out a shaky breath. “Then stop hating yourself and just… be here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t need perfect. I just need you.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, and for the first time in a long time, you feel him really holding onto you, as if he’s as afraid to lose you as you’ve been of losing him.

“I’ll make this right,” he murmurs into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I know I’ve said it before, but… I mean it this time. I’m done making promises. I’ll just… show you.”

In his arms, you let yourself exhale, feeling some of the hurt ease, replaced with the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[iloveacaibowls111]

he's so yummy

Duality of man

[iloveacaibowls111]

Mama's Boy

synopsis: i think megumi likes you a little more than toji. AU! where you are Megumi's mom and Toji's wife.

A/N: I'm sorry, fight me, but Megumi is the biggest mama's boy in the whole entire world.

“Say ‘Dada.’ Daaa-daaa!” Toji repeated, his voice softening with exaggerated sweetness as he tried once again to get Megumi to look at him. But Megumi, stubborn as ever, just glanced back at you with an adoring gaze, his small hands reaching out for you with a delighted giggle.

Toji let out a dramatic sigh, falling back onto the couch beside you with a hand over his heart, feigning defeat. “You spoil him,” he teased, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Now he’s got no time for his old man.”

“Oh, please,” you chuckled, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “You know that’s not true. He adores you.”

Toji raised a skeptical brow, glancing down at the baby nestled in your lap, who was still staring up at you with pure adoration. “Sure doesn’t look like it,” he murmured, but the gentle smile on his face betrayed his mock jealousy.

You glanced down at Megumi, who was now curiously tugging on the edge of Toji’s sleeve with a tiny hand, his eyes bright with interest. “See?” you whispered to Toji, giving him a wink. “He loves his dad. Right, Megumi?”

Toji softened, his hand coming up to gently brush Megumi’s hair back from his forehead. “Yeah? You do love me, don’t you?” he murmured, a warmth filling his voice as he watched Megumi’s little fingers curl around his thumb.

Just then, Megumi let out a small, babbling sound that vaguely sounded like “Da.” Toji’s face lit up instantly, his eyes wide with excitement. “Did you hear that? He almost said it! Come on, buddy, one more time—say ‘Dada!’”

Megumi just blinked at him, then promptly turned back to you, letting out a gleeful squeal as he grabbed for a lock of your hair. Toji let out another groan, though you could see the pride in his eyes as he watched you and Megumi together.

“You know what?” Toji said, scooping Megumi up and holding him over his head as the little boy giggled. “I’ll take the second favorite spot—just as long as I get my turn for some attention, too.”

Megumi reached out, grabbing onto Toji’s nose with a giggle, and you laughed as Toji let out a surprised laugh of his own, his eyes crinkling with joy. For a moment, he just held Megumi close, gently bouncing him in his arms as he looked at you with a soft smile.

“Alright, alright, maybe he likes me too,” Toji conceded, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Megumi’s head before glancing back at you, his gaze filled with pure affection.

[iloveacaibowls111]

A Love Unborn

synopsis: sequel to Wifey Material, angst with hurt comfort.

TW: Miscarriage is mentioned throughout (not described in extreme detail)

A/N: Once again like the previous post I got heavily inspired by Charlotte York as I had just watched the SATC episode where she unfortunately miscarriages. I even referenced the Tiffany baby rattle ☹️.

As you sat on the toilet, you couldn’t bear to turn over the pregnancy test on the sink. You and Nanami had been trying for a baby for about 2 months now and so far there were no apparent fruits of your labour. You were beginning to lose hope when your period was gone for 2 weeks. So, you did the sensible thing and dragged one of your good friends, Nicole, out and to buy a pregnancy test with you.

“What if I’m not?” You anxiously ask, finger repeatedly tapping the pregnancy test box.

“What if you are?” Nicole replied, taking the box away from your anxious hands. “And if you’re not, that’s okay. It’s normal. You are 26, not 56. I’m sure you have tons of eggs left waiting for sperm to fill them up.”

“Ew, don’t say that.” You laugh. “But you’re right.” 

Nicole took your arm and dragged you to the pharmacy counter. She gave you a slight hug, reiterating her support for you. 

———

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the two minutes slowly took place. Nanami was at work but he had promised you that when you got the news you would call him straight away. As the timer on your phone blared out, you took a deep breath and slowly reached out for the test. With shaking hands, you picked it up and slowly brought it in front of you. Now, your whole body was pretty much shaking and there was a part of you that didn’t want to turn over the test, didn’t want to come in terms with the fact that you were not pregnant, again. 

You can do this, you thought to yourself before you finally turned it around. Your eyes immediately saw the two lines, clear as a summer’s day. You screamed in exhilaration, jumping up and down joyfully. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it. A surge of joy and disbelief washed over you as you stared at the test, double-checking the two unmistakable lines that confirmed it. Tears pricked your eyes, and your hands flew to your mouth as you tried to hold back the rush of emotions. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing prepared you for the overwhelming wave of happiness now that it was real.

You grabbed your phone with trembling fingers, scrolling to Nanami’s number. You held your breath as the phone rang, heartbeat thumping in anticipation. When he picked up, his warm, familiar voice instantly made you feel at ease.

