#ryomen sukuna x oc

[mononijikayu]

as the world caves in — ryomen sukuna.

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: as the world caves in by sarah cothran

note: beyond what i usually write, but i ended up doing it because i dont think it would be easy to fit in the next chapter. the next chapter is already decided. so i dont think i have the heart to add another chapter. the series is already long as it is. but still, i hope you enjoy it. i hope you enjoy the ride. buckle up, the chapters change from this on to absolutely brutally painful. anyway, i love you!!!

YOU HATED BEING HERE. In the tranquil expanse of neutral territory, where the boundaries blurred between the domains of the Ryomen and Fujiwara clans, an uneasy gathering took place. Here, beneath the boughs of ancient trees and amidst the whispers of nature, the destinies of two families intertwined. Families bound by bad, spoilt blood —blood that unites in misery, meet to unite again. 

Your bright colored kimono felt tighter as the air disappeared from your lungs. The weight of the fabric, usually a symbol of your clan's pride and dignity, now seemed like a constricting shroud, amplifying the suffocating tension that surrounded you. Each breath became a conscious effort, a reminder of the expectations and pressures bearing down on you from all sides.

You stood beside your father, Ryomen Isamu, his presence as imposing as the ancient trees around you. The towering oaks and cedars, with their gnarled trunks and sprawling branches, seemed to echo his steadfastness and strength.

Isamu's broad shoulders and firm stance radiated a quiet power, a testament to his unwavering commitment to honor and duty. His face, lined with the wisdom of age and experience, remained calm, though you could sense the undercurrent of resolve that lay beneath his composed exterior.

In stark contrast stood Fujiwara Ankoku, your grandfather. His cold eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierced through the air with a severity that made the spring day feel like the dead of winter. His proud demeanor, honed by years of wielding power and influence, seemed to draw the very warmth from the surroundings, creating a palpable chill.

The lines on his face were etched deeply, not just by time but by the burdens of maintaining his family's supremacy. His robes, richly embroidered with symbols of the Fujiwara clan's authority, only amplified his intimidating presence.

The neutral ground, chosen meticulously to symbolize a chance at reconciliation, felt anything but peaceful. The tension between Isamu and Ankoku crackled like a storm ready to unleash its fury.

The air, thick with unspoken words and historical grievances, seemed almost tangible. Every rustle of leaves and every distant bird call felt amplified in the heavy silence that followed each exchange.

Your father spoke with measured calm, his voice steady and deliberate. "We seek an alliance built on mutual respect and honor, Ankoku-dono. This marriage is a chance to mend our….past wounds. We are kin, after all. We must move forward united."

Ankoku’s response was an apprehensive snicker. "Respect and honor, you say? Words often spoken too easily, Isamu-dono. It is a matter of them being upheld. What guarantees can you provide that your lineage is worthy of our name?"

Each word from your grandfather felt like a blade, slicing through the fragile hope for peace. His dismissive tone stoked the simmering anger within you. Your clansmen felt the same, you knew that too well. There was pride in all of you—the Ryomen were older, bolder, more ancient than the Fujiwara. 

Even so, to say that you were unworthy of your cousin Koku was entirely foolish. The clan had wondered in hushed whispers if Koku was even worthy of you. The Fujiwara had only been in such power for such a short time, one could consider it a blink.

You felt the burning pride for your clan call to you.You and your brother were born to such a glorious name. You were both worthy. You have no need to prove it. Your blood was noble. It will always be. 

"The same one which you had wrought upon me by marrying me to your daughter," your father retorted, his voice firm but edged with a restrained anger. 

Hiramu’s lips trembled with laughter, but he bit his lip.Your mother’s glare bore against your father’s head and then your uncle’s. The tension in his words was palpable, a clear challenge to Ankoku's authority. 

“Do you question me so, Ankoku–dono, that you forget thus?”

Ankoku's eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his expression turned icy. "My daughter brought honor and strength to your clan, Isamu-dono. It is you who must prove that your bloodline is worthy of continuing this legacy."

Isamu's jaw tightened, his composure fraying at the edges. "We have upheld our end of the alliance with dignity and strength. You see my daughter, as you have seen my son. They had grown to be the pride of our clan.  It is not our lineage that is in question here, but the sincerity of your intentions, Ankoku-dono."

A cold smile curled at the corners of Ankoku's lips. "Intentions, Isamu-dono? My intentions are transparent. I seek to ensure the superiority of the Fujiwara name. That is my duty. If that means questioning the worth of those who wish to align with us, so be it."

You could feel the air grow heavier with each passing moment, the space between your father and grandfather crackling with unresolved tension. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the confrontation.

"An alliance built on mutual respect cannot thrive under a cloud of suspicion and disdain, Ankoku–dono." your father pressed on, his voice steady but with a hint of frustration. Sukuna catches your uncle’s eye for a moment. 

"Things as of late, it must be known as regretful. But we must move beyond these grievances if we are to secure a future of peace and prosperity for both our families. Have we not proven this with my own marriage?”

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. "Peace and prosperity are earned, Isamu-dono, not freely given. Prove to me that my granddaughter can uphold the honor of the Fujiwara name, and perhaps then we can speak on the completion of this alliance.”

A sharp intake of breath from Sukuna caught your attention. His eyes, usually filled with warmth when meeting yours, were now cold and hard as he glared at Ankoku and then towards your cousin Koku.

The anger simmering within him mirrored your own, a shared defiance against the oppressive authority of your grandfather. Sukuna’s usually calm demeanor was replaced by a visible tension, his jaw clenched and his fists tightened at his sides.

Koku, seated beside you, seemed entirely unfazed by the turmoil around him. He sat with an air of smug confidence, his back straight and his chin lifted slightly, exuding an aura of superiority that only served to stoke the fires of resentment burning within you and Sukuna. The pride in Koku's eyes was unwavering, a clear indication that he felt secure in his position and indifferent to the suffering or discord that his family's actions caused.

As Sukuna's gaze bore into him, Koku met it with a condescending smirk, a look that spoke volumes about his sense of untouchable entitlement. He was the first born son, the symbol of Fujiwara pride, and he seemed to revel in the conflict, basking in the glow of his perceived invulnerability. And he was seeping in — destroying the peace, by forcing Fujiwara peace through a putrid marriage that should never be.

The tension was palpable, an invisible thread stretching taut between Sukuna and Koku, threatening to snap at any moment. The space between them crackled with unspoken animosities, the air thick with the weight of ancestral grudges and personal vendettas. You felt caught in the middle, the pressure of the moment making your kimono feel even tighter, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

"My daughter has proven his worth time and again, Ankoku–dono." Isamu countered, his voice rising. "It is not my daughter’s honor that is in question here, but your unwillingness to see beyond your prejudices.”

Ankoku's cold smile vanished, replaced by a stern, unyielding expression. "Choose your words carefully, Isamu-dono. This marriage is not just a union of individuals but a merging of legacies, of clans. Any misstep could bring dishonor upon us all."

Your father took a deep breath, steadying himself before responding. "We will honor this union, Ankoku-dono, but it must be based on mutual respect. If we continue down this path of mistrust and animosity, we doom ourselves to repeat the mistakes of the past."

The silence that followed was heavy, each second stretching into an eternity. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you watched the two patriarchs lock eyes, their wills clashing like titans in a battle for the future.

Ankoku finally broke the silence, his voice cold and measured. "Very well, Isamu-dono. We will proceed with this marriage. We will keep the peace. But know this: I will be watching closely. Any sign of dishonor or weakness, and the consequences will be severe."

As Ankoku turned away, the tension in the air began to dissipate, leaving behind a sense of uneasy resolution. Your father exhaled slowly, the strain of the confrontation evident in his eyes. You exchanged a long, meaningful glance with Sukuna, your silent vows of defiance and determination reaffirmed.

Ankoku, sensing the tension still lingering, paused and turned back towards Isamu, his cold eyes narrowing. "Do not mistake this agreement for weakness, Isamu-dono. The Fujiwara name demands nothing less than absolute loyalty and unwavering strength."

Isamu met Ankoku's gaze, his voice steady but edged with a simmering intensity. "And do not mistake our willingness to unite as submission, Ankoku-dono. We are equals in this alliance, and respect must be mutual if we are to succeed."

Ankoku's lip curled in a slight sneer. "Respect is earned, Isamu-dono. Your family has much to prove."

Isamu's jaw tightened, but he remained composed. "And we will, through actions and honor, not through empty words and hollow threats."

A tense silence followed, each word hanging heavily in the air. Ankoku's gaze flicked to you and Sukuna, his eyes narrowing with suspicion and challenge. "See that you do. The future of both our clans depends on it."

Isamu nodded, his expression unyielding. "Indeed it does. Let us hope that our children can bridge the gaps that we could not."

Ankoku turned to leave once more, but this time Isamu’s own voice stopped him. "Ankoku-dono, understand this: the Ryomen clan will not tolerate disrespect. We come to this union with duty in our hearts, but we will not be subjugated."

Ankoku's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "Very well, Isamu-dono. Let us see if your actions can match your words."

As Ankoku finally walked away, the atmosphere remained charged with the remnants of their confrontation. Your cousin Koku stood from his position, his movements deliberate and measured. His smug expression never wavered, and he approached you with a condescending air that made your skin crawl.

"Well, little cousin." Koku began, his voice dripping with feigned politeness, "It seems we are to be bound by fate and duty. I hope you are prepared to uphold your part. To honor our family, despite your… humble origins."

You bristled at his words, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with defiance. "I am ready to do what is necessary for our families' future, Koku–dono. I trust you will do the same."

“Oh so formal with me. Are we not family?” Koku's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "Of course, I will. After all, it is my duty to guide and protect you, to ensure that you do not falter in your responsibilities."

His patronizing tone grated on your nerves, but you refused to let him see your frustration. "I must do well by my family. I shan’t be degrading. I am sure this must reflect that I am perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities, Koku–dono. You need not concern yourself with such acts.”

Koku chuckled, a low, mocking sound that only served to heighten your irritation. "Ah, such spirit. It will be interesting to see how long it lasts. Remember, little Hiromi, this union is as much a test for you as it is for me. Do try not to disappoint."

Before you could respond, Sukuna stepped forward, his presence a solid wall of support beside you. His voice was cold and measured as he addressed Koku. "Hiromi-sama does not need your condescension, Koku-dono. Hiromi-sama is your equal, an heir of her lord. You must respect my lady."

Koku's eyes widened slightly, the surprise quickly masked by a sneer. "Respect, Sukuna? Respect is earned. Your Hiromi-sama may have the title, but she has yet to prove she deserves the honor that comes with it."

Sukuna's expression remained steely. "Hiromi-sama's worth is not for you to judge. My lady has shown strength and grace under immense pressure. That, in itself, commands respect."

Koku stepped closer, his gaze flicking between you and Sukuna, his voice dropping to a low, mocking tone. "It seems you have quite the protector, little cousin. But remember, loyalty can be a fleeting thing, especially when tested by the harsh realities of our world. One of course, your pet will never understand.”

You could feel Sukuna's anger simmering beside you, his body tense with barely restrained fury. You placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for calm, and stepped forward to face Koku directly. You shook your head at him and mouthed an order, telling him to move away. Sukuna glared at you, as though he wishes to resist. Your eyes glared back, hardening at his indulgence. His face contorts and bows swiftly, before he walks off.

"My loyalty to my family and to this alliance is unwavering." you said, your voice steady and clear. "And I expect the same from you, Koku-dono. Do not let your arrogance blind you to the importance of unity. That is your hubris.”

Koku's sneer faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with a condescending smile. "Very well, little cousin. Let us play this game. Let us hope that your confidence is not misplaced."

He turned away, the tension in his posture revealing more than his words ever could. As he walked off, you exhaled slowly, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on your shoulders.

At that moment, Your father Isamu had slowly come to approach you. You bowed before him, but he raised his hand, releasing you from that obligation to formality. He looks to you, before turning to order the servants away, to give you some privacy. In that moment of lonesomeness, the lord’s face withers to reveal a father’s.

Ryomen Isamu expressed a mix of pride and worry as he approached you. His gaze held a depth of concern that spoke volumes, revealing the inner turmoil he grappled with. "Daughter."

"Father." You smiled at him, but you knew, as he did, that it was never full. There was a weight to his words, a heaviness that lingered in the air between you. "I am glad to serve you and your will, father."

Isamu's expression softened, but the worry remained etched in the lines of his face. "Hiromi, you do not have to do this. I do not want you to sacrifice anything for the sake of peace."

You opened your mouth to argue, to reassure him of your commitment to the alliance, but before you could speak, Isamu's next words stopped you in your tracks.

"I know about you and Sukuna," he reveals quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And if being with him is what makes you happy, then I will allow it. I would do anything for you to be happy, my dear. So that you may not suffer as much as me.”

Shock washed over you, mingled with a pang of guilt. You had thought your feelings for Sukuna were a secret, carefully concealed from prying eyes, but now you realized that your father had known all along. The realization was both comforting and heartbreaking, knowing that he had seen the turmoil within you and had chosen to support you nonetheless.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head, your heart breaking at the thought of disappointing him. "Father, I... I cannot…" you whispered, the words catching in your throat. "As much as it pains me, I must do my duty to you, to our family, our clan. For the sake of peace. You know this.”

“Daughter—”

You feel tears prickle your eyes. “Father, please.”

Isamu's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I understand, my dear. Your sense of duty has always been your strength, and I am proud of the woman you have become."

His words wash over you like a balm, soothing the ache in your heart even as they deepen the resolve within you. You hold onto his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his love and understanding. It's a rare moment of vulnerability between you, a reminder of the unbreakable bond that ties you together as father and daughter.

The weight of his acceptance and support is both a comfort and a burden, knowing that he sees the sacrifices you make for the sake of peace, for the sake of your family's legacy. But in this moment, you also feel a flicker of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounds you.

"Thank you, father," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Isamu pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he meets your gaze with unwavering love. "You are my daughter, Hiromi. And nothing will ever change that. No matter what challenges lie ahead, remember that I will always be here for you."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you try to hold back tears. "I know, father. And I will always strive to make you proud."

He enveloped you in a warm embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the weight of the world. In that moment, you felt the depth of his love and sacrifice, and you vowed to do everything in your power to honor his trust and uphold the legacy of your family.

As you pulled away from the embrace, wiping away your tears, you met Isamu's gaze with a renewed sense of determination. "I will make you proud, father. I promise."

Isamu smiled, a bittersweet expression tinged with pride and love. "I know you will, my dear. And remember, no matter what challenges lie ahead, I will always be here for you."

With those words lingering in the air like a comforting embrace, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Whatever trials awaited you on the path ahead, you knew that with your father's unwavering support and your own sense of duty guiding you, you would face them with courage and resilience.

TIME PASSED TOO QUICKLY FOR YOU TO KEEP UP. The past few weeks had been a blur of unspoken words and lingering heartache. But you could not say it out loud. You couldn’t cry out or sob about it. Not anymore. Your personal life could not get in the way, you knew that. But you couldn’t help it.