“Hey, love,” he said, his tone instantly comforting. “Everything okay? Did you take the test?”

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, already thick with emotion.

There was a pause as he held his breath, waiting. “And…?” His voice softened, a mix of hope and gentle anticipation.

You could feel your heart swelling with happiness as you spoke, “It’s positive, Nanami. I’m pregnant!” The words were full of joy, like they couldn’t wait to tumble out.

You heard him inhale sharply, a stunned silence on the other end as he absorbed the news. Then, a quiet, relieved laugh escaped him. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yes, we’re really going to be parents,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks as you laughed, the joy bubbling up in both of you. “It actually happened.”

“I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “I knew we were hoping, but… hearing you say it out loud—this feels incredible.” He paused, and you could hear the soft emotion in his voice. “Thank you, my love, for making this dream come true with me.”

The two of you shared a moment of silent wonder on the phone, both overwhelmed by the reality of what lay ahead. You could practically feel his warmth through the line, his hand reaching out for yours in spirit, holding on as the reality of this new adventure took hold. After a moment, he spoke, his tone warm and full of love. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. We need to celebrate this together.”

———

When Nanami finally came through the door later, he was practically glowing with happiness, his face breaking into a wide smile the moment he saw you. Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling you close and holding you tightly. After a moment, he leaned back, one hand drifting to your stomach as he met your eyes, his gaze full of warmth and quiet joy.

“This is it,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Our family is beginning.”

You placed your hand over his, feeling a shared surge of excitement and tenderness. “It’s really happening, Nanami. We’re going to be parents.”

His smile softened, and he bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to go through this journey with you.”

“I have a surprise for you…” Nanami began, reaching behind his back to produce a small blue box wrapped with a white bow. His gaze softened as he held it out to you. “I bought this when we first decided on having a baby.”

Your heart fluttered as you took the box from his hands, carefully untying the bow. Inside was a beautiful Tiffany baby rattle, gleaming and elegant. It looked just like the one Charlotte had in SATC.

“Kento! It’s just like Charlotte York’s!” you exclaimed, a mix of joy and nostalgia filling your voice. “I love it.”

Nanami’s smile warmed, his eyes holding a gentle pride as he watched your reaction. Wrapped in his arms, you could not wait for the future where your little family was just a little bigger.

———

A month later, you and Nanami had already begun planning for the baby.  The spare room, which had once served as your closet overflow space, was slowly being transformed into a nursery. 

“Pastel yellow for the walls, please. We don’t know the gender yet!” You inform the painter who just gave you a caring smile. You felt almost giddy with joy from the past month. Every evening, Nanami and you would sit together, pouring over lists of essentials, talking about baby names, and picturing what life would be like as parents. 

As you left the painter to begin painting the walls, you suddenly felt a sharp pang in your stomach. You suddenly felt uneasiness in your stomach. The sharp pang brought you to a standstill, your hand instinctively moving to cradle your stomach. You took a shaky breath, trying to convince yourself it was nothing—just an ordinary cramp, something minor. But the feeling lingered, gnawing and unsettling, and your heart sank as worry took root.

Nanami was at work, so you texted him quickly, keeping it light: “Feeling a bit off, but I’m sure it’s fine.” You didn't want to alarm him, and part of you wanted to believe it was nothing to worry about. But when the pain returned, sharper this time, you found yourself reaching for your phone again, and before you knew it, you were calling him.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, not wanting to voice the fear building inside of you. “I… I think something might be wrong,” you whispered, the words tasting bitter and strange. “Can you come home?”

He promised he’d be there as soon as possible, and you could hear the worry in his voice even as he tried to stay calm for your sake. Waiting for him felt endless, each second stretching longer as the uneasiness grew into dread. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

———

When Nanami finally arrived, he rushed to your side, taking one look at you before pulling you into his arms. “Let’s go,” he said softly, guiding you to the car, his hand firmly in yours the entire time. The drive to the hospital was quiet, tense. He kept glancing over at you, giving your hand small, reassuring squeezes, his jaw tight, though he kept his worry hidden as best he could.

At the hospital, things happened too quickly and yet painfully slow—machines, concerned faces, hushed voices. They asked you questions, too many questions, and you barely had the energy to answer. All you could feel was the coldness of the room, the heaviness pressing in on you. Nanami held your hand the entire time, his presence grounding you as you waited, desperate for answers, but terrified of what they might say.

When the doctor finally spoke, her voice gentle and filled with the kind of sympathy you’d hoped you’d never have to hear, the words barely registered at first. “I’m so sorry… but unfortunately, you’ve lost the baby.” Her voice was soft, but the words struck like a hammer, shattering the fragile hope you’d clung to.

You stared at her, numb, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Beside you, Nanami’s grip tightened on your hand, his face pale as he absorbed the news, his eyes brimming with the same disbelief, the same anguish that you felt. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he simply pulled you close, holding you tightly as you both fell apart.

———

Back home, the apartment felt different—empty, echoing with a silence that seemed to mock the joy and laughter that had filled it just days before. The room that had started becoming a nursery now felt haunting, a reminder of the life you’d imagined, a future that had vanished before it had even truly begun. You stood in the doorway, staring at the freshly painted yellow walls, feeling like a stranger in a place that had once held so much hope.