Not in the lonely nights when you long to brush your fingers against fuschia hair. Not when you long for the warmth that brings you the sun on cold nights. Not when you long for the rare smiles that truly only belong to you. 

These past weeks, Sukuna and you had not exchanged a single word. When you saw him, you tried to look away. When he looks at you, he lowers his gaze. Between the two of you, the silence between you grows heavier with each passing day. 

He has maintained that he is loyal to you, that he is your right hand man. That he only belongs to you. Yet, he cannot call you with all the loving names he has made for you. He cannot hold you, he cannot love you as you wanted him to. And it breaks your heart over and over.

You had tried to focus on your duties, to bury your sorrow in the preparations for your upcoming wedding to Koku, a union that you loathed. You tried to sleep it off, to bury out the sound of whispers.  But nothing had settled you. Not duty, not stifling your sorrow, not resting. The weight of duty pressed down on you, stifling your spirit and filling you with a sense of despair.

Uncle Hiramu had tried to speak to you, so did father. It was easily noticeable that you were unhappy about your day to day. They worried, you knew that much. But in each conversation that comes between you, you consistently said that you were fine.

You parrotted words that expressed the same thing — you must do your duty. A Ryomen must do their duty.  But you knew, they did not buy it one bit. Yet they kept their tongue tied and mouth closed.

In a desperate bid to escape the suffocating atmosphere, you saddled your horse and rode out into the countryside, the wind whipping through your loose dark hair as you sought solace in the open expanse. The rhythmic pounding of your horse's hooves against the ground provided a temporary reprieve from your thoughts, but no matter how far you rode,  no matter how fast, no matter how the pressure of your horse’s weight dove against you, you couldn't outrun the pain. 

Eventually, you slowed your pace, coming to a halt near a secluded grove of trees. Your kimono had all but become wrinkled, your hair tattered. You thank your horse in a small mumble, your breath echoing exhaustion. You dismounted and led your horse to a nearby stream, letting it drink as you sat on a large rock, your heart heavy with the burden of your unspoken sorrow.

Hours passed, the world around you a blur. Soon enough, your mind began to drift. Laying your head against the tree, closing your eyes from the image of the secluded grove. The stillness of the place wrapped around you, offering a brief respite from your pain.  The voices around you faded into the background, replaced by a distant hum as you retreated into the sanctuary of your memories.

You saw Sukuna’s face, his eyes filled with warmth and mischief as he teased you about a particularly clumsy moment during one of your training sessions. You remembered the way he laughed, a sound that felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds, lighting up even your darkest days. There were stolen moments in the garden, where he’d lean in close, his voice a soft murmur in your ear as he shared his dreams and hopes with you.

A particular memory surfaced, one of the two of you riding through the countryside, the wind in your hair and the world spreading out before you like an endless tapestry of possibilities. You recalled how he’d reached out to steady you as your horse stumbled, the warmth of his hand a comforting anchor. In those moments, with Sukuna by your side, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

But now, those days felt like a distant dream, a cruel illusion that had slipped through your fingers. The reality of your impending marriage to Koku, a man you neither loved nor respected, loomed over you like a storm cloud, darkening every corner of your heart.

The memory of Sukuna’s smile, his touch, his laughter, was too much to bear. Desperate to escape the suffocating weight of your duties and the impending wedding, you decided to steal a few moments of freedom. You sighed, not knowing or caring what the hour was. What propriety was as you lay against the grass. You could only want, you could only dream. You could only yearn. You wanted to pretend that your world isn’t falling apart. 

Moments later, the sound of approaching hooves reached your ears. You blinked, slowly returning into reality. With a heavy sigh, you sat up. You turned to see Mikoto Masaomi, your loyal guard, riding toward you. His expression was one of concern as he dismounted and approached you.

You felt like he had aged in just a small time, just looking for you. But then again, you had disappeared for so long. He got off his horse, and settled the animal beside your own. He walked towards you and bowed.

"Hiromi–sama." Masaomi said softly, his voice filled with worry. "We've been looking for you. Are you all right?"

“I’m alright.” You retorted, tight lipped. “I was just….”

Masaomi sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of his concern. “Hiromi-sama, you do not have to lie. It is alright… to be honest with me. It is just me. Your loyal friend.”

You looked at Masaomi for a moment, searching his eyes for any sign of judgment or doubt, but found only sincerity and a deep, abiding loyalty. His presence, a constant in your life, offered a rare moment of solace amid the turmoil. For a moment, your brother’s face tethered in your mind as you looked at Masaomi. 

“Masaomi, I just....” you began, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “I… I feel so lost. Everything is falling apart. Sukuna is gone, and I am being forced into a future I never wanted. It feels like I am being crushed under the weight of everyone's expectations, and I don’t know how much longer I can bear it.”

Masaomi nodded, his expression understanding and patient. “I know, Hiromi-sama. I see the strain this is putting on you, and it pains me to see you suffer. You have always been so strong, but even the strongest hearts can break under such pressure.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and the tears you had been holding back spilled over. You turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability, but Masaomi gently took your hand, his touch grounding you in the present.

“It is alright to feel this way,” he continued softly. “You are not weak for wanting something different, for longing for happiness. You are human, and your feelings are valid.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the dam within you finally begin to break. “I miss him so much, Masaomi. Sukuna… he was my anchor, my hope…..my heart. And now, without him, I feel adrift, lost in a sea of expectations and duties that I never wanted.”

Masaomi’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a reassuring pressure that reminded you of his unwavering support. “Hiromi-sama, your happiness is important. You deserve to find joy and peace, not to be shackled by obligations that only bring you pain.”

A fresh wave of tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, the words spilling from your lips in a torrent of despair. “But how can I? I am bound by duty to my family, to this alliance. My brother’s duty is mine. I cannot abandon them. If I refuse, it could mean disaster for everyone I love. How can I be so selfish as to choose my own happiness over the well-being of my clan?”

Masaomi’s voice was gentle but firm as he responded. “Choosing your own happiness is not selfish, Hiromi-sama. It is necessary. A leader who is broken and unhappy cannot effectively lead or bring peace. Your well-being is the prosperity of your clan, of all your vassals. Of me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “But what can I do, Masaomi? How can I find a path that honors both my duty and my heart?”

Masaomi’s gaze was steady, his expression filled with determination. “We will find a way, Hiromi-sama. Whatever it takes, we will forge a path that allows you to fulfill your duties without sacrificing your soul. And if that means defying tradition or challenging those who stand in our way, then so be it. As I was with your brother, Akimu–dono, I am with you. Always.”

His words lit a spark of resolve within you, a flicker of hope that had been nearly extinguished. You squeezed his hand, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “Thank you, Masaomi. You have never abandoned me. I am grateful to you. Truly.”

Masaomi smiled, a rare expression that softened his usually stern features. “You will never have to find out, Hiromi-sama. The Mikoto will always stand with you. If we must go against the Fujiwara, then we will. Until death, Hiromi-sama. We will join you.”

The sincerity in his voice, the unwavering loyalty, filled you with a newfound determination. But there was still the lingering pain of separation from Sukuna, the unresolved feelings that gnawed at your heart. Masaomi seemed to sense this, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he studied your face.

“You need to talk to Sukuna when he returns,” Masaomi said gently but firmly. “You need to tell him how you feel, Hiromi-sama. Keeping these feelings locked away will only cause more pain. He deserves to know the truth, and you deserve the chance to find peace, whether it be with him or through closure.”

The idea of facing Sukuna after all this time, of baring your soul to him, was both terrifying and exhilarating. Your heart ached at the thought, but deep down, you knew Masaomi was right. Avoiding the truth had only prolonged your suffering.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if… what if I’ve lost him forever?”

Masaomi shook his head, his expression resolute. “You will never know unless you speak to him. And even if his feelings have changed, at least you will have clarity. You cannot live in this state of suffering, Hiromi-sama. It is not fair to you, and it is not fair to him.”

You took a deep breath, the enormity of the decision settling over you. “When he returns… I will talk to him. I will tell him everything.”

Masaomi’s smile broadened, a rare show of genuine happiness. “That is all I ask, Hiromi-sama. Be true to yourself and to your heart. No matter the outcome, you will have the support of the Mikoto and of those who love you.”

As the last light of the setting sun bathed the grove in a golden glow, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The path ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you had a clear direction. You would confront your fears, face the truth, and fight for your own happiness, whatever that might look like.

You and Masaomi mounted your horses and began the ride back to the estate, the cool evening air washing over you. As you rode, you allowed yourself to hope. To imagine a future where you could find a way to honor both your duty and your heart, where you could find peace and perhaps, even happiness.

YOU TOOK MASAOMI’S ADVICE. The days stretched into weeks since you last saw Sukuna, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing moment. The engagement to Koku felt like a noose tightening around your neck, suffocating the very essence of who you were. You missed Sukuna terribly, his absence a constant, aching void. Finally, you could bear it no longer and summoned him to your chambers.

The night air was cool as you waited in your dimly lit room, the flickering candle casting shadows on the walls. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. When Sukuna finally arrived, he entered quietly, his presence filling the space with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Hiromi-sama,” he said formally, bowing slightly as he stood before you. “You called for me. Why am I here?”

The formality in his tone cut through you like a knife, a stark reminder of the chasm that had grown between you. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “We need to talk, Sukuna. There are things we need to say… things we need to understand.”

He nodded curtly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Very well. Speak.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I… I’ve missed you, Sukuna.” you began, your voice trembling. “I’ve missed us. This engagement…duty as it may be – it's tearing me apart. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel anything for you.”

A flicker of emotion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it. “You chose your duty, Hiromi-sama. You chose Koku.”

“I had no choice!” you cried, your voice breaking. “You know that…. My family, the clan… they all depend on this alliance. Peace depends on this. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I have to do.”

“The Fujiwara care little for honor and you know this.” He hisses back at you. He shakes his head. “Do you honestly believe that they will not do some trickery, some game upon us?”

Your eyes narrow. “Sukuna, they are my kin. They shall honor–”

“Blood means little to the greedy.” 

“You know I cannot….” You whisper, lowering your gaze. You knew he was right. You knew that he was honest about it. When has Fujiwara been honorable? “You are not the only one suffering this, Sukuna.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. “And what about me? What about what we have? What we had together, our love? Does that mean nothing to you? Do I mean little to you?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “Of course it means something! It means the world to me. You mean everything to me…..But I’m trapped, Sukuna…..I…”

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the same way? You’re not the only one suffering here, Hiromi.”

The raw emotion in his voice broke something inside you. It burns to hear only your name from his lips. Not his endearment. Not his token of love. The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you turned away, trying to hide your vulnerability. 

“I hate this.” you whispered. “I hate all of it…..I don’t want to,....I don’t want us to fight. I don’t want to do away with this. From the person I love.”

Sukuna’s expression softened suddenly. It hurts him to see you in tears. To see you in pain. He sighed. He loses to you, he always does.  

He reached out, gently turning you to face him. “Night flower… look at me.”

You met his gaze, your heart breaking at the sight of his own anguish. “I don’t know what to do, Sukuna.” you confessed, your voice trembling. “I feel like I’m losing myself. I want to follow my heart but I just….”

He pulled you into his arms, his hold possessive and desperate. “You’re not alone in this, night flower. I told you, I will not abandon you.” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll find a way against the Fujiwara. Trust me.”

You felt the heat of his body against yours, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, intimate space. He tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours.

“Night flower,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You belong with me. You know that, don’t you?”

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I know.” you whispered back. “I’ve always known.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing, desperate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of frustration, and of a love that refused to be denied. Your initial resistance melted away as you clung to him, pouring all your pent-up emotion into that single, searing moment.

His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld your bodies into one. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel his desperation, his need for you, mirrored in your own.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, he rested his forehead against yours. “I can’t let you go.” he whispers to you tenderly, shutting his eyes.. “No matter what it takes, night flower.  I’ll do it. Just….just stay with me.”

You nodded, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m sorry, my love.” you agreed, your voice a whisper. “I really am.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I—”

He says, his eyes opening once more. “I’ll kiss you.”

You looked at him, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do it.”

“Beg for it.”

In the heat of the moment, your words dissolved into a needy moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the overwhelming desire that pulsed between you. "Don't tease me." you pleaded, your voice husky with need, unable to deny the magnetic pull of his touch. “Please, my love.”

“Hm… what does this little flower want?”

“You.” You moaned, weak against his warmth. “Only you, my love.”

Sukuna’s response was immediate and primal. He growled deep in his throat, the sound reverberating through you and igniting a fierce, uncontrollable hunger. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you flush against his hard body. The intensity of his need matched your own, a raw, animalistic force that threatened to consume you both.

With a low, guttural sound, Sukuna's lips crashed down on yours, not gentle or tender, but demanding and feral. His kiss was a storm, fierce and unrelenting, his teeth grazing your lower lip as if to mark you as his. You gasped into his mouth, the pain only heightening your desire, and he took the opportunity to delve deeper, his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him. His hands roamed your body with a possessive urgency, his touch setting your skin aflame. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and you arched into him, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.

Sukuna's grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your flesh as he growled against your mouth. "You're mine, night flower." he snarled, his voice rough with possession and desire. "All mine."

The ferocity in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned, your body reacting instinctively to his dominance. You clawed at his clothed back, needing to feel him closer, to be consumed by the fire between you. Sukuna responded in kind, his mouth leaving a trail of fiery kisses down your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin, marking you as his own.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the world narrowing to just the two of you, lost in a whirlwind of passion and need. Every touch, every kiss, was a desperate claim, a refusal to let go. The line between pleasure and pain blurred as Sukuna's teeth grazed your collarbone, your back arching in response, pressing your body harder against his.

He pushed you back against the wall with a force that left you breathless, his body pressing firmly against yours. The hard, unyielding surface behind you contrasted starkly with the searing heat of his touch, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. Your back arched instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction he offered, as your senses were overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

His hands roamed possessively over your body, igniting flames of desire wherever they touched. The sensation of his fingers tracing the contours of your skin sent shivers down your spine, awakening a hunger you hadn't realized was lying dormant within you. With each caress, each brush of his lips against your skin, you felt yourself surrendering to the primal need that pulsed between you.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. Sukuna's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path of bites and kisses in their wake. Each touch was like fire against your skin, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body and making your head spin with dizzying delight.

With a rough, almost desperate motion, he tore at your clothes, his hands exploring your skin with a fervent need that sent shivers down your spine. Fabric tore away under his touch, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his hungry gaze. The air crackled with anticipation as he hungrily drank in the sight of your bare skin, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that made your heart race even faster.

You tear at his clothes eagerly, happily — not caring about the cost, the damage. Such fine clothes do not need to exist. You wanted him. You wanted your lover. You did not care for much else. You wanted it off. You wanted to feel him. Skin to skin, the advent of bare worlds merging together in the flesh. 

"I've waited long enough," he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed his body closer to yours, his lips tantalizingly close to yours. The heat of his words sent a surge of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you both. “I can’t do it anymore.”