“Well, I guess there was no need to pay the painter to do the walls that colour. ” You said, your voice strained. 

Nanami wrapped his arms around you from behind, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered, “I’m so sorry… I wish I could take this pain away from you.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I wanted this so much,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “I wanted to give us a family. I wanted—” Your words faltered, lost in the ache that seemed to consume every part of you.

He turned you around to face him, his own eyes red-rimmed, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice filled with a fierce, quiet determination. 

But you couldn’t bear to look at him. “But it is,” you choked out, pulling back, the weight of guilt pressing down on you. “I couldn’t do the one thing I was supposed to do. I couldn’t give us a baby.” Your voice broke, and the words spilled out, raw and painful. You turned away from his reach, feeling a need to retreat, to let the numbness consume you. “I’m… I’m going to bed,” you murmured, barely recognising your own voice.

“Y/N…” Nanami called out, walking towards you.

“Please.” You cried out, “I need to be alone right now.”

———

The next few days were a blur. People came by, offering condolences, leaving flowers, cards, and soft words meant to soothe. But none of it reached you. Nothing could fill the empty hole in your heart. You felt as if you’d never be whole again, as if nothing could bring colour back into your world.

“She hasn’t left the bedroom in three days,” Nanami said quietly in the kitchen, his voice heavy with worry. His gaze lingered on the closed door of your bedroom. “There’s nothing I can say or do to get her out.”

Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and Utahime exchanged worried glances from where they sat in the living room, concern etched deeply on their faces. After a moment, Utahime took a breath and nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “Let us try,” she said, standing up and urging Shoko to follow her.

They approached your bedroom door, knocking softly before opening it just a crack. Inside, they found you lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly into the dim shadows. You hadn’t touched your phone, hadn’t moved much at all. Even the warmth of your blankets felt oppressive, weighing you down like a heavy fog.

“Can we come in?” Utahime asked gently, her voice a soft, steady presence.

You didn’t respond, and the silence stretched on, but they took it as permission, quietly entering and sitting down on either side of the bed. Shoko rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, while Utahime sat beside you, a silent, patient presence.

“Everyone’s really worried about you,” Shoko murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You swallowed, throat tight, their words stirring something deep within you—a tangled knot of grief and shame. “I just… I don’t know how to get past this,” you admitted, your voice hoarse.

Utahime’s expression softened as she reached over, taking your hand in hers. “No one’s expecting you to be ‘over it,’” she said gently. “But shutting us out, pushing everyone away… it’s only going to make it harder.”

The weight of her words pressed on you, but you shook your head slowly, retreating further into yourself. “I’m sorry… I just can’t.”

Seeing your hesitation, Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance. They gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, a reminder of their presence, and eventually retreated, leaving you alone in the quiet.

Later, Gojo and Geto took their turn, determined to draw you out of the darkness that had swallowed you. They knocked lightly and entered, each trying to bring a sense of comfort and normalcy with them. Gojo made a few jokes, his tone soft but hopeful, while Geto spoke quietly, sharing small memories and moments that they thought might bring you some solace.

But no matter what they tried, you remained closed off, your eyes fixed on the floor, barely responding. Nothing they said seemed to reach you, as if you were wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of sorrow.

Finally, Gojo sighed, his usual confidence softened by helplessness. “We’re here whenever you’re ready,” he said gently, his eyes searching your face. “Just… don’t shut us out forever, alright?”

You didn’t respond, but his words echoed in the silence as they quietly left, the room growing colder and quieter in their absence.

———

A few days later, Nanami sat across from you in the quiet of the living room, his formal suit neatly pressed, though his face was creased with hesitation. He had been invited to a gala event for his company, but he seemed reluctant to leave, his gaze drifting back to you, worry etched in his eyes.

“I don’t have to go,” he said softly, his hand resting on yours. “I can stay here with you.”

“No, please go.” You smile faintly, touching his hand. 

He stared at you for a while, trying to make out what you were thinking. “Fine. But text me throughout the night, so I know you’re okay.” He stood up trying to find his tie. 

You managed a faint nod, only half hearing him. Your eyes had caught on something across the room—the Tiffany baby rattle, resting on a shelf. The very one Nanami had surprised you with all those weeks ago. It was a quiet symbol of a future you’d both dreamed of, a future that felt so close, once.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the toy, a flood of emotions rushing in—grief, yes, but something else as well. A part of you ached to hold onto the sorrow, to stay hidden away from the world. But looking at the tiny rattle, you felt an unexpected warmth stir within you. The memory of that hope, that dream, wasn’t gone. It wasn’t erased.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your grief soften, just enough for you to breathe without it pressing down on you. And as you exhaled, something inside you whispered that maybe it was time to step forward, even if it felt impossible. You weren’t ready to let go completely, but you could try to live with the memory, rather than solely in the grief of it.

As you peered over at Nanami who had changed into his white shirt and was standing opposite a mirror, tying his tie. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of love and affection. He was your husband, for better or for worse. 

“I think…” you began, surprising even yourself with the words. You looked up at Nanami, who was watching you with a mix of worry and gentle encouragement. “I think I want to go with you.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small, hopeful smile spread across his face. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, a tiny, tentative smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I… I think I need to try.”