The raw hunger in his voice stirred something primal within you, awakening a need that mirrored his own. You found yourself responding to him with an urgency you couldn't deny, your body arching into his touch as you surrendered to the overwhelming passion that pulsed between you.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your exposed skin with a reverence that made your breath catch in your throat. Fingers traced delicate patterns along your curves, sending electric currents dancing across your flesh and setting your nerve endings ablaze with sensation.

"I won't let anyone else have you," he vowed, his words a fierce declaration of possession as he claimed you as his own. There was a primal possessiveness in his touch, a certainty that you belonged to him and him alone, that sent a thrill of excitement racing through you. “No one, not any man. No one.”

In that moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the wild, untamed passion that burned between you. You surrendered yourself completely to him, giving in to the irresistible pull of desire that drew you together like moths to a flame.

As his lips crashed down on yours once more, sealing the union, that vow with a searing kiss. You knew that there was no turning back. You were his, body and soul, bound together in a love that defied reason and logic, a love that would endure for eternity.

As Sukuna's lips claimed yours in a fervent kiss, his hands continued their exploration of your exposed skin, tracing every curve and contour with an expert touch that left you trembling with anticipation. With each caress, he seemed to stoke the flames of desire within you, igniting a burning hunger that threatened to consume you entirely.

His touch was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body and leaving you yearning for more. Fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing down to your collarbone before wandering lower, teasing the edges of your desire.

With a skillful motion, Sukuna's hands roamed lower still, tracing the outline of your hips before slipping beneath the fabric of your remaining clothing. His touch was bold and confident, fingers dancing lightly over the heated flesh of your thighs as he moved ever closer to the source of your need.

You gasped as his fingertips brushed against your most intimate parts, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each touch was like fire against your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Sukuna's touch was relentless, brutish. You feel like you would burn at each motion. His fingers expertly coaxing forth the symphony of pleasure that lay dormant within you. With each stroke, each caress, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, his lips claiming yours in a heated kiss that mirrored the fervor of your desire.

As the intensity of his touch reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release. Moan after moan, your entire being was consumed by the flames of passion that raged between you. With a final, exquisite touch, Sukuna pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of pleasure as you surrender yourself completely to him.

Your reaction was one of pure ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that swept through every fiber of your being. As Sukuna's skilled hands and lips worked their magic, you felt yourself unraveling, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely.

Every touch, every caress sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge of release.

When Sukuna finally pushed you over that edge, sending you spiraling into the depths of ecstasy, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You felt like you were seeing the stars for the first time.

The way he made you feel, the way his fingers played through your confines made you quiver, shake over and over. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, each one more intense than the last, until you were lost in a haze of pure bliss.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, Sukuna's voice cut through the haze of pleasure, his tone husky with desire. "You're mine," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He bites against your neck. “Mine, mine. Forever mine.”

You let out a soft moan of contentment, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. His possessiveness could only ever make you even more pleasured.

"’kuna," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt broken against him, so deliciously broken. And he loved it. “I’m…gonna…gonna…ah!”

The air crackled with raw intensity as Sukuna's gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark with desire. "Say it," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “Say it, night flower.”

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of passion and submission. “I’m….oh…I’m yours! Yours!”

Sukuna's grip tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost painful urgency. "Louder, little one." he commanded, his voice tinged with a hint of dominance. “I don’t care if they hear us. Louder.”

"I'm yours!" you exclaimed, your voice rising with each word as you surrender yourself completely to him.

A fierce hunger burned in Sukuna's eyes as he claimed you once more, his touch rough and possessive as he took you to heights of pleasure you had never known before. Every movement was charged with an intensity that left you gasping for breath, his hands exploring every inch of your body with a relentless urgency that drove you to the brink of madness.

As the crescendo of passion reached its peak, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. And then, with a cry that echoed through the room, you came undone in his arms, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling and spent in the aftermath of your shared release.

In that moment, there was no past, no future, only the present - a fleeting instant of pure, unadulterated bliss that bound you together in a timeless embrace.

And as you basked in the afterglow of your shared passion, you knew that this was where you belonged - in the arms of the one who had awakened the deepest desires within you.

Sukuna's lips curled into a smug smirk as he watched you, his eyes alight with satisfaction at having brought you to such heights of pleasure. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, a silent testament to the intensity of the moment.

"Was that everything you hoped for?" he asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

You could only nod in response, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. Words failed you in that moment, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being utterly and completely consumed by him.

Sukuna's smirk widened as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch gentle now, a stark contrast to the rough intensity of moments before.

"You belong to me, night flower." he murmured against your skin, his words a promise and a vow all rolled into one. “You are mine to love, to have, to live, to breathe. To bow to. To yearn for. You are only mine.”

“Make it so.” You huff tenderly at your lover. “I am truly yours.”

As Sukuna's hands skillfully undid the fastenings of his pants, releasing his arousal, a surge of anticipation coursed through your veins like wildfire. The sight of him, his eyes ablaze with unbridled desire, set your heart thundering against your chest with an intensity that matched the rhythm of your racing breaths. In that electrifying moment, the confines of the room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the palpable tension of longing and need.

With a hunger so primal it bordered on desperation, you met his lips once more in a pulsing kiss, your bodies melding together in a fiery embrace.

The world dissolved into a blur of sensation as you drowned in the heady rush of his touch, every caress like a flame igniting your skin, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your entire being. Each brush of his fingertips against your skin was a symphony of ecstasy, each stroke leaving you gasping for more.

Your hands moved with a frenzied urgency, exploring every inch of his body with a fevered passion. Fingers traced the contours of his form, memorizing every dip and curve as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating pull of desire.

There was no room for restraint in this tempest of passion, no need for words as your bodies spoke the language of lust and longing, entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

When you parted for air, Sukuna moved slightly and you watched as he towered before you, even in his kneeling position. His presence was overwhelming, commanding the entirety of the room. His figure exuded an aura of raw power, every sinew and muscle of his sculpted physique hinting at the strength that lay beneath. 

Your eyes trailed down his form, taking in the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his torso. He was a towering figure, his height accentuated by the sheer magnitude of his presence. And as your gaze lingered on the bulge straining against the fabric of his pants, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of him.

He was a man of undeniable stature, you had always known so. But to see him in full, to the bareness of his person – you found that he was possessing a primal magnetism that drew you in even more with an irresistible force. And as he moved closer, the intensity of his presence seemed to envelop you, filling the air with an electric charge that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, you were acutely aware of just how small you felt in comparison, and yet, there was an undeniable allure to his size, a primal instinct that stirred within you at the thought of being consumed by him entirely.

And as he drew you into his embrace, you couldn't help but surrender yourself to the overwhelming sensation of being enveloped by his sheer magnitude, knowing that in his arms, you were safe and utterly, completely his.

As Sukuna stood before you, his presence looming large, you couldn't help but remark, "You're so... big."

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and husky. "And you like that, don't you?" he teased, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you admitted, "Yes, I do."

Sukuna's smirk widened into a grin as he closed the distance between you, his arms enveloping you in a strong embrace. "Good." he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with desire. "Because I'm going to make you feel every inch of it."

As Sukuna positioned himself above you, a primal hunger burned in his eyes, mirroring the fierce desire coursing through your veins. With a rough urgency, he slid inside, the heat of your connection igniting a wildfire of sensation that threatened to consume you both. Your eyes locked in a fierce gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the raw passion that bound you together.

His thrusts were relentless, each movement driving you both closer to the edge of oblivion. With each powerful thrust, he claimed you as his own, his dominance asserting itself with every primal urge. Your body met his roughness as though a thunderous wave against a cliff. You surrendered to him, every touch igniting sparks of pleasure that sent shockwaves through your entire being.

Before you could react, Sukuna closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, his hands gripping your shoulders with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. His touch was rough, demanding, as he pinned you beneath him, a primal force of nature unleashed. In that moment, there was no denying the intensity of his desire, no escaping the magnetic pull of his dark desires.

The hard, unyielding surface undernearth burnt you as his thrusts pushed you against the tatami floor and over roughly. It was a sharp contrasted with the searing heat of his touch, heightening the sensations that coursed through your body. Your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his hair as you returned his kiss with equal fervor.

As Sukuna positioned himself to bottom out, his eyes ablaze with hunger, he whispered huskily, "My darling wife, my little bride. My night flower.”

Your breath hitched as you met his intense gaze, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through you. "Yes, yes….y’r wi’e, ah, ah yo’r bri’e!" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “M’ husb’d, my husba’d!”

With a primal growl, Sukuna claimed your lips in a battering kiss, his hands gripping your shoulders with possessive strength. "Good little wife." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire. " I'm going to show you what it means to belong to me."

As Sukuna's desire intensified, so did his movements. With a growl of primal need, he increased the force of his thrusts, driving himself deeper into you with each powerful movement. Your body responded eagerly to his rough dominance, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You gasped at the intensity of his actions, your nails digging into his back as you surrendered yourself completely, honestly, truthfully, to the raw passion of the moment. "Mo’e," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. “Faster, fast’r…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's lips curled into a feral grin as he complied with your plea, his movements becoming even rougher, more primal. Each thrust was a declaration of his dominance, a reminder of the unbridled passion that burned between you.

With each thrust, Sukuna's control slipped further, consumed by the primal urge to possess you completely. His movements were primal, bordering on savage, as he claimed you as his own with each powerful thrust. The room echoed with the sound of your moans, a symphony of pleasure that filled the air as you surrendered yourself to the intoxicating rhythm of his desire.

You arched your back, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you sought to satisfy the insatiable hunger that burned between you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, a whirlwind of sensation that threatened to engulf you both in its fiery embrace.

As Sukuna's primal desire surged, he growled against your ear, his voice thick with lust. "You feel so good, so tight around me," he rasped, his breath hot against your skin.

Your own voice was lost in a symphony of pleasure, your moans mingling with his as you surrendered to the primal rhythm of your bodies. "Hard’r!," you pleaded, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. “I’m feeling….I’m feel’ng… Please!, ‘on’t stop! ‘Kuna, ah!”

With a primal grunt, Sukuna complied, his thrusts becoming even more forceful, more desperate. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an inevitable climax that promised to consume you both in its fiery embrace. 

You were certain that you could no longer think. Not about propriety, or who ever could hear. It doesn’t matter. Only he did. He was your world. And you know you were his.

As the intensity of your pleasure peaked, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "’m cloooose…" you gasped, your voice strained with the impending release. Tears flow through your face freely.  “‘Kuna, it…oh, oh!”

Sukuna's movements became even more relentless, driving you towards the brink with a primal urgency. He bites against your neck hard, causing you to mewl. 

 "Come for me," he growled, his voice rough with desire as he urged you on. “Come, little wife. You could do it. Give your husband one more.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you shattered into a million pieces, waves of pleasure crashing over you in an overwhelming crescendo. Your body trembled with the force of your release, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure that consumed you.

But Sukuna wasn't far behind. With a feral roar, he followed you over the edge, his own release tearing through him with a savage intensity. You felt him pulse inside you, each throb of his hot release sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

As you both rode out the aftershocks of your shared climax, you collapsed into each other's arms, spent and sated. In that moment, there was no room for anything else but the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together. 

As you lay entwined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, Sukuna held you close, his breath still ragged with desire. "I never want to be separated from you." he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “Not in this lifetime, not the next. Never.”

You melted into his embrace, overwhelmed by the intensity of his declaration. "I don't ever want to be apart from you either." you murmured, your heart swelling with love.

Sukuna's arms tightened around you possessively, as if afraid to let you slip away. "Promise me you'll stay." he pleaded, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

You looked up into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love reflected in their depths. "I promise, my love." you vowed, sealing your commitment with a lingering kiss. “Now and forever.”

IT WAS TERRIFYING TO STAND BEFORE YOUR FATHER NOW. You and Sukuna knelt side by side in the grand hall, the tension thick in the air. Before you stood your father, Lord Isamu, and his brother, Hiramu, Sukuna’s own adoptive father — your uncle. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you, it now feels real. But you had made your decision. It was time to face the consequences of your actions.

The grand hall, with its high ceilings and ornate decorations, seemed to close in around you. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of clothing or the distant murmur of servants. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the enormity of what you were about to confess.

Sukuna's hand in yours was a small comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in this. His presence, solid and unwavering, gave you the strength to meet the stern gazes of the men before you. Lord Isamu, your father, looked weary, the lines on his face deepening with concern. Hiramu, Sukuna's father, wore a mixture of curiosity and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

"Father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "we have come to confess something important."

Isamu’s eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle indication of anticipation His gaze, warm and reassuring, also held a hint of wariness as he studied you, as if trying to decipher the truth behind your words. It was a look you had seen before, often preceding moments of stern reprimand or heartfelt advice.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Despite the urge to look away, you met his gaze head-on, determined to convey the sincerity of your words. There was no turning back now; you and Sukuna had made your decision, and you were prepared to face the consequences, whatever they may be.

"Sukuna and I... we've... we've performed all the acts of marriage," you confessed, the words spilling from your lips in a rush. Each syllable hung in the air, heavy with implication, as you awaited your father's reaction.

For a moment, there was silence—a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Isamu's expression remained inscrutable, his features a mask of carefully controlled emotion. It was as if he were weighing your words, measuring them against some unseen standard of judgment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. There was a sharpness to his tone, a subtle undercurrent of disapproval that sent a chill down your spine. It was a tone you knew all too well—a warning that you were treading on dangerous ground.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought that it was disappointment in his eyes. Yet, beneath the veneer of reproach, there was something else—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or even a trace of resignation. Isamu was a man of duty, bound by the traditions and obligations of his station, but he was also a father, with all the complexities and contradictions that entailed. You were his only child left. What should he let you suffer more? 

As you awaited his response, you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were swirling in his mind. Was he disappointed in you? Angry? Or did he, in some small corner of his heart, understand the depth of your love for Sukuna, despite the circumstances?

Whatever the case, one thing was certain: the road ahead would not be easy. You had chosen to defy convention, to follow your heart in the face of overwhelming opposition. But as you looked into Isamu's eyes, you knew that you would face whatever challenges came your way, you would not forsake Sukuna. He was yours. He was your heart. He was your soul. Your husband. You would not forsake him, even if your father did.

Sukuna took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Ryomen Hiromi, the most noble of your blood, is my wife." he said clearly, his voice unwavering. "In every way that matters, we are husband and wife, my lord. I will not….I will not forsake my wife. Not even if you put me to death for it.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Ryomen Isamu sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the revelation. He felt a headache pulse through his head. The hubris of love between the youth. He could only wonder what it was like.

"This means the marriage with Koku cannot happen." he said, his voice tinged with weariness. The strain of the past weeks was evident in his eyes, the conflict between duty and his love for you tearing at him. “After all the work we put into it….”

“Father, I know that I….that I insisted on doing my duty.” You gulped as you held tighter to Sukuna’s hand. “But I cannot forsake my heart. I love Sukuna. I do. And my heart, it is stronger than anything else. I cannot live without it. And I cannot live without Sukuna. Please, father. I shall do anything you ask of me.”