Nanami’s relief was palpable as he took your hand, squeezing it warmly. Without another word, he guided you to your room, gently setting out a gown you’d worn before—a piece that made you feel elegant, strong. You took your time, steadying yourself as you got ready, every small step a quiet victory.

By the time you emerged, Nanami’s smile had widened, his pride evident as he took in the sight of you. He offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a newfound strength, a fragile but determined spark within you.

As you left together, you felt, for the first time, a sliver of hope breaking through the clouds.

[iloveacaibowls111]

Me fr^^^

I will never apologize for the person I will become when his true form gets animated

Top images belong to aiiana_00 on Instagram, bottom images 0aicha.dl on Instagram

[iloveacaibowls111]

Wifey Material

synopsis: you were feeling bored so you decided to do something to surprise your beloved husband, kento nanami!

A/N: I was really inspired by Charlotte York from SATC while writing this lmao.

As the front door latch turned, you quickly place the empty plates down on the kitchen table. It was just a normal Wednesday night but you were feeling in a rut so you thought what better idea than to make the evening into a romantic date night. You had set everything up perfectly, jazz playing in the background, lighting dimmed so the kitchen was ambient and finally a delicious meal placed on the dining table with bottles of red wine. You were very proud of yourself, considering just a few years ago the only dish you could make was a peanut butter and jam sandwich.

“Honey, I’m home.” Nanami called out from the hallway.

“I’m just in the kitchen!” You called back, carefully smoothing your dress and tousling up your hair in the mirror’s reflection. “I’ve made us dinner tonight!” You turned to face him, giving him a smile and pointing towards the picturesque view on the dinner table. 

Nanami's eyes softened as he took in the scene, pausing for a moment as a gentle smile spread across his face. He walked over, setting his keys down with a faint clink, and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You really went all out." His gaze lingered on the carefully laid table, the soft candlelight dancing across the wine glasses, and the faint aroma of your cooking filling the air. "I feel like I'm in one of those fancy restaurants that we always go to.”

You chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. "Well, why go out when you can have the best meal right here?"

Nanami’s hands moved to yours, squeezing gently before he guided you over to the table. "Sit down," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "I think it's only fair that I get to serve you after all this effort."

Blushing, you allowed him to take your seat and watched as he poured the wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the glass. He sat across from you, raising his glass with a smile. "To you," he said, his voice warm and genuine, "and to evenings like this. Thank you for making tonight so special."

Your glasses clinked, and the smooth notes of the jazz soundtrack filled the comfortable silence between you. As you took your first bites, you found yourself glancing up every so often, catching his gaze and exchanging small, knowing smiles. Each taste of the food felt more flavourful, every sip of wine a little richer with him there.

Nanami reached across the table, taking your hand and brushing his thumb over your knuckles as he shared a memory from one of your early dates.

"You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I knew even then, on our first date, that I wanted nights like this with you. For the rest of my life.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter. Here in the warm glow of the evening you’d created, with his hand in yours wearing matching rings and the world outside fading away, everything felt perfectly in place.

Nanami’s gaze lingered on you for a moment as he set his wine glass down, an unreadable look in his eyes. He took a breath as if to say something but hesitated, a soft smile dancing on his lips as he reached across the table to hold your hand again.

“You know,” he began, his voice tender but a bit more serious than before, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this… settled.” He looked around at the cozy, candlelit scene you had created and then back at you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand thoughtfully. “I’ve always known that I wanted a life like this—a warm home, someone to come back to… but I never imagined it would feel this good.”

You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks as his words sank in, realising just how much tonight meant to him. You gave his hand a small squeeze, feeling your heart swell. “I’m glad,” you murmured, smiling as you looked down, slightly shy under his gaze. “I wanted tonight to feel special. I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

Nanami’s grip tightened, and his face softened even more, a hint of vulnerability showing in his usually composed demeanour. “It does,” he whispered, then took another deep breath, looking at you with a mixture of love and something else—something deeper. “And you know… I think about it sometimes, what it would be like if it wasn’t just the two of us. If… maybe someday… we had a family of our own.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at him, both surprised and elated, and the words seemed to sink slowly into the room around you. The idea of starting a family with Nanami was one you’d both hinted at in passing, like a soft dream floating in the background, but hearing him say it now, here, felt profound.

“Really?” you asked, a warm smile breaking across your face. You hadn’t expected this conversation tonight, but the way he was looking at you made it feel as natural as breathing.

He chuckled softly, nodding as he looked down at your hands, entwining your fingers more tightly. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. A little home filled with our own kind of happiness. I can picture us—maybe two little ones running around, their laughter filling these walls… maybe a few quiet nights like this, where we can just sit back and watch them grow.”

The image he painted was beautiful, like a warm vision of the life you hadn’t quite let yourself imagine fully. You could see it too—a home with him, the two of you sharing not just nights like this, but years together, growing and building a family.

You leaned in, resting your free hand over his. “I love that,” you whispered, barely able to contain the excitement and warmth spreading through you. “I want that too. I think we’d make a pretty amazing team.”

Nanami laughed softly, his eyes lighting up with happiness as he reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that made you melt. “Then let’s keep building this dream. Little by little, just like tonight.”