“I too will do the same.” Sukuna added hastily as he held his head high in front of your father. He looks to you for a moment, before he returns his attention to his new father-in-law. “I am devoted to your daughter. Only to Hiromi. If there must be consequences, I will bear it with my wife, as she insists. We are yours to command, my lord.”

Hiramu laughed, breaking the tension with a hearty sound. "At least the kids are honest with us now, eh, brother?," he said, clapping Sukuna on the shoulder. He turned to you with a warm smile. "Welcome to the family, daughter-in-law."

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. Holding Sukuna's hand tightly, you looked up at your father. You let go of your husband’s hand and slowly lowered yourself to bow towards your uncle. “Thank you, father-in-law.”

Isamu's stern expression softened slightly, and he slowly nodded. “Well, what is there for me to do, brother? We have no choice….They have consummated marriage. It is known. It is done.”

“I shall try to be worthy of your trust, father-in-law.” Sukuna too humbled himself, bowing before your father, who sighed heavily at his act.“I will not let you down.”

“You best not.” Isamu retorts back, his words stern. “My daughter risks ruin, the clan risks war. There is much that costs us. You both followed your hearts more than your brain’s logics–”

"Now calm down, brother. You act like you aren’t happy that your daughter is happy." Hiramu said, snickering.

“She is my only child left, I am happy. But as clan leader, I simply cannot—”

Hiramu waved his elder brother off. "We'll deal with it. As long as Hiromi and Sukuna are happy. I don’t think anything is to be frowned upon.”

Isamu sighed, nodding resignedly at his younger brother’s words. “Perhaps your grandfather would be satisfied with a plausible marriage peace between your future children and Koku’s own children.”

“Or if there is a war—”

“Brother, we will not seek war just because our children wed.” Isamu sighed at his younger brother, who rolled his eyes. “There is more logic to Ankoku–dono than that.”

“We shall see.” Hiramu snickers bitterly. 

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, a flood of emotions overwhelming you. The fear, the uncertainty, and the relief all mingled together, leaving you momentarily speechless. Sukuna squeezed your hand, grounding you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your feelings.

"Thank you, father," you finally managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. "I know this isn't what we have planned, but I promise we'll make it work. We'll find a way to honor our families with the duties you endow on us now.”

Isamu nodded again, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You always were strong-willed, little one." he said softly. "I told you. I have always known you would find your own path."

Hiramu chuckled. "And it's a good path." he said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "No paths are bound, after all. The Ryomen will be stronger for this. Do not worry.”

As you knelt there, holding Sukuna's hand, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were not alone. With your family’s blessing, and Sukuna by your side, you were ready to face whatever came next. Nothing is hard now.

YOU ENJOYED THE PEACE IN SUKUNA’S ARMS. In the serene embrace of marital bliss, the world outside seemed to fade away as you and Sukuna basked in the warmth of each other's love. With every tender caress and whispered endearment, you found solace in the sanctuary of each other's arms. 

Your father and uncle's decision to delay the announcement of your marriage felt like a reprieve, a precious respite from the tumultuous currents of politics and conflict that swirled around you. In these quiet moments, you reveled in the simple joys of the companionship of your husband. In these slowly drifting days of joy, you happily yearned for finding refuge from the storm that raged beyond the confines of your shared quarters.

The prospect of a public declaration of your union loomed on the horizon, promising both joy and uncertainty. You do not know how the whole world will react. But for now, you were content to linger in this private cocoon of happiness, savoring each stolen moment together.

The world does not sleep in your bed. Your husband does. And you wanted to indulge into the privacy of your world as much as you could. You wanted to belong to each other before you did the world.

Wrapped in the soft glow of candlelight, you and Sukuna exchanged tender glances and gentle smiles, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude. In each other's presence, you found strength and reassurance, a beacon of hope in a world fraught with uncertainty.

As you lay intertwined in a tangle of limbs and whispers, the outside world faded into obscurity, its worries and conflicts distant echoes in the hush of the night. Here, in the sacred space of your love, you found sanctuary from the chaos that threatened to engulf the world outside. And for a fleeting moment, all was right in the world.

As the moon cast its gentle glow upon the room, you lay beside Sukuna, his warmth a comforting presence beside you. Thoughts of the future danced through your minds, visions of a family together, of laughter and love filling the halls of your home.

As Sukuna's whispered desire lingered in the air, his voice carrying the weight of his affection and longing, you felt a blush tinge your cheeks, a telltale sign of the emotions stirring within you.

His words, filled with warmth and tenderness, ignited a spark of joy in your heart, the prospect of sharing in the joys of parenthood with him filling you with a sense of profound happiness.

“I should like a daughter.” He whispers to you in the dawn of moonlight, kissing your cheeks tenderly. “One that looks like you. With all your warmth and your beauty. I should be satisfied with spoiling a tender girl from you.”

"I would be happy with that." you confessed, your voice soft and filled with love, your heart overflowing with adoration for the man beside you. The thought of bringing a daughter into the world, a precious soul to cherish and nurture, filled you with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. “But I want her to look like you too.”

“We can have a few.”

You pouted at him. “But that shall take effort.”

He laughs, pinching your cheeks. “Who says I shan’t have the effort to make it possible?”

“Oh, you are so happy to enjoy being in bed with me so well.”

Your husband nudges his head against your head. “Is it too bad for a happy husband to indulge in his little wife?”

“No,” You can only sigh with that, letting him hold you closer. “I shall indulge my husband as he pleases.”

Sukuna had a small playful glint danced in his eyes, his smirk betraying a mischievousness that never failed to elicit a chuckle from you. “Then my little wife shall be spoiled as can be by my affections.”

“Hm…I shall let you do so.”

“Oh, you must or I shall be forceful with it.” He presses kisses across your neck, inciting giggles out of you. 

"But I should like a son. One that takes after you," you admitted to him, your voice laced with affectionate teasing, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “With your sharp eyes and your impatience. Your cheeky nature. I shall like that so much.”

Sukuna's smirk widened into a playful grin as his fingers brushed against your loose locks, his touch sending a shiver of delight coursing through you. "You desire such a boy swaddling against your chest the way I do?" he teased, his voice tinged with amusement. “Oh, you shall like that won’t you?”

You couldn't help but laugh at his jest, swatting his hand playfully as a blush colored your cheeks. "Oh, you are insufferable, my love." you chided, though the fondness in your voice betrayed your true feelings. “All too much.”

In moments like these, surrounded by Sukuna's playful banter and affectionate teasing, you found yourself falling even deeper in love with the man who held your heart. The thought of starting a family together filled you with a sense of purpose, a shared dream that bound you together even more tightly.

Sukuna's playful smirk softened into a tender smile as he gazed at you, his eyes alight with affection. "Only because I love you, little wife." he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “My only night flower.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his love enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Despite the teasing banter, there was an undeniable depth to Sukuna's affection, a steadfast devotion that anchored you to him in a bond that transcended words.

"I love you too," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Sukuna's embrace and the soft glow of the moonlight, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you, as if all the pieces of your soul had finally found their rightful place. “More than you know.”

As the night wore on, you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, the rhythm of each other's breathing a comforting lullaby. In each other's arms, you found safety and serenity, the worries of the world fading into insignificance.

But the tranquility was short-lived. Abruptly, you were jolted awake by urgent shouts and the clamor of weapons clashing. Your uncle's voice pierced through the darkness, his words heavy with urgency.

“Rouse from your bed, make haste!”

“What has happened?” You pondered as you scrambled to your feet, with your husband’s help.

"The Fujiwara are attacking." he exclaimed clearly, with no hesitation.

Sukuna mumbles. "They never intended to keep the peace. They intended a distraction.”

Hiramu shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter now. There’s a lot to be done.”

“What must we do, uncle?” You whispered to him, your brows furrowing.

“Kill.” Hiramu uttered with tension. “In the way a Ryomen knows how.“

In an instant, the peace you had cherished was shattered, replaced by the harsh reality of war. With a sense of dread knotting in your stomach, you looked at Sukuna who nodded back at you resolutely. Your uncle led the way, his voice ringing through the compound. There was no way back. There was only kill, or be killed.

THERE WAS NO TIME TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR PROPRIETY. Emerging from the confines of your residence, still clad in the elegant folds of your inside kimono, you stepped outside hand in hand with your husband, Sukuna. The air crackled with tension, and the acrid scent of battle hung heavy in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms that drifted on the breeze.

As chaos erupted outside, the once serene courtyard transformed into a battleground, the urgent clangor of battle reverberating through the air like a thunderous symphony. The sounds of metal meeting metal, of shouted commands and desperate pleas, filled the space around you, drowning out all other noise.

With a sense of grim determination, you and Sukuna rushed forward alongside your uncle, your footsteps quick and purposeful. The courtyard was a hive of activity, clan members standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces set in expressions of fierce resolve as they channeled their cursed energy to create a protective dome shield against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks.

Amidst the chaos, voices rose in a cacophony of sound, some screaming encouragement and rallying cries, while others spat curses and insults at their adversaries. The air crackled with a palpable tension, each member of the clan fully immersed in the gravity of the situation, their commitment to defending their home and their loved ones unwavering.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you took in the scene before you, the tableau of bravery and sacrifice etched into the very fabric of your being. With every beat of your heart, you felt the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you, urging you to stand tall and fight for what you believed in.

With Sukuna's hand clasped tightly in yours, you steeled yourself for the battle ahead, drawing strength from the unwavering support of your loved ones. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in your determination to protect everything you held dear.

With determination etched into your features, you turned to Sukuna, your eyes meeting him with unwavering resolve. "I'll go and release cursed energy to reinforce the shield," you declared, your voice firm despite the tremor of fear that lingered in the depths of your being.

“You go with uncle Hiramu. There’s so many sectors of the manor that remain unshielded. They need you more than I do right now.”

Sukuna's gaze softened with concern, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "And I'll go and fight in areas the shield can't reach," he vowed, his voice resolute as he met your eyes with unwavering determination. “Be safe, wife.”

You nodded in silent agreement, a silent understanding passing between you as you shared a brief, tender kiss. In that fleeting moment, you conveyed a wealth of unspoken promises and emotions, a silent vow to stand together against the tide of adversity.

With one final, lingering glance, you and Sukuna parted ways, the weight of the impending battle heavy on your shoulders. Each determined to do your part in the raging conflict that threatened to consume your home, you rushed towards your respective duties, the urgency of the moment propelling you forward.

As you sprinted towards your kin, your body thrummed with an electrifying surge of cursed energy, its power coursing through your veins like a raging torrent. Every step forward was fueled by a fierce determination to protect those you loved, to stand firm against the tide of adversity that threatened to overwhelm you.

Your kin turned to you, their eyes alight with a mixture of hope and desperation as you approached, the aura of your cursed energy pulsating around you like a halo of light. With a determined focus, you joined your palms together, the air crackling with anticipation as the energy around you intensified, thickening against the encroaching darkness.

As you unleashed the full force of your cursed energy, a blinding white light erupted from your palms, enveloping those around you in a protective barrier of pulsating energy.

With each passing moment, the barrier expanded, its formidable strength pushing back against the relentless onslaught of the Fujiwara attacks, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos that raged around you.

“Be careful, Hiromi–sama!” One of your kinsfolk says to you, his strained voice echoing across the courtyard to you. 

"I will," you called back, your voice firm with resolve. With a final wave, you turned back to face the fray, your focus fully on the task at hand.

As you continued to channel your cursed energy, the strain of maintaining the protective barrier began to take its toll on your body. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as you poured every ounce of your strength into the effort, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon you like a heavy burden. You knew this cannot be kept up for too long.

You can give as much as your cursed energy as much as you can, but the other kinsfolk would not last. If you don’t have them, the barriers would fall.

As the chaos of battle unfolded around you, your voice rang out with commanding authority, cutting through the clamor like a clarion call. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you singled out one of the guards amidst the fray, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

"You!" you shouted, your voice echoing across the courtyard with a commanding force. "Rally all the women and children towards the tunnels. Alert an evacuation now!"

The urgency in your tone left no room for hesitation as you issued your orders, your gaze unwavering as you met the guard's eyes. Every word was imbued with a sense of purpose, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Around you, the chaos of battle continued to rage, but amidst the turmoil, your voice served as a beacon of clarity and direction. With swift efficiency, the guard nodded in acknowledgment of your command, his movements quick and decisive as he set about carrying out your orders.

As you turned back, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, a scene of horror unfolded before your eyes. One by one, your kinsfolk fell to the merciless onslaught, their cries of pain and desperation echoing in the air like a haunting melody of despair.

Shock and disbelief washed over you as you watched in horror, your gaze fixed on the figure responsible for the carnage. It was your own mother, Akiko, her features twisted with a madness that chilled you to the bone.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the betrayal unfolding before you, the realization of her treachery cutting deep like a dagger to the heart.

The protective barrier you had worked so tirelessly to maintain began to falter, the cursed energy of the Fujiwara merging and multiplying with each passing moment. As the shield came crashing down, a sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating blanket, the full weight of the impending doom bearing down upon you like a relentless storm.

In the chaos and confusion that ensued, you found yourself paralyzed with shock, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before you. The once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor were now engulfed in a maelstrom of violence and destruction, the air thick with the stench of death and decay.

With a heavy heart, you realized that the battle was lost before it had even begun. As the cursed energy of the Fujiwara swept over the manor like a tidal wave of darkness, you knew that there was little hope of survival in the face of such overwhelming odds.

You stumbled backward, disbelief etched on your face as you locked eyes with your mother, Fujiwara Akiko, amidst the chaos. "You…... how could you?" Your voice quivered with a mixture of hurt and betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of her actions.

Akiko's gaze bore into yours, devoid of any remorse or empathy, her expression twisted into a cruel sneer. "Oh little foolish girl." she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "You were always too weak, too sentimental. You have no place in the new order I am creating."

Tears welled in your eyes as her words cut through you like a knife, the realization of her betrayal striking you like a physical blow.

"But... why?" you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

A bitter laugh escaped Akiko's lips, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Why, you ask? Because power is all that matters, my dear. And I will stop at nothing to seize it, even if it means sacrificing everything I once held dear."

As the shock of betrayal rooted you to the spot, you watched in horror as your mother, consumed by madness and darkness, charged towards you with lethal intent. The air crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing in your ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a sudden rush of movement caught your attention. With a sense of surreal relief, you saw Sukuna appear beside you, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Without hesitation, he unleashed his devastating technique, Cleave, with a swift and powerful strike aimed at your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the force of Sukuna's attack collided with your mother, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the air. You watched in awe as the sheer power of the technique tore through the darkness that had consumed her, dispersing it like a veil lifted by the wind.

As your mother staggered back, her form wavering and flickering like a candle flame on the verge of extinguishment, he sent another wave of Cleave towards her. Finally, she fell dead. She was a traitor. And he would not forgive her.

You stare at the lifeless corpse of your mother, your pupils shaking. Sukuna rushed to you and held you. You looked at him, in a state of delirium as everything burned around you in intense flame.

“S-she…”

“It’s okay.”

“Where’s father?” You asked him frantically, “Uncle Hiramu?”