You both sat there, hands intertwined, silently absorbing this new shared dream, feeling a fresh layer of love and commitment deepen between you. The future felt bright, warm, and filled with a kind of joy you both knew would only grow with time. For now, though, this moment was all you needed. You squeezed his hand, your eyes meeting his, knowing that whatever the future held, it would be a beautiful journey together.

[iloveacaibowls111]

JJK - Masterlist :)

Last updated: 5/11/24

Toji Fushiguro

Mama's Boy

Old Habits Die Hard

Ryomen Sukuna

The Fairest of Them All

Convenient - Angst Version

Satoru Gojo

Memories of You

Adoption???

Suguru Geto

KFC Breakup

Kento Nanami

Wifey Material

A Love Unborn

[iloveacaibowls111]

There is no dentist alive that could unhinge my teeth from his waist.

[iloveacaibowls111]

Convenient (Angst Vers.)

synopsis: life as sukuna’s forgotten wife, angsty but nothing changes. 

A/N: There’s originally two different versions that I wrote. One that ended as a fluff while this one ended as an angst. This one I like more so I thought to post this one :)

Moans filled your room, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of skin meeting skin. It felt like something straight out of a sordid fantasy. But it wasn’t you beneath him, breathing hard and lost in passion. No. It was your husband and one of his concubines in the room directly across from yours. You threw a pillow over your head, trying to block out the sounds entirely. You knew he was doing this to get under your skin—retaliating because you’d made him angry, and this was his punishment.

“Ugh, shut up!” you hissed to yourself, fighting the urge to slam your fists against the chamber wall. But you knew he wouldn’t like that.

The girl’s moans grew louder, her voice rising to that high-pitched crescendo, no doubt to draw him further in. You couldn’t bear another second. Grabbing a silk robe, you wrapped it around yourself, messily braiding your hair into a plait. You slipped from your room, away from those sounds, thankful that your handmaiden had gone off to bed. Moving quickly, you slipped on your slippers and darted into the garden.

The moon cast its soft glow over the garden, illuminating the cherry blossoms nearly in full bloom, their pink petals dancing lightly in the breeze. The moment you stepped outside, your fury seemed to dissolve into the night air, replaced by a kind of quiet sadness. You settled onto a stone bench, letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. The noise from the next room had cost you any hope of rest, keeping you from the fragile peace you craved. Still, you refused to cry. Not for him. Not tonight.

He may have been the King of Curses, feared and renowned, but none of that mattered. He was your husband. Yours—not theirs. You were his only true wife, yet he paraded around with women who could never give him the loyalty or devotion you had. He always called you his own, his claim. But in truth, he was never really yours. As the first tear formed, you held it back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not anymore.

Your gaze drifted to the cherry blossoms swaying softly, as memories tugged you back to when he had first held your hand, back when you were his world, his queen, his confidante. When his touch sent thrills through you, and his voice was the balm to your every sorrow. But somewhere along the line, you became little more than a treasured relic to him: admired but neglected, a remnant of his affections.

A faint laugh escaped your lips, hollow and brittle. You looked at your hands, hands that had once ached to touch him, to pull him close when the world grew too cold. Now, they lay empty in your lap, unfamiliar even to you. The cherry blossoms above seemed to sway in pity, each petal drifting like fragments of lost hope.

“You were my everything,” you whispered into the night, your voice barely a breath. “And to you, I was… convenient.”

The words felt heavy and painful yet freeing, a truth spoken at last. Maybe they were real, maybe not, but in that moment, they felt like the only truth. You had loved a man who saw you as a possession. And even now, after everything, a part of you still ached for him, for the love that had once seemed so sure.

The chill of the night seeped into your bones, but the thought of returning inside filled you with dread. In that quiet garden, you felt both empty and whole, as if the solitude allowed you to remember who you were before him. Surrounded by cherry blossoms and moonlight, you found peace in your own presence, a place where you were allowed to feel.

A single tear slid down your cheek, and this time, you let it fall. Here, under the moonlit sky, you allowed yourself to mourn the love that had faded, the loyalty that had never been returned. He’d never see you cry, never know the weight of your sadness or the depth of what you had sacrificed. But here, alone, you could finally release the years of quiet heartbreak.

You sat beneath the stars, eyes tracing constellations as if searching for something beyond reach. You let your mind drift to a life you could barely imagine: one where you were free, loved, cherished. A soft breeze ruffled your hair, and you closed your eyes, letting the wind embrace you.

Because, after all, that was all you could do.

[iloveacaibowls111]

The Fairest of Them All

SYNOPYSIS: ust a little fluffy oneshot about you, Sukuna's wife, and the vibes that are occurring everyday you get me?

A/N: Cute little fluff. Obviously, Sukuna here is a softie and not like his sadistic self :)

A small cherry blossom flower softly landed on your arm, its delicate touch tickling your senses. You glance down, captivated by its fragile beauty. The blossom was a gentle thing, soft and serene—a stark contrast to you. Growing up, your mother often chastised you for your brash, impulsive nature, warning that no husband would want a wife who acted on whims without a second thought. So, as you matured, you did your best to find your place, to practice patience with yourself—all in hopes that your future husband wouldn’t resent your habit of speaking your mind.