“They’re on their way here, night flower. Do not worry.” He whispers to you. “They are keeping the Fujiwara at bay, so the others may leave.”

“Then….”

“We must fight here.”

As the once tranquil grounds of Ryomen Manor erupted into chaos, the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the sounds of battle. The double heron banner of the Ryomen clan, a symbol of pride and honor, burned amidst the turmoil, its flames a grim reminder of the devastation that had befallen the once-proud estate.

You and Sukuna stood side by side, your backs against each other as you faced wave after wave of attackers. With each strike of your enemies, your resolve only grew stronger, fueled by a fierce determination to defend your home and protect your loved ones.

As the battle raged on, the air thick with the stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded, you stood amidst the chaos, a beacon of power amidst the turmoil. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you reached out with your mind, tapping into the primal forces of nature at your command. 

Eyes turning purple, your gaze turns narrow.

Hunger. Anger. Bitterness. Cruelty. Hatred.

You do not know what you were right at that moment.

 But one by one, you longed for more bloody hands. 

More and more until nothing was left, until nothing was there.

With a forceful command, you summoned torrents of water from nearby sources, the liquid crashing down upon the raging inferno with a deafening roar. The flames hissed and sputtered as they were doused by the relentless onslaught, steam rising into the air as the inferno was quenched.

But your control over the water was not gentle; it was a violent deluge, tearing through the flames with a ferocity that left nothing but charred remains in its wake.

Meanwhile, gusts of wind whipped through the battlefield at your command, their force amplified to hurricane-like proportions. The wind howled and shrieked as it tore through the air, sending debris and bodies hurtling through the air like ragdolls.

Your enemies were caught off guard, their movements hampered by the violent gusts that buffeted them from all sides. Limbs were torn asunder, screams of agony drowned out by the relentless roar of the wind.

The scene was gruesome, a tableau of chaos and destruction wrought by the sheer power of your manipulation. The ground beneath your feet trembled with the force of the elements, the air thick with the taste of blood and the metallic tang of fear. But amidst the carnage, you stood resolute, a force of nature in your own right, your power unchecked and untamed.

As the battle raged on, you continued to wield the elements with ruthless efficiency, your every movement a testament to the raw power at your command.

With each torrent of water and gust of wind, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, fighting tooth and nail to defend Ryomen Manor from its relentless onslaught.

Beside you, Sukuna became a whirlwind of destruction, his every movement a lethal dance amidst the chaos of battle. With Cleave, he unleashed devastation upon the enemy ranks, each slash a precise and calculated strike that cut through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency.

The air around him seemed to crackle with the energy of his fury, his movements fluid and deadly as he carved a path of destruction through the opposing forces.

With each swing of Cleave, Sukuna left a trail of carnage in his wake, mutilated bodies falling in his shadow as he moved with unparalleled precision and ferocity. His attacks were swift and relentless, each strike finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

It was as if he was a mad man as he clubbed one man after another — as he brutalized one after another. He drowned in blood, he drowned in vengeance. He was a beast.

As the battle raged on, hand-to-hand combat merged seamlessly with the elemental onslaught, the clash of cursed energy bursts through each and every stone.

The roar of brutality, the cannibalistic nature of survival danced in vicious harmony,  in a cacophony of chaos and destruction. Amidst the din of battle, Sukuna's presence was a constant, a beacon of strength and determination amidst the turmoil.

Together, you and Sukuna fought as one, your movements synchronized as you danced upon the battlefield. With each strike and each spell, you pushed back against the encroaching darkness, your combined efforts a force to be reckoned with amidst the chaos of war.

As the chaos of battle raged around you, your uncle Hiramu finally arrived, bloodied and broken, a grim expression etched upon his weary face. He threw his broken sword, grunting as he picked up another one from a mutilated corpse. From the way he looked, it did not seem promising. The whole world had turned into madness.

“You brats shouldn’t be here anymore!” Your uncle says with a voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Everyone else has fled! You both need to go, now!”

But you objected, your resolve unwavering even in the face of adversity. "A Ryomen stands his ground, no matter what, uncle." you insisted, your voice ringing with determination. “Hida cannot fall. Not in our hands.”

Hiramu's gaze softened, a mixture of pride and sadness in his eyes as he regarded you. "And what is there left to stand for if a Ryomen is dead?" he countered, his voice tinged with resignation. "Sometimes, little girl, survival is the only victory worth fighting for."

Turning to Sukuna with eyes full of emotion. “Be a good son for once, hm? Your old father here needs you to do as he asks.” Sukuna's expression wavered, torn between loyalty to his adoptive father and his desire to protect you. “Go. Now."

“Uncle—”

After a moment of internal struggle, Sukuna took your hand, his decision made. You looked at him, your face shattered into grief at what he intended to do. 

With a heavy heart, he looked to his adoptive father “Don’t you die yet, you old geezer. I swear, if you die—”

Hiramu snickered at Sukuna's words, a bitter smile playing upon his lips. “Have trust in your father, brat. I’ll live to see my first grandchild!" he admitted, his tone laced with grim determination. He smacks his son’s head. "But for now, escape. Go! Take her! I’ll hold them off!”

As you scream for Sukuna to put you down. Over and over as you fight against him, as your throat grows weary and pained, he will not relent. Not as the sounds of battle continued to echo behind you, a cacophony of clashing steel and crackling magic filling the air. With each step, the weight of your uncle's sacrifice hung heavy upon your heart as you screamed for him. 

You caught a glimpse of Ryomen Hiramu, standing tall amidst the chaos once more. He grins at you, waving his sword. Tears fell as easily as his enemies did. His sword was all you could see through the flames, flashing in the dim light against the belly of a Fujiwara one after another. But as one fell, another came and they surrounded your uncle soon enough. Until it was all disappearing, until he was gone from your reach. Until there was nothing.

With a heavy heart, you tore your gaze away from the battlefield, focusing instead on the path ahead. Beside you, Sukuna remained silent, his hand tight around yours as you navigated the maze-like corridors of Ryomen Manor.

You thought of your father, you wondered where he was. You wondered about Masaomi, who had gone missing as the attack went through the compound. You could not fight back the tears as they came. Not even if you wanted to. 

The air around you crackled with tension as you pressed forward, each step bringing you closer to safety and yet further from the home you had always known.

Though the way ahead was uncertain, you clung to the hope that your uncle Hiramu's sacrifice had bought you—the chance to live to fight another day. Even if you didn’t want to. Even if you didn’t think to. 

As you and Sukuna finally emerged from the chaos of battle, the cool night air washed over you like a balm, a stark contrast to the heat and violence you had left behind. With one last glance back at the manor, now engulfed in flames and shadows, you and Sukuna turned away, leaving behind the echoes of a life once lived as you set out on a new path, together.

It was then from the bitter dusk did the first drops of rain begin to fall. From afar, it had cast a somber veil over the charred remnants of Ryomen Manor. The cool droplets mingled with the tears that streamed down your cheeks, their gentle patter against the scorched earth a mournful lament for all that had been lost.

Sukuna knelt beside you, his expression one of uncertainty and helplessness as he watched you wrap your weary arms around your shaking legs. He didn't know what to say, nor did he know how to dry your tears. All he could do was offer his silent presence, a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

The rain continued to pour, harsher and harsher — a relentless downpour that mirrored the torrent of grief and sorrow that threatened to consume you. With each passing moment, Sukuna felt the weight of your pain pressing down upon him, a burden he couldn't bear but refused to abandon.

In that eve of the year 953, in Hida Province,

The proud Ryomen Clan of old, ancient blood;

Had all but fallen to the hands of Fujiwara's cruelty.

Of the Ryomen’s main bloodline remained two.

Husband and wife, Ryomen Hiromi and Sukuna.

facts about this chapter

this was entirely a chapter i saw from the beginning happening. the destruction of the ryomen is something i believe is the reason sukuna is the only ryomen we know.

this chapter took me the longest to write than any other of the series thus far. this was also the most emotionally taxing to write. so i had to come back and write some fluff and then drink matcha to calm down.

hiromi and sukuna's marriage was a last minute addition after my beta reading friend suggested that the idea of their marriage have consequence. but since it was never announce, only the ryomen know.

the fujiwara planned that they were going to destroy the ryomen the moment sukuna defeated koku. they think that koku being humiliated was the whole clan being humiliated. moreover, there's bitterness with the 'lowly' marriage of fujiwara akiko. this was a correction to the fujiwara.

masaomi is just the same age as koku, akimu and suzaku. masaomi was akimu's childhood playmate. and by extention, hiromi's own playmate. upon the death of akimu, hiromi became the focus his loyalty. hiromi considers him a friend.

heian culture doesn't really have a strict conduct of marriage, except in the in the nature of the noble's blood. if the marriage was ever announced, people would view hiromi to have married down even if sukuna took the ryomen name. because hiromi has noble blood and sukuna does not.

isamu and hiramu already knew that hiromi and sukuna would end up getting together because they knew too well that they were too in love to let go of each other. they already had contingency plans, if that happened. they knew that the kids being happy mattered more.

akiko is obsessed with power. and it was her end. i always wondered what i could do with her and her wanting. but its quite easy to see too that she's a victim of her family's own culture. if she had broken free from that, she would have ended up not dying.

hiromi's power introduced here is called 'heaven's bounty' which allows hiromi control of the surrounding and nature itself for a limited amount of time. she combines this with hand to hand because she doesn't know how long her cursed energy could last.

hiramu doesn't have that strong of a cursed energy, but he makes up for it with his strength. which has been noted since 'the night we met' when they first met sukuna.

fujiwara ankoku in a way is inspired by zenin naobito but worse. he'd commit to the destruction of his own family. blood and innocents to have satisfaction and revenge. i think he'd get even worse with time passing by.

with ryomen manor burned to the ground, the whole of hida is under occupation by the fujiwara. hiromi and sukuna are wanted alive by the fujiwara, the rest of the ryomen and their retainers have bounty in their heads, but to death

the ryomen family tree looks like this

lord ryomen - his wife

|

isamu hiramu

m. | (adoptive)

akiko sukuna

|

akimu hiromi

the fujiwara family goes like this

fujiwara ankoku - his wife

|

lord fujiwara akiko

| |

koku akimu hiromi (married) sukuna

[thatcatsalem]

Sorcerer!Sukuna NS*FW Alphabet

Sukuna x OC (Yuri)

For the posts that are in the format of headcanons and such, “you” will be used as a method of storytelling. Outside of those, the main story will revert back to third person.

A = Aftercare

Usually just grabs you and throws both of you in a shower to get clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin, but he will happily fool around in the shower as well.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his back and arms, and often flexes his biceps. He also quite enjoys his thighs because you look so vulnerable between them, sucking his cock.

On you, it is your ass. He will constantly have his arms on your bottom, whether it just by grabbing it, stroking it or slapping it. He likes your stomach and hips, it is his favourite place to cum and he will grab onto your sides if you try and squiggle away.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

It tastes a bit tangy, with citrusy bitterness to it. He cums loads during the first round, and often doesn’t have much control on where it goes. He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin so when he jerks off, he either aims away from himself or just does it in the shower.

As per you, he loves cumming on your ass or stomach, but also enjoys seeing you trying to swallow it all. He finds a weird sense of pride seeing his cum leaking from your cunt, and will always attempt to show it back.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really enjoys being fingered during oral sex but would rather choke on his own tongue than confess that. You only discovered that because you decided to boss him around in bed and lapped on his ass with vigour whilst fisting his cock. Sukuna came so much that he had to deep clean the bed with a steamer; it soaked through covers and mattress protector.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He had his fair share of hook ups and a couple of beneficial relationships. He has slept with a few of his sorcerer colleagues, both women and men, but never has been one for relationship.

Only with you did he get to truly experiment with his skills, and hone it out so well that he was now able to make you cum with a few flicks of his tongue if they mood is set right.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Mating press. It’s deep, it’s close, it’s fucking hot and he gets to look you in the eyes when he is rearranging your guts. He loves fucking you during your period because you are so much more sensitive and your cervix is practically weeping for him to soak it.

He likes the feeling of your ankles pressing against his shoulders and will growl so loud it will practically make you cum right there. His balls will smack against your skin, ass juggling with each trust, and your moans only will spiral him into madness. It’s difficult for you to concentrate on anything, pinned under him like an animal with a feral beast of a man mounting you, snaked protectively over your body with his cock buried as deep as possible.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He doesn’t have much time for jokes but he will laugh if you get desperate and start begging him. He will tease and outright bully you playfully but won’t break the spell of intimate sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps himself well groomed, with dark happy trail and has piercing on his cock that he definitely regrets as an adult but doesn’t take off because it makes you feel absolutely otherworldly when it rubs against you g-spot. First time it happened, you squirted all over his hips and then some more.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Depends on the mood, really. Sometimes he will be quite intimate and sometimes it will be so urgent and rough that there will be no room for romance.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin so when he jerks off, he either aims away from himself or just does it in the shower.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking. Choke him, let him choke you. Squeeze his windpipe, let him cover your mouth whilst you cumming and cut off your air supply.

He is also incredibly proficient in art of Shibari, so he will not just tie you up, but will hang you upside down, spread and ready for him to feast on you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Balconies, roofs, windowsills - he likes the thrill of being in a public space yet too far away from prying eyes. He will press you against a window, fully dressed, and will finger you so tortuously that you will have to beg him to let you cum.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He is a man, most things will turn him on. He does get particularly rowdy every time you will be fighting against someone, smooth and deadly, and will immediately will need to fuck you against nearest surface. Power turns him on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sukuna doesn’t share. Under no circumstances will he even entertain an idea of cuckholding or threesome, the only thought of it makes his blood boil. He will quite literally slice anyone who will look at you funny.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Either, really. He doesn’t think there needs to be a favourite between two, and will always happily partake in 69-ing. He will double his efforts in order to make you break first, and will buck his hips further down your throat to make you choke on his cock as you are cumming in his mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sukuna has to be in a peculiar mood to be slow and sensual, and usually prefers sex to be quite rough and fast. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of fucking for hours on end and finishes his rounds fairly fast, but is ready for another session not much later if not straight away.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He likes them; but in his mind a quickie should be done in semi-public setting, like a car or utility closet. Otherwise, you might as well enjoy the experience.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Sukuna is all about experimenting; but he will need his partner enthusiastic consent or he ain’t doing it. He is not dealing with someone’s teats that aren’t from pleasure. He doesn’t find the idea of hysterics attractive, so he uses strict green, amber and red rule in the bedroom.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Doesn’t last very point but can go as many as physically possible rounds a day. His personal record with you is eight in a row, with only a small break for lunch.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does have toys and enjoys using them on both himself and you. He will not be opposed of you using them on him, and he will demonstrate the variety of his collectibles that ranges between stunning crystal butt plugs and expensive ropes he uses to tie you up to his cat o’nine tails and collars for you to wear.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You might as well just give up, because this man will tease you until your eyes are rolling, thighs are trembling, and until you can only choke on your own saliva instead of any witty comments.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He is not necessarily vocal, but he does moan and grunt in restrained manner, and you will do anything in your arsenal to make him whine. He does it so reluctantly and with defeated growl that it straight up makes your cunt clench.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

In this universe, Sukuna is bisexual. He tends to date and sleep with women, but he has had sex with men, even if he never dated any (he didn’t really date anyone other than you… no one had the patience…). It wasn’t a common occurrence in his life and it doesn’t really poses an opportunity due to his dating life, but he will never say no to you eating his ass out and making him cum from you pressing onto his prostrate.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He is above average, but not incredibly long - it’s mostly his girth that makes you lose your shit. He will reach your cervix through a specific angle and make you whine and cry but it’s the stretch of your walls accommodating him each time that makes it truly unforgettable. He has a piercing on his cockhead and two rings of tattoos around his base. He is well groomed but doesn’t really shave that often.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Quite high but he can go for a week or so without much need for sex - to the point that it won’t even cross his mind to initiate anything unless he it is instigated; he is that constantly tired. Before you, his hook ups were mostly a weekly occurrence, but nowadays are a more frequent engagement.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost immediately - this man is tired and will need a short nap straight away. So it is either shower or sleep. Or both.