Everything changed when you were promised to Ryomen Sukuna, a fierce ruler infamous for his cruelty and violence. Your parents were horrified when their advisors suggested this union, fearing for their beloved daughter’s safety. Yet, despite Sukuna’s brutal reputation, the advisors insisted that no one in the land could better protect you. Reluctantly, your parents agreed, and you were wed to the most feared man in Japan.

When you first met him, his interest was piqued by your impulsive nature—something that mirrored his own. “So, why did you burn down that entire town again?” Curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn’t resist asking about his most recent outburst.

“The leader of the town said my face was an abominable mess,” Sukuna grumbled, sitting cross-legged across from you as you embroidered a pattern onto his new kimono.

“The audacity! He deserved it,” you teased, flashing him a cheeky grin. “Honestly, though, your face is far from an abominable mess. It’s wonderful.”

“Hmm, are you teasing me?” Sukuna asked, a mock pout forming on his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh. The fierce king, feared by all, was pouting because he thought you were teasing him.

“No, not at all. I’m serious. You’re probably prettier than I am,” you replied, pausing your embroidery as you clutched your stomach from laughing so hard.

“Stop it at once, I command you,” Sukuna demanded, his voice rising to feign anger. You tried to compose yourself, but it was no use. Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around you—four of them, encircling you. “Good, you’ve stopped laughing.”

Before he could react, you started to tickle him. Though your efforts had little effect, it quickly sparked a playful tickling war between the two of you. His fingers merely hovering over you sent you into fits of giggles.

“So, you really are just a cute little softie behind your ‘tough’ exterior, aren’t you?” You bemused, laying on his chest while playing with one of his hands.

“Nah, just for you,” he responded while caressing your soft hair, one of his fingers interlacing with yours.

Sukuna’s servants and guards suddenly saw a new side of him that he had reserved for you. He would be so gentle with you as if you could break at an instance, which you probably could given how strong he was. He was playful, taking part in your silly antics and so called ‘pranks’. Finally, he was showing to everyone that he was capable of love and letting someone in his life. Although, he had concubines that were at his beck and call, he never truly let someone in as he did with you.

“You know when my mother was pregnant with me, she was starving because we were so poor. I had a twin brother in the womb but apparently I had eaten him to avoid starving to death myself.” Sukuna murmured, you two were lying outside soaking up the remaining sunshine before the winter cold would settle. The two of you were lying on your backs, head facing each other while your feet pointed in opposing directions. “That’s probably why I look the way I do now.”

You listened intently, not wanting to interrupt him as he rarely shared the details of his childhood. “I think a part of her always hated me for that so that’s probably why she left me. But then again, it’s not my fault that my brother wasn’t strong enough to eat me first.” He reasoned, shutting his eyes to think.

“Well, I think that you were just a little embryo in your mother’s stomach, that barely even counts as you.” You responded, tilting your head to face him. “I think all children deserve parents but not all parents deserve children. You didn’t deserve what happened, if she was starving so much why would she even want to have children to begin with.”

Sukuna just shrugged, his eyes opening to face yours. “Well, I promise that if we ever choose to have children, I won’t act as if they owe me. I owe them everything.” You happily stated. Sukuna couldn’t help but laugh at your decisiveness.

“Of course, my queen.” His four arms reached to grip your waist and shoulders before manhandling you to face him. He snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. The two of you just lay out in the sun, enjoying each other’s company.

Before he met you, Sukuna would demand death for anyone who defied him, but now, he merely sent them away with a harsh word. The correlation between your presence and his softer demeanor didn’t go unnoticed, though sometimes his anger still got the better of him.

“Y/N! Where are you?” Sukuna’s booming voice echoed through the palace halls. You were sitting in front of your vanity, where your handmaiden was brushing your hair.

“I’m in my room!” You called back, hoping he’d hear you.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Sukuna stormed in with a very frightened concubine named Yuki. His grip on her arm was so tight, you worried it might snap.

“I found this one demanding a village be annihilated,” he growled, his fury palpable. The statement confused you, considering how much Sukuna usually enjoyed causing chaos.

“I thought you’d be into that sort of thing?” You tilted your head, genuinely puzzled.

“Yes, but not without my permission. And then she dared to say it was your idea,” Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, questioning the truth behind Yuki’s claim. The concubine looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Uh, yes, it was me,” you quickly blurted out. “I just hated the way they, um, dressed up?”

“You? The same person who scolded me for killing a spider because it had a spider-wife and spider-children to go home to?” Sukuna could barely contain his amusement. Though still angry at Yuki, the way you were trying to protect her made him remember why he loved you so much.

“Y-yes. I’m turning a new leaf. I want to be more like you,” you said, walking up to him and gently prying his hand off Yuki’s arm. “Now, let Yuki go, and we can talk about this in private.” Sukuna stayed still for a moment before nodding. Yuki shot you a grateful look as she hurried out.

You sat on the bed, looking expectantly at Sukuna. “You can leave now, Hoshiko,” you said softly to your handmaiden. She bowed and exited, leaving you alone with Sukuna, who stood, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” he said, raising a brow.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I know you’re not. That’s why I thought you’d see through her little scheme.”

Sukuna stepped closer, the intensity of his gaze softening. “And why would you take the blame for her?”

“Because,” you started, cheeks warming, “she’s just a small thing. I didn’t want you to hurt her. Plus, I knew you wouldn’t do anything to me.”

He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh yeah? You know me that well?”

“Yeah. I do.”

A chuckle escaped him. “You know, if you were anyone else, your head would be on a spike.”

“Yes, yes. You remind me often,” you teased.

Sukuna rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “You should be lucky you have such a special place in my heart.”

Playfully, you poked his chest. “What can I say, you just can’t resist my charm!”

He took a step closer, and for a moment, the world around you faded. “Guilty,” he said with a mischievous glint, before sweeping you up into his arms, making you squeal with surprise. “I heard the flowers are blooming in the garden—a cacophony of colors. Let’s go check them out.”

“Hey! Put me down, Sukuna!” you laughed, trying to pinch his cheeks as he carried you toward the garden.

He leaned close to your ear, a grin forming. “Not a chance. You’re mine.”

As the two of you disappeared into the vibrant garden, your laughter echoed through the air. Sukuna, the fierce and feared king, had found his match—someone who could make him smile, laugh, and feel a love he’d never known before.

And as you basked in the warmth of the sun and the blooming flowers, you knew that despite his terrifying reputation, he was, and always would be, yours.

[iloveacaibowls111]

😭😭😭

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing. 

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil. 

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor. 

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted. 

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them,  this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear. 

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

  

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YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic. 

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief. 

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world? 

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must. 

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

══════════════════

IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection. 

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.  

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask. 

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost. 

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference. 

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord,  but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."

[iloveacaibowls111]

Adoption???

SYNOPYSIS: Satoru adopts Megumi and Tsumiki without telling you (uh oh).

A/N: Cute little fluff, very short. Obviously Satoru is a bit aged up because I can't really imagine two 17 year olds living in a penthouse by themselves unless they're in Gossip Girl.

“SATORU GOJO?!” Your voice screeched down the penthouse hallway. “Tell me, you did not adopt a kid?”

Satoru visibly winced, glancing over at where he stood with Tsumiki and Megumi. They were trying to sneak into the apartment after Satoru had finished settling them down. The three had been out buying flowers so that, when he told you, you *hopefully* wouldn’t get so mad.

“Um, sweetie, it’s a long story and everything happened so fast. I would’ve told you,” he said with a hopeful grin, holding out a lovely bouquet of blue hydrangeas – your favourite. To his side, Tsumiki smiled sweetly while Megumi struggled to suppress a laugh at Gojo being scolded.

“Oh my god, you did. And you adopted two.” You smacked Satoru lightly on the chest but then happily accepted the flowers, placing them on the kitchen table. Your gaze softened as you turned toward the two siblings. “So, who might you two little ones be?”

“I’m Tsumiki Fushiguro, and this is my younger brother, Megumi,” Tsumiki answered with a hopeful smile, while Megumi just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“Tsumiki? That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” You said with a wink, making Tsumiki blush slightly. You then turned to the younger boy, your eyes twinkling with warmth. “Hmmm, Megumi. I like it.” You ruffled his spiky hair which reminded you of a sea urchin, though he remained stoic.

“Can I bring my two dogs with me? If not, I don’t want to be here,” Megumi said, deadpan.

You chuckled, amused by the boy’s seriousness. “Of course! I already live with an animal, so why not two more?” She gave Satoru a teasing glare, and he tried to shuffle away, pretending not to hear the comment.

“Divine Dogs!” Megumi called out excitedly, and two shadowy forms materialised, taking the shape of large, ethereal canines.

You blinked in surprise but then smiled as the dogs approached, wagging their tails. “Well, aren’t you two handsome,” you said, kneeling to pet the creatures. They happily licked your hand, their tails wagging even harder.

“So you guys want to help me cook dinner?” You asked, standing up and brushing off her hands. “I was thinking spaghetti.”

“What’s spaghetti?” Megumi asked, looking up from where he was patting the dogs.

“You’ve never had spaghetti? Well you’re in for a treat.” You chuckled, pinching Megumi’s cheeks. “Tsumiki, do you want to help me make it?”

Tsumiki’s face lit up. “Yes! Yay!”

“And you, Megumi, Any culinary talents?” You smiled warmly.

Megumi shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I can stir,” he offered.

“Well, stirring is very important,” You replied, your voice light and playful. “And maybe you can teach me some tricks with those dogs of yours later.”

Megumi’s lips twitched into a small smile – enough to make Satoru’s and your heart swell.

Once the kids were out of sight, you turned to Satoru, your playful smile slipping into something more knowing. You placed your hands on your hips and raised a brow at him.

“Satoru,” you started, your voice light but firm, “you and I need to have a little chat.”

Satoru grinned nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, chat about what?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, stepping closer to him. “You adopted two kids without asking me first.” Your tone wasn’t angry, but there was a clear warning in your words. “You know you can’t just make decisions like this, right?”

Satoru chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. “Well, I figured you’d be cool with it! I mean, look at them—they’re adorable!”

Your expression softened into a smile, but she kept her hands on her hips. “Oh, they’re adorable, alright. But that’s not the point, mister. You still should’ve talked to me first.”

Satoru put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to stress you out with the details.”