If you liked this, leave a comment 🩵

[rkivesyoshi]

to be feigned into love with ryomen sukuna

special chapter, read the rest here.

pairings. oc x sukuna

content. sfw

language. english, tagalog

song.

warnings. none

tags. ryomen sukuna x fem!oc, fake dating trope, lawyer!ryomen x art director!oc, established couple

synopsis. a second time truly is magical, if given the chance. shortly after itsumi and ryomen had become an official couple, they decided it was time to present themselves to each of their parents, again, and this time, as true lovers.

note: this is written in first person point of view and in the perspective of the oc, itsumi.

enjoy reading!

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ೃ⁀➷ ` ੈ˚ ★ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ೃ⁀➷ ` ੈ˚ ★

“Ryo, sure ka ba, okay lang ‘tong suot ko?” I ask for the nth time, checking myself in the mirror.

We’re going to meet his parents today and i have never felt more conscious, let alone anxious in my entire life. My job requires for me to converse with various people and I never once had emotions like this when doing so.

Ryo walks up to me and from the back, he wraps his arms around my waist planting a kiss on the crown of my head. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“What about my outfit, sa tingin mo, hindi ba sobra o kulang?” Aligaga kong tanong dito.

“It’s just right, my love.” He answers with no hesitation.

Realizing there was no benefit in me overthinking things, I took his word for it and we finally got to leave our apartment.

“Ah, my son was right, you are a gorgeous young woman, Itsumi.” Nakangiting sambit ng nanay ni Ryomen matapos akong mag-mano rito.

Ngumiti naman ako pabalik, “Thank you po, tita! Pero mas maganda po kayo, alam ko na kung kanino nag-mana si Ryo.”

“Naku!” Lumingon ito sa asawa. “Narinig mo ba ‘yon, mahal? Sa akin daw namana ng anak natin ang kagwapuhan niya.” Pag-bibiro nito.

“Hindi naman ako tatanggi ro’n, mahal.” Sagot naman ng tatay ni Ryomen.

Naramdaman ko naman ang pag-iinit ng mukha ko nang mapagtanto ko ang aking sinabi.

“Lagot ka,” Pag-singit ni Ryo sa gilid ko. “Hindi ka na papasa kay papa niyan.” Halata sa kanyang boses ang pang-aasar.

Pinalo naman ito sa balikat ng kanyang nanay at pinagsabihan, “Baka maniwala si Sumi. ‘Wag mong binibiro ng gano’n.”

Then dinner time came and it was nowhere near what I expected it to be. Magaan ang pakiramdam ko na makipagusap sa mga magulang ni Ryo. Palabiro ang kaniyang tatay at ang kaniyang nanay naman ay sinasabayan din ito. We shared heartfelt laughs, talked about our plans, dreams, and shared our values. Surprisingly, his parents and I have so much in common — so much more than my own.

My heart felt so full and joyous.

It was on the way home that I realized Ryo was reared in a secure household. Looking back, maybe it was the reason why he left and didn’t force anything between us—why he just let time and fate bring us together once more.

“Honestly,” Pag-uumpisa ko. “Kung ayaw mong makaharap si dad ulit, I respect that. We don’t have to go.”

Bahagya itong tumawa. “Bakit naman ako aayaw na harapin si tito?”

“Tito agad?” Tinignan ko ito ng may panghuhusga.

Natawa itong muli sa reaksyon ko. “What, does he prefer to be called sir or gusto mo, dad na lang din itawag ko?”

I cringe at the thought of Ryomen getting shut off in an instant if he had called my father dad on their first meeting in a long time.

“I can handle your father, Sumi.” He says, grabbing my hand as he guides us out of the apartment.

The ambiance from when we had dinner with the Sukunas compared to now differs greatly. This one makes you want to rip your head off, whereas the other was carefree. Moreover, I’m not entirely sure if having both of my parents here is good or bad. Though, on the bright side, this is the first time in a long time I’ve seen my divorced parents together.

“You’re that guy my daughter dated before, am I right? Iyong galing sa mababang pamilya.” Walang emosyong sambit ng tatay ko.

“Dad!” Pag-protesta ko rito.

Naramdaman ko ang kamay ni Ryo sa aking hita at marahan niyang hinaplos ito na para bang ipinapahiwatig sa akin na ‘wag akong masyadong mag-alala sa sitwasyon.

“You weren’t born a chairman. Naging empleyado ka rin na may mababang pwesto.” Pag-sumbat naman ng aking nanay.

I am already regretting even planning this dinner. Sana ay hindi na lang kami tumuloy.

“Yes, sir. I was that guy.” Sagot ni Ryomen sa tanong ni dad.

I gave him a glare, but he only squeezed my thigh, maybe as an attempt to reassure me that it’s all going to be fine.

“Was?” Natatawang tanong ni dad. “Bakit, marami ka na bang naabot sa loob ng maikling panahon?”

Kumukulo na ang dugo ko sa inis habang kalmado pa rin si Ryo.

“I believe so.” Sagot ni Ryomen. “I finished both of my undergraduate and graduate degree with latin honors. I was a top-notcher in the bar exam, and I work at a well-known law firm now.”

My dad snickered, “Face me again when you’ve built your reputation as a lawyer, or not. I know that field is very saturated.”

“I am building it at the moment, sir.” Ryomen smiles. “I specialize in corporate law and have won numerous lawsuits now. If you need my help, don’t hesitate to call. I heard your company is having troubles right now.” There was a hint of mockery in his voice.

Dad was left speechless and moments after, the silence was overrun with my mom’s mocking chuckle.

“Kid,” she turned to Ryomen. “I liked you before and I like you even better now. Good thing you two got back together.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He smiled.

Mom waves her hand as if telling him off. “Enough with the ma’am. You can call me tita, or mom, but I prefer mom.”

Ryomen gave an amused chuckle before turning to me and winked. He leaned in closer to me and whispered, “What do you say, did I do a good job, princess?”

Naramdaman ko ang init ng aking mga pisngi.

“Kids,” Mom calls and we both face her. “Do you want to eat somewhere else? Nakakawala kasi ng appetite ‘yong atmosphere dito. Maybe we could go shopping, too.”

Pagkasabi niya noon ay dali-daling tumayo si dad at padabog na lumabas sa private dining area.

“So, kailan ang kasal?” Mom asked.

We ended up not having to change restaurants. Nevertheless, mom still insisted on going shopping and so we did, for two more hours. The night started out disastrous, but I’m thankful that at least Ryomen could get along with my mother.

“Bakit ‘di ka man lang nag-react do’n sa tanong ng nanay ko tungkol sa kasal?” Tanong ko kay Ryomen na ngayon ay nakaupo sa couch.

“I did, I smiled.” Simpleng sagot nito habang inaalis ang mga bitones ng kanyang damit.

Umupo ako sa kanyang tabi, “No, I mean, why didn’t you protest?”

Huminto ito sa kanyang ginagawa at tinignan ako na para bang may mali sa aking sinabi. “Protest?”

Tumango ako.

“Baby,” he turned to me, “there is no other ending to this than us getting married. Why would I protest? I intend to marry you, Sumi.”

“Isn’t it too early for you? You’re still starting on your career. Marriage is way different than dating.”

Ryomen examines me with a sincere gaze. “I’m not going to leave you. Hindi lahat ng marriage nasisira, Sumi.”

I look down, feeling a bit disappointed in myself for projecting unto him. “I know. Sorry.”

He scooted closer to me tilting my chin up before leaning in to kiss my cheek, “I’m going to marry you,” then my neck, “build a family with you,” then my lips, “all while loving you endlessly, my love.”

“You’re safe with me, Sumi.” He says before kissing me again, this time with more passion, as if it were full of love, hunger, and desire.

It wasn't long before my back touched the velvety feel of the sofa, and the sound of our moans and lips colliding together as he relentlessly professed his love for me faded into the night.

disclaimer! this is a fan-made content. i do not own the rights to the character of ryomen sukuna. nevertheless, i respectfully request that you refrain from reposting, translating, or copying my content because the plot is my original work.

[oddeyevibes]

You’ll have to pry the “Sukuna’s reincarnated lover” trope from my cold dead hands.

[osunism]

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

🔞 Rating: Explicit [MDNI] ❤️‍🔥 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna ⚠️ Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. 🪧 Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. 🎧 [ godslayer principle ] -- Sundari's Playlist

⚠️ Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

𓃰 Chapter 12: In Every Lifetime

"An ending, a beginning, an ending, and a beginning. And so it goes; round and round; the great Wheel ever-spinning. The harmony of death and rebirth; sin and salvation; sacred and profane; poison and cure; disgrace and redemption; curse and blessing.The universe is a series of cycles; the most perfect math there is.

Who says our story must end here, my love?"

We all carry within us our places of exile, our crimes, and our ravages. But our task is not to unleash them on the world; it is to fight them in ourselves and in others. —Albert Camus

     Yuji cups Sukuna’s remnants in his palm. A miasma of crimson smoke swirls above them. Two crimson eyes glare back at him, and half the remains of a mouth sneer in hatred. Yuji seems unbothered by even this last vestige of vitriol his uncle bears for him. In Sundari’s inverted domain, what they have come to understand is not divine mandate, but a Heavenly Summons, their souls are briefly connected, their memories bleeding into one another’s. For a brief instant, they are alive and dead all at once, and Sukuna sees the simplicity of Yuji’s life unfold before his mind’s eye, painful and warm and filled with all the things his own life lacked.

     He sees his daughter’s ancient origins, from her birth amidst a clan of strong warrior women, to her ascension as a deified sorceress, protector of women and children, to her sealing after the terrible curse—his curse—finally found its fangs at the throats of the innocent; the painful fracturing of everything she was, the loss of all she knew. He sees too, the life she created for herself, a new version of her, still capable of strong, and ignorant of the cursed markings that give everyone pause. He sees memories of her dying her pink hair to jet black, a cloud of curls just like her damnable, beautiful, self-sacrificing mother. But, Sukuna notes with pride, Sundari’s face is all his: pride, insolence, and confidence in unfathomable spades.

     Sundari and Yuji see Sukuna’s soul, fractured and made whole repeatedly over centuries, and the whole cursed story of him unravels itself in their minds, including Kenjaku’s scheme that led to Yuji’s conception. They see all his deeds laid bare, and they see his story with Nadja unravel: love and loss, over and over again, and his determination to find her across the centuries. They feel the terrible emptiness of his unanswered question: why did you leave me? Worst of all, they see Sukuna before he became the force of reckoning he is now. They see the coiled, frightened child with too many arms, eyes, and mouths, and too much power to be controlled. For all of his life, others have sought to control him, and Sukuna has never accepted anyone’s yoke.

     At the core, they understand the hunger in him. Ravenous and all-consuming. Insatiable.

     This is what happens when two domains do not clash…but overlap, two souls vying not for dominance, but harmony.

     Yuji and Sundari’s souls hum on a similar frequency, a sustained note across time and space, heard and felt throughout Heaven and Earth.

     “Sukuna,” Yuji’s voice sounds the way a gentle summer breeze feels, and two crimson eyes glare up at him, glittering with malice…and fear. Mortality has never pressed so closely to the King of Curses in all his days.

     “Let’s try this again,” Yuji says, and there is a compassion in his tone that cuts deeper than any slash Sukuna has thrown.

     “Let’s try living with each other, not to curse one another…”

     Sukuna feels the curse in his guts, squirming and wriggling and burning.

     “Even if no one accepts you…”

     Stop it, brat. Stop it.

     “I can live with you.”

     Sundari is poised for the kill, but Yuji’s words give her pause and she regards him curiously. Even after all her father has done, all he has sought to do, Yuji still seeks to offer him the benediction of mercy? Sundari knows she should be angry—at the very least, offended—but she cannot find it in her heart to care. She feels scraped and raw and exhausted. She wants to end this cycle, to strip away her father’s curse and free the world of the burden that is him.

     But she’s seen his memories, she’s seen what he was, and what he was forced to become.

     “Don’t you dare try and play the compassionate card now, brat,” Sukuna sneers. “I am a curse, and you’d do well not to underestimate me.”

     “You aren’t a curse, dad,” Sundari says, weariness coloring her voice, blood dripping from her nose. She doesn’t know how much longer she and Yuji can sustain this connection. “Just…you can literally try again. Maybe Yuji’s right: maybe there’s another way. Another path. Anything but more of…this.”

     Sukuna’s gaze roils towards his daughter, taking in her appearance. The markings that once limned black into her brown skin are faded, almost more like birthmarks than tattoos. No matter what boon she has won from Heaven, she will bear his markings for all her days. That is how powerful his curse is.

     You aren’t a curse.

     I’m not a curse. I am cursed.

The realization reverberates through their shared connection, and all at once he gasps.

     Sundari and Yuji are suddenly gone, as is the divine presence that had united them. He stands alone in the darkness, but the presence in the void is familiar. He’s been here before.

     “Well, well, well,” a voice drawls, drawing his gaze downward. “Didn’t expect to ever see you here, of all people.”

Gojo Estate, Kyoto, December 30, 2018

     In the aftermath, Sundari dreams. For once, she is uncertain if what she sees is memory or fabrication, but she pays attention. The visions are disjointed, always in media res as dreams are prone to being, but the recurring symbols and themes are there, and she does recognize some bits of her own memories in the patchwork film reel.

     Sundari dreams, and Megumi stands in the darkness Sukuna has left behind, overcome by the sudden silence. He is once again alone with his own thoughts.

     But everything is so fuzzy around the edges. His thoughts move with the ponderous, amorphous pace of a lava lamp’s contents, and somehow always just out of his reach. It takes him hours to figure out how to formulate his thoughts into the obvious conclusion: Unlimited Void. This is the ill effect of surviving five waves of Unlimited Void. His thoughts are disjointed and fractured, out of sync and hard to catch.

     Ironically, he understands Gojo now more than ever.

     His eyes open, and he hears himself gasp, fills his lungs with air, breathes of his own volition for the first time in weeks.

     Sukuna is really gone, but Megumi can feel something knotted in his soul; furrows, like a claw marks. The separation should have killed him, but Sundari had a barrier active to protect him from sharing Sukuna’s fate.

     Megumi hears himself panting as his thoughts come in a sudden rush, then stretch out again at that damnable pace.

     “Fushiguro!” Yuji’s voice shatters the silence, and he sits up suddenly, startled all the way back into his body. His eyes take in the sight of Yuji, clad in his uniform, posing with a box.

     Out of the box springs Nobara Kugisaki. Megumi’s eyes go wide. His mouth works but no words come. Kugisaki, sporting a black eyepatch embroidered with a hammer, nails, and rose crest, grins in triumph.

     “Sorry I missed the party!” She boasts. “I was getting some much-needed beauty sleep! I heard it was a woman who saved the day!”

     Yuji rolls his eyes. “Well, she’s my cousin…technically. Kind of.”

     “Okay…are you ever…gonna explain that?” Megumi asks, frustrated with how slow his thought-to-speech reflexes have become. He imagines Gojo is having a good laugh at his expense about this. Megumi gets annoyed at the very thought.

     “Look who finally decided to join the land of the living!” Gojo’s voice shatters the quiet, and Megumi becomes annoyed for real. But he’s also relieved to see his sensei alive and well. Gojo is grinning, sporting new scars to match Yuji’s own. Megumi touches his face, is relieved to not feel Sukuna’s features swimming under his skin like a parasite. He can feel the rugged scar tissue where Sukuna’s face had overlain his own. It will be some time before he can look in a mirror comfortably again. He catches Yuji’s gaze, and the boy’s brown eyes are soft with sympathy. If no one else understands, Yuji understands what it is like to be ridden by the curse that is—was—Sukuna.

     Over the next few hours, Gojo and Yuji piece together the entire tale of mounting his rescue, from the moment he was taken, to when Sundari freed Gojo, to the final battle. Megumi remembers Nadja’s unexpected sacrifice in more ways than the others, and he looks away at the mention of her name. He had been present for Sukuna’s reunion with her, had born witness to their…relationship. He isn’t sure if Sukuna knew he was aware or if he simply did not care. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, only that he cannot find it in himself to hate Nadja for it. Whatever else there was, love had existed between those two, twisted as it was. And in the end, she’d chosen to save the person who could stop him.

     Megumi wonders if Gojo was right about love being the most twisted curse. In the end, it had claimed Nadja and Sukuna both. He looks at Yuji again, wonders if…

     “Where is Hikmat-san?” He asks. At the mention of Sundari, Yuji and Gojo exchange glances.

     “She’s not awake yet,” Yuji says sadly. “After she dismissed her domain, she collapsed. Gojo-sensei brought her back here with you.”

     Megumi looks down at his hands. He remembers being present when Sundari came back for Nadja’s remains. He remembers feeling Sukuna’s uncertainty. His fear. He was afraid of losing everything, including his life. But seeing his own daughter vowing to kill him had broken something in him. Megumi owes her a debt he can never hope to repay, but Sukuna has taken someone he loves as well.

     “She’s going to be in recovery a while,” Gojo says in that easy way of his, as if he doesn’t doubt Sundari will be up and about in no time. “But she’ll bounce back. I know my girl.”

     “Your girl, sensei?” Nobara asks, waggling her eyebrows. Gojo spreads his hands and sticks out his tongue.

     “Yeah, and if I can convince her, she’ll be your sensei too when you bunch officially become third years.”

     Yuji and Nobara look excited, their eyes sparkling. Megumi looks somewhat suspicious. He has a feeling there’s more to it than Gojo lets on, but he withholds his suspicions if only because his mind is still fuzzy, like moss has grown over the parts of his brain that are normally so quick to connect the dots. How long will this go on for, he wonders. He supposes he should count himself lucky this is the worst of the side effects.

     He should be dead, after all.

     Megumi is strong enough to walk on his own, and he dresses while Yuji and Nobara fill the emptiness with mindless chatter and Gojo looks on with a secretive smile, his eyes blindfolded once more. For a moment, it feels like old times. Megumi looks around for a calendar or clock. His phone’s been lost since Sukuna stole his body.

     “How long has it been? Since everything happened?” Megumi asks. Gojo grins in a way that makes Megumi regret asking the question just as Nobara answers: “You missed Christmas!”

     Yuji frowns and glares at Nobara. “So did you!”

     Immediately, she and Yuji break into an argument about whether or not missing Christmas was more important than saving the world. Gojo’s grin softens into a fond smile, and whatever mischief he had planned for his own response is withheld for now.

     Megumi does not get an answer to his question either way, and sighs.

     By now, he has deduced that they are on the ancestral Gojo Estate, a place he hasn’t been to since he was a small boy still learning to harness his technique. Being trained by Gojo Satoru’s own tutors before matriculating to Jujutsu Tech had made him intimately familiar with the grounds.

     He knows where to go, following Sundari’s cursed energy to another room. His classmates trail after him, still bickering, and Gojo walks behind them at a leisurely, long-legged pace.

     It’s just like old times, it’s nothing like old times.

     Megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes because of course Gojo put Sundari up in his old bedroom. She looked so exhausted, even in her comatose state. Megumi can’t help the stab of guilt that twists in his guts. Yuji places a hand on his shoulder.

     “It’s not your fault,” he says, understanding as always. Megumi’s jaw tenses but he can’t ignore how comforting it is to have Yuji touch him again after having Sukuna put them at odds. “She’s gonna wake up soon.”

     “Yeah,” Nobara says. “She can’t miss New Year’s!”

     “What is it with you and holidays?” Yuji asks irritably. Nobara places her hands on her hips, fixing him with a stare.

     “These are important milestones, and it makes sense that the woman who saved your sorry asses would be there to celebrate with us.”

     Yuji wants to retort that none of that makes any sense and that it was a team effort that took down Sukuna, but Gojo is brushing past them because Sundari is waking up. They hear her groan tiredly—irritably—before she’s moving.

     “Fuck me,” are the first words of the woman who saved the day. Nobara suppresses a snort of laughter, Megumi’s brows go up, and Yuji’s eyes go wide. Only Gojo seems unphased by Sundari’s choice of words.

     “Morning, beautiful,” he says to her, and she squints up at him with all four of her eyes. Her pink curls are disheveled, sticking up in all directions, her skin is dry and a little sallow, and there are shadows under her eyes Megumi’s shikigami could hide in.

     Satoru has never found her more beautiful because she’s still here. Alive.

     “What fuckin’ year is it?” Sundari asks, rubbing her face with both hands and yawning. It’s only when she uncovers her face that she notices the trio of students crowding the doorway.

     “Oh,” she says. “Sorry. Uh…come on in, kids!” She glares at Satoru, who is grinning. “What the fuck, man?” She mouths and he blows a kiss in response. Sundari does her best to fix her face as Yuji and Megumi join her. She takes a look at Megumi’s face, notes the scars in the places where her father’s face once was. He’ll bear those scars for all his days. She looks down at her hands, notes the scars of innumerable slash marks, like macabre tiger stripes. Also a mark from her father.

     The tattoos are still there, black again, no longer faded. Whatever else she got from the boon she demanded, Heaven still sees fit to remind her of her origins. No matter, she will carry the scars and the ink with pride. Let the world see how Sukuna’s daughter treats with sorcerers.

     You can prove them wrong.

Sundari looks at Yuji, who smiles at her, but there’s a blush in his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

     Cousins. She wants to laugh. What the fuck was Kenjaku’s problem? Ah well, at least she can say she’s got some semblance of family left to her. Yuji isn’t so bad, after all.

     “So,” she says. “I’d like to formally apologize for my dad being such a dick. Uh…Yuji, you’re still gross for just eating his Finger like that, but sorry for everything that came after. On the plus side, I got my memories and powers back. On the other plus side, my dad’s dead! Satoru, I’m starving…is there pizza?”

     Satoru laughs despite himself. “Whatever you want, babe. I think Shoko’s going to be by later for a physical.”

     Sundari swings her legs out of the bed and stands. She feels a slight rush that makes her momentarily lightheaded, and feels Satoru’s strong grip on her arm, steadying her. She meets his gaze, and they share a smile.

     Nobara gags.

     “I cannot believe Gojo-sensei got a girlfriend before I got a boyfriend,” she grouses. Yuji glares at her.

     “How is that hard to believe? I had to watch you get your literal brains blown out!”

     Nobara grins, her remaining eye glimmering. “I know. Wasn’t it fucking cool?”

     Yuji makes a face. “It was horrifying! I thought you were dead!”

     “As if some punk ass cursed spirit could drop me! I’m the Girl of Steel!”

     The bickering begins anew, and Megumi lets out a long-suffering sigh. Sundari decides she likes Nobara immediately. Maybe she’ll consider Satoru’s not-so-subtle requests that she look into teaching.

     “Gojo-sensei,” Megumi says. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

     Satoru presses a kiss to Sundari’s temple, giving her a gentle squeeze before excusing himself to the hall with Megumi. Satoru knows there’s a few things he owes to Megumi, but he’s surprised when the door shuts and Megumi immediately throws his arms around Satoru.

     It startles both of them.

     Satoru’s arms come up and he places them around Megumi with a gentle smile. Neither one of them question the moisture soaking his jacket as Megumi simply clings to him.

     “I’m sorry, Megumi,” Satoru says, and means it. “When I took you in all those years ago, this wasn’t what I envisioned for you. I should have prepared you better, but none of us could have—”

     “It’s fine,” Megumi mumbles, taking a deep, shuddering breath. It’s not fine. Not right now. It probably won’t be for some time. “I just…I thought I was going to lose everything I ever cared about. When he…”

     There’s a lot.

     Satoru pulls Megumi back to look at him.

     “Do you want to talk about it right now? Are you ready to?” He asks, none of the usual playfulness in his voice. Megumi swallows, wipes his face hastily.

     “No,” he says softly. “Not right now. It’s too…fresh. My thoughts are still jumbled. I just needed to see that you’re real is all. I thought…when Sukuna figured out how to bypass infinity…”

     Satoru’s brows go up in surprise, a piece of the puzzle clicking into place. So that was why Nadja had intervened. She knew what Sukuna was using the Ten Shadows for. Satoru frowns. Why hadn’t she warned him ahead of time? Likely she counted on Sukuna wanting to counter her in the event of her betrayal. She had been playing against him, and Satoru had just been another piece on the board. No one had counted on her sacrificing her life to save Satoru. He remembers Sukuna’s shocked expression as Nadja countered his World Cutting Slash with her Executioner Blade. He remembers it shattering in her hands and seeing Sukuna’s technique broken in two. He’ll never forget that as long as he lives.

     He wishes he could commend her. He decided he will tell Sundari where Sukuna’s half of Nadja’s ashes are kept, since her own urn was destroyed in the final battle.

     “I’m the Strongest, remember?” He assures Megumi with a grin. Megumi doesn’t look convinced, and Satoru is worried about the state of his ward’s mind. He makes a note to hold Megumi back from missions until he’s been fully evaluated. And to ask if he still wants to be a sorcerer at all given all that has happened to him.

     “Why did you take me in…all those years ago?” Megumi asks. “Was it because of my technique?”

     Satoru hesitates. He’s been bracing himself for this conversation for a long time, but he hadn’t expected to survive his encounter with Sukuna. He’d had a letter prepared in case anything happened to him! Now he has to actually tell the whole gory story.

     Damnit, Nadja.

     “Well,” Satoru says. “It was your father’s dying wish, actually.”

     Megumi’s eyes go wide. “What?”

     Satoru chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s a funny story, in retrospect. A little ironic, really. Like I didn’t even know he had a kid, and then when I saw you it was like—well of course his kid would have fucking Ten Shadows, right?”

     “Gojo! You’re rambling. What do you mean it was my father’s dying wish? You knew him?”

     Satoru sighs. “Briefly, and it wasn’t a happy acquaintance. He tried to kill me, actually. Almost succeeded too. Look, one of these days I’m gonna sit you down and tell you the whole ugly story, and then you can summon Mahoraga or something and we can have it out, if you want.”

     “You killed him, didn’t you?”

     The words are like a guillotine blade, cutting all the life out of the small space between them. Satoru blinks, takes a deep breath, and slowly reanimates on his next exhale.

     “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did. His final words were for me to keep you from being sold to the Zenins. From my understanding your dad was a gambling man, and his final bet was on you, Megumi.”

     Megumi stares at Satoru, his expression caught in a crossroads of too many things to name. For much of his life, he assumed his father had simply sold him off and had been living a charmed life off the money these last few years. For much of his life, Gojo Satoru allowed him to believe this.

     “I tried to tell you when we met,” Satoru says, as if reading his thoughts. “But you said you didn’t care to know what your dad was up to; I can respect that, and you’ve always known your own mind. I figured if you ever changed your mind, you’d ask. I admit my delivery of the news wasn’t the best. This isn’t much better. But the bottom line is he believed in you, Megumi. It’s the one thing he and I have in common.”

     Megumi’s throat bobs in a heavy swallow, and he looks away.

     “And then I got my entire body hijacked by Sukuna, killed my sister—”

     “You didn’t kill her,” Satoru says sternly, eyes flashing like blue fire. “Sukuna killed her, and he did it deliberately to hurt you. That death is not on you.”

     “You don’t know that!” Megumi says. “How could anyone know that?”

     Satoru snorts. “Actually, there’s one guy I can say who does know that. His whole technique revolves around shit like this, actually.”

     Megumi’s brow furrows and he makes the connection in his mind.

     “Higuruma-sama? Yeah…he trapped Yuji in his domain once. Put him on trial.”

     Satoru grins. “That’s him! He agreed to work as a sorcerer without question. He’s absolutely batshit, perfect for the job. Anyway, if you ever wanna know what you’re actually guilty of, just ask him to pull you into his domain. But be careful, if you’re guilty of something really bad, he’ll be obligated to kill you.”

     “What? Why would you tell me that?”

     Satoru rolls his eyes. “Because you’re blaming yourself for shit that wasn’t your fault, Megumi. And since you won’t believe me—your gorgeous, twice-blessed sensei—when I tell you you’re good, then I guess we can see if Higuruma has to, you know…” Satoru makes a quick slicing motion across his neck. Megumi stares at him impassively.

     “Never mind,” Satoru says. “You aren’t…you’re taking this remarkably well.”

     Megumi’s gaze is distant, as if he’s looking into the past and a soft smile crosses his face.

     Hey kid…what’s your name?

     Fushiguro.

     Not Zenin? I’m so glad.

     “What?” Satoru asks. “Don’t keep me in suspense, kid.”

     Megumi blinks like a waking dreamer and meets Satoru’s gaze.

     “Nothing, just remembering something from Shibuya, is all.” he says with a secretive smile. Satoru smiles back. He knows all about nothing. Satoru’s smile fades in the next instant, however.

     “Wait, why Shibuya? Megumi, I can’t even mention Shibuya without three sorcerers cowering in a corner in tears over it. Why are you smiling about that?”