You sighed, stepping even closer and poking his chest playfully. “I get it, Satoru. But next time?” You poked him again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You better run something like this by me. Or else.”

Satoru grinned, catching your hand gently before you could poke him again. “Or else what?”

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing teasingly. “Or else you’ll be sleeping on the couch. With the Divine Dogs.”

Satoru’s grin widened as he laughed. “Oh no, not the couch! That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” He held his hand dramatically to his chest.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You better believe it,” you teased. “Now go help me with dinner before I actually make good on that threat.”

Satoru leaned down and kissed your forehead, the warmth in his heart growing as the tension between them melted into playful banter. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

As they headed toward the kitchen, Satoru couldn’t help but smile to himself. Sure, he probably should’ve talked to you first—but with you by his side, he knew they’d be able to handle whatever came next.

[iloveacaibowls111]

Memories of You ☆

SYNOPSIS: Satoru and his two children, Tsumiki and Megumi, watching old videos of you after you passed away.

A/N: I don't go into depth about what happened to you, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. You guys adopted the two kids when they were around 3-5 years old and they are currently around 9-10 years old.

‘Oscar, you rat!’ Your voice, sharp and playful, echoed throughout the empty cinema room, words bouncing off the dark walls. ‘It’s my necklace. Stop being so annoying.’

Satoru, Tsumiki and Megumi all sat cross-legged, mesmerised by the scene unfolding in front of them. The large cinema screen played a video of you at 18, long before Tokyo and the family that you had built here. Back then, in New York, you were a familiar face. A celebrity, of sorts. Your parents were very well known - Dad owned several multi-million dollar companies while Mom was a socialite. Naturally, your siblings and your younger years were captured in a reality series, documenting your life for the whole world to see. 

‘I love my siblings, one thousand percent. No doubt about it,’ your younger self chimed in from the screen. Though the same face they knew now, your hair was bleached blonde—a style choice you’d insisted on back then, convinced it ‘complemented’ your skin tone. “But sometimes they’re the most infuriatingly stupid people on this planet.”

‘Don’t say that about your siblings.’ Your mom’s reprimanding tone piped up from behind the camera, only to be met by the rolling of your eyes. 

“Fine, sorry.” You groaned, then, after glancing at the camera, flashed a mischievous smile. “But it’s true, though.”

Satoru sat quietly, watching the screen as your familiar voice filled the room. In this fleeting moment, he felt as though everything was normal again - like he could finally breathe without his lungs threatening to collapse under the weight of grief. He felt as though he was currently navigating his life completely in the dark, lost and heartbroken. The only source of light was the fading memories of you. He could feel the familiar welling of tears forming in his eyes and in this very moment, he was grateful for the fact that he was wearing his blindfold. His gaze shifted to Tsumiki and Megumi, seated on either side of him, and his heart ached even more deeply. If that were possible.

Tsumiki sat in silence, tears streaming down her face as her eyes were fixated on the sight of you laughing on the big screen. Her hands instinctively reached for the necklace she was wearing around her neck. The one that you had left her, a delicate Tiffany heart necklace that you had gotten from your mother. Your mother gave it to you as a birthday gift but you wanted it to be more meaningful for your little girl. So you before you gave it to her, you sat down and somewhat tried to construct a heartfelt emotional letter to her. “No matter what,” you had written, “I will always be with you, my sweet girl. I am your mother, and I’ll always love you.”

At that moment, you had wished you’d paid more attention in those English Lit classes.

Megumi was also silently sitting on the other side of Satoru, his small body pressed against your husband’s wide chest, intently watching the screen. Megumi was roughly rubbing his face every so often, in an attempt to hide the tears that were threatening to pour down. He wouldn’t cry, he refused to cry. He promised you that he’d stay strong for his sister and dad. Expressing emotions had never been his strength, but with you, it had been different. Probably because you are his mother. And moms just have that effect.

Suddenly, Satoru’s large arms wrapped around both children, pulling them close. They looked up, startled to see their usually playful, ever-humorous father staring ahead, a small tear trickled from behind his blindfold.

‘Dad, are you crying?’ Megumi quietly spoke, as if afraid to say the words too loud. 

‘No. Just allergies.’ Satoru looked down and gave Megumi a shaky grin. ‘I’m the strongest, I don’t cry.’ 

‘It’s okay, Mommy would forgive you if you cried. Just this once’ Megumi responded, his voice barely heard over you talking in the background. His tiny hand reached out, grasping Satoru’s. Megumi’s small fingers were enveloped by his father’s larger, trembling ones.

‘Where do you see yourself in 10 years, Y/N?’ The interviewer’s voice drawing the attention of the siblings. 

Your younger self paused, contemplating the question. “Honestly? I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice sweet yet certain, like honey. “But there’s one thing I’m sure of.”

‘And what’s that?’ 

“I’ll be with my family. My husband. My children. No matter what I’m doing, no matter where I am, I’ll have my family—one that I’ll love with all my heart. Even if I’m not around in ten years, I hope they know that I love them. I’ll always love them.”

The room fell into a hushed silence as the screen flickered, your bright eyes locking with the camera for just a moment, as if you were looking directly at them—at your family. And before the screen faded to black, you gave a final, playful wink.