     Over the next several weeks, they piece together the massive puzzle of chaos left in the wake of Sukuna’s devastation, and Kenjaku’s schemes. Sundari learns from the memories she and Yuji shared with Sukuna that Sukuna devoured Tengen whole and absorbed her into himself. As a result, his remains must be preserved in order to maintain the barriers Tengen has been strengthening and maintaining for countless centuries.

     Sundari also knows that Tengen is partially responsible for what Sukuna became. She and Yuji discuss it in private, agreeing to only share the knowledge they’ve gleaned from Sukuna’s memories with Satoru. It means a major power imbalance in favor of the Gojo Clan, but better them than Kamo. There’s also the dilemma of Choso, who bears the Kamo clan’s hereditary technique, but being what he is, will never ever be formally recognized by the clan. Yuji and Sundari take Choso in without question. The Kamo Clan raises no fuss about it, so long as the abomination of their clan’s shame makes no claims for power. Choso himself has no interest in clan politics, preferring to remain with his younger brother, Yuji, who continues his training in the art of Blood Manipulation in earnest.

     Sundari decides she will unpack the strangeness of their family tree at a later date. That Yuji hasn’t freaked out about a single reveal is a testament to his steely nerves, but Sundari thinks it’s because Yuji prefers a more simplistic view on his life and doesn’t overthink the minutiae. Sundari, however, has a millennium of experience under her belt and still nothing has floored her quite like the revelation of her father’s side of the family. Yeah, Sundari tucks that away for later…maybe they’ll recruit a jujutsu therapist they can all talk to one day.

     Aside, there is still the matter of the higher ups being decimated. No one knows who is responsible, and yet there can be no other answer. But who will dare come forward to accuse the Honored One, who is responsible for Sukuna’s defeat and helping return balance back to jujutsu society?

     Sundari has to commend Satoru for his political cunning. He’s consolidated enough power to execute his dream bloodlessly, but that still leaves the problem of jujutsu sorcerers being short staffed year-round.

     There are still curse users out there, and a missing armory from the Zenin Estate that no doubt is finding its way to the black market for exorbitant prices. The work of a sorcerer is unending, and Sundari joins Satoru on his investigations and missions, acclimating to life as a modern-day powerhouse, feared, scorned, and respected all at once.

     So it goes, round and round.

     Time seemed to slip through their fingers like water. The work of fixing Tokyo, of chasing curses new and old, of rebuilding the parts of Tokyo ruined by Sukuna alone…it is exhausting, and it is bitter. But it must get done. Even Nanami, injured as he is, finds a way to contribute in other ways, lending his expertise to the less experienced sorcerers, ensuring they have what it takes to survive in a field as chaotic as this one.

     Little by little, jujutsu society finds a way to limp back to life.

     And Satoru finally does the one thing he has been wanting to do since before this whole mess began: he buries Suguru.

     Once, he might have seen to this task alone, but he calls Shoko, tells her his intentions, and she meets him at the chosen location without any questions asked.

     Watching Suguru’s pyre burn feels like he is burning an old version of himself. Satoru cannot quantify what this moment will mean when he looks back on it later on in his life, when the grievous wounds have finally been balmed to oily scar tissue. He just knows that the version of him that loved a version of Suguru that died long before his body, no longer exists. As Suguru’s remains burn, and he and Shoko pick the bones from the ashes and place the ashes in an urn, Satoru lets himself weep for the first time.

     Shoko watches the strongest sorcerer alive curl up and weep, and she takes him in her arms and lets him. Satoru weeps for all that he has lost, all that was denied him, and all that Suguru could never become because his Six Eyes couldn’t tell him what was wrong before it was too late. He weeps and mourns at last—at long last—and purges his heart of everything. Suguru should have been here. This dream was because of him, and he should have been here. But Satoru knows he must let that regret go too, if he wants to succeed at all, he has to let it go. And after a while, the tears run dry, and his body feels soft and pliant in Shoko’s embrace. He sees the silent trail of tears down her cheeks and knows that they both needed to be here for this.

     It feels like a chapter being closed for both of them, and an unspoken apology for their own culpability in the wounds both of them bear from it.

     But there is no more room for guilt and self-flagellation.

     Satoru gives himself three days of quiet reflection in the aftermath, running the gamut of grief in all its ugliness and beauty and catharsis, and then he returns to the searing present. He returns to the realization of his dream.

     He finds his phone, sends a text to Sundari.

   Satoru resists the urge to point out the joke about too many appendages and organs, considering Sundari’s appearance. If he intends to get any affection tonight, he must behave. He still laughs, though.

     Satoru smiles to himself at her reply. It’s sweet of her, really, to give him space to grieve. Still, funnel cake sounds good, and he misses her. With everything returning to some semblance of normalcy, Sundari returned to her apartment, which didn’t surprise him in the least that it’s in Ginza. He makes a note to tease her about it later. Apparently, Nadja left everything to Sundari in her living will should anything happen to her. Satoru finds that ironic, as well. Still, it’s left Sundari nearly as wealthy—if not wealthier—than he is.

     Satoru considers it. He likes her apartment. It’s a quaint, earthy place with a vibe that reminds him of a rainforest in the middle of the city. Sundari keeps so much green, growing stuff in her home that the very air feels different.

     Satoru can already hear Sundari’s laughter in his head.

     Satoru is glad no one is around to hear his veritable squeal of glee. He needs to tell Nanami to get a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever he’s into. Having one is actually amazing. He wastes no time, packing a bag and taking a cab to Sundari’s mid-rise apartment building. It’s an older building in a more solid style, and far more spacious than newer buildings tend to be. Satoru can make out her balcony, crawling with pothos and wisteria. Smirking and glancing around, he teleports into the air, floating over her balcony railing. Sundari just happens to be walking by when she spots him. Satoru grins when he sees her four eyes go wide, and she lets out a startled shriek before calming down to let him in.

     “What is your fucking problem?” She demands, but there’s no heat in her tone. Satoru closes the distance between them, wrapping her in his embrace and kissing her soundly.

     Sundari forgets his unorthodox entrance in favor of the kissing. By the time Satoru pulls away, his cheeks and hers are flushed, both of them heavy-lidded and half-drunk from the contact.

     “Oh,” Sundari sighs, a drunken smile slipping onto her face before she lets out an involuntary giggle. Satoru grins. It pleases him that he can fluster her and make her soft when the rest of the world must experience her so harshly.

     “You hungry?” Sundari asks. “I can order something or cook.”

     “I came here to eat you,” Satoru says easily as he removes his shoes before entering the apartment proper. Sundari glances at him with a smirk over her shoulder. She doesn’t fluster from his declaration, not after everything they’ve been through, and she doesn’t take his desire for granted.

     “Is that why you’re here, pretty boy?” She asks in that tone that makes Satoru shiver and smile. Yes, he’s her pretty boy. He wants to be her pretty boy. Hers and hers alone.

     “Yeah,” he says and without warning, he activates his technique. Sundari yelps as she’s suddenly drawn to him by an unseen force. Satoru catches her in his arms, and then he’s kissing her again, this time leaving his marks on her jawline and neck, breathing in deeply to imprint her scent on his very soul. Sundari makes small noises of pleasure, letting out a whimper when she feels the soft, wet muscle of his tongue trace patterns on her neck, tasting the salt of her skin.

     “I missed you,” Satoru murmurs into her skin. “I’m so happy I found you.”

     Sundari doesn’t know why her eyes suddenly sting with the threat of tears, and she has to catch her breath and blink several times.

     “I missed you too, Toru,” she whispers, and then lifts his head to look at him, staring into the pieces of Heaven he calls his eyes. “And I’m happy you found me too. More than.”

     It’s simple physics after that.

     Satoru and Sundari make their way to the bedroom, stripping as they go. She loves getting him out of his teacher’s uniform at the end of the day, and Satoru loves undressing her in general. Sometimes what she wears leaves little to the imagination [which he appreciates], but tonight she’s clad in clothes for lounging: a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top that has clearly seen too many wash cycles. Satoru helps her out of all of it, until she’s bare and laying back against the pillows on her bed, looking like some goddess out of a myth.

     As far as Satoru’s concerned, she might as well be. His goddess, at any rate. And he will pray to her in a way that only he can.

     For a moment, they take one another in, blissfully naked. There’s no skylight above Sundari’s bed, but there is a lantern that throws mandala patterns against the walls, dancing through the leaves of her massive monstera that crawls across her ceiling, making everything look wild and erotic and dreamlike. Satoru reaches out, traces the cursed markings on her body: the concentric rings on her strong shoulders; the black bands on her arms, wrists, thighs, and ankles; the ones on her face; the ones on her chest, following the swell of her high and proud breasts. He grins when she gasps as his thumb and forefinger capture and roll a nipple between them. He watches her legs part a little, eager. His eyes drift down, catch the sight of the mandala pattern illuminating the slick on her inner thighs, dripping from her cunt.

     His eyes travel back up to her face, framed by blush-pink curls. Four ruby eyes gaze back, guileless and expectant.

     “You are so fucking beautiful, Sundari,” Satoru whispers reverently. “I could look at you forever.”

     Sundari’s cheeks bloom with heat and she bites her lip, suddenly feeling bashful. She knows she is beautiful, but it makes her stomach go into freefall whenever Satoru tells her. Her heart flutters in her chest.

     “You’re beautiful too,” she whispers, holding out a hand and beckoning him closer. Satoru goes to her, crawling between her spread legs, his cock hard and heavy between his thighs. Sundari’s hand lowers, her fingers wrapping around it and making Satoru hiss in surprise and then pleasure as she swipes her thumb over the head, smearing the droplets of his seed forming at the tip.

     “My pretty boy,” she whispers, her voice husky with desire. Satoru leans in, makes a whining sound as she squeezes his cock and nips his glossy, pink lips. “Mine.”

     “Yours,” Satoru says in a rush of breath as she strokes his cock with the tender firmness of one who knows he’s hers. It’s true, and his fingers curl into the sheets as he fights the pressure building in the base of his spine.

     “Sundari…” Her name comes out as a strained and hoarse gasp. Sundari smiles at him knowingly, and he sees the tender cruelty in it.

     “Yes, baby?” She asks, slowing her stroking. Satoru’s hips thrust involuntarily, seeking more of it. He wants to be inside of her—needs it, actually. He wants to envelop himself in the tight, wet confines of her cunt and never leave. He wants to fuck her until she dissolves like spun sugar in his mouth.

     “Oh?” Sundari’s smile becomes a grin. “Is that what you want, pretty boy?”

     Fuck. Had he said all that shit out loud?

     Satoru is silent for a moment, his cock hard as stone in her hand. He’s not the strongest sorcerer for nothing.

     “Yeah,” he says, his tone suddenly harder than before. “I do.”

     The equation between them shifts as Sundari’s eyes light up in excitement and Satoru pounces on her before she can react to the shift in the air between them. They struggle for dominance, of course, mindful of their strength for the sake of the bed itself rather than one another. Satoru still thinks fondly of the crater left by their coupling in his yard.

     This is different, though. There is no adrenaline from battle to fuel them: only the need and want for one another.

     And love too.

     Satoru is so sure this is love because he has tried being without her and he can’t.

     Don’t leave me baby, I just found you.

Eventually, Satoru pins Sundari, grasping her legs to place over his shoulders. He pushes her legs back, exposing her cunt, which opens like a beautiful flower, petals glistening and dripping with dew for his mouth.

     Satoru grins, his eyes glowing in the dim light, and spits directly into her pussy.

     Sundari moans and writhes in response at the obscenity of it all, and then Satoru leans down and meets her dripping cunt in an open-mouthed kiss. He does as he said he would: he eats her. Satoru’s jaw will ache, his tongue will ache, but Sundari will be thoroughly and unerringly sated. He makes sure of it.

     His lips wrap around her clit, sucking hard, moaning as if she is the best meal he’s had in ages. Sundari reaches for him, legs spread, and his hands find hers, linking their fingers while he gets lost in the slippery, wet heat of her, eyes closed in private bliss.

     “Ngh…Satoru…” She moans and he makes an inquisitive sound, looking up at her through heavy-lidded cerulean eyes, glowing brighter than a galaxy’s heart. Sundari keeps moaning his name, dragging out the vowels and hissing out the consonants as he works her clit until tears spring to her eyes and she’s panting and flushed and quivering with the desperate need for release.

     He pulls away just before she can come, and she lets out a frustrated sound.

     “No,” he says, his voice hoarse; chin, cheeks, and lips glistening with her juices. “No, baby. I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel this pretty pussy squeezing me when you lose your mind.”

     Sundari, so desperate to climax, nods and agrees. Satoru leans up, sitting back on his heels and dragging her by the hips into his lap, keeping her comfortably laying on the bed. His cock seems eager too, straining and hot against her went cunt. Satoru bites his lip before reaching down to grasp his cock in one fist, stroking himself before pushing the head inside of her. Just the tip.

     “Satoru!” Sundari hisses, and her eyes flash dangerously even as he rewards her with a smug smirk, teasing her by sliding the head of his cock up and down her slit.

     “Yeah?” He breathes. “Just testing the waters, baby, don’t worry.”

     And then he slips inside of her, relishing the guttural moan that spirals up from her as he sinks down to the hilt inside of her. For a moment he holds her hips, and it very still. He looks down at where they’re joined, the soft white hairs of his pubes rubbing against her clit and making her shiver. He bites his lip again when he feels her walls constrict around him. He’d almost forgotten about her conscious muscle control. But he’s ready, this time.

     “Mmm,” Satoru groans, tightening his grip on her thighs. “Ask nicely, Sundari.”

     Four crimson eyes narrow at him, and he rewards her with a blade-ready smirk, eyes flashing like stars in the dusky twilight of her bedroom.

     “You come into my home to make me beg?” She demands, moaning in frustration and indignation and pleasure alike as Satoru moves his hips just so, giving her just enough friction to make her pulse leap in her veins, but stopping just short of satisfaction. He can do this all damn night. He can do this until the world crumbles to dust.

     “No,” Satoru says. “I came into your home to make you come, but I want you to ask me, Sundari. I want you to ask me to make you come.”

     Sundari glares up at him and Satoru can’t help it: he laughs. She looks so much like Sukuna, down to the way her nose wrinkles to show her displeasure. Sundari bares her fangs.

     “Something funny, Six Eyes?” She growls, and Satoru feels her strength returning, legs pushing against his grip as her ankles lock behind his back. He’s still buried nine inches inside of her, but the way she’s focused you wouldn’t know it. Satoru reaches down, makes her watch as he swipes a thumb against her swollen clit.

     Sundari lets out a choked sound, her control momentarily slipping. Satoru teases her clit with light, tight circles, and her eyelids flutter. The lower ones even close.

     “That’s it,” Satoru purrs, watching her as he feels her pussy grow wetter around him with each stroke against her clit. He contemplates making her come without having to move his hips, but he craves movement as much as she does. It’s a contest of wills at this point, and unlike battles involving jujutsu, the flesh is far less durable during sex. He can only stem the tide of his own climax for so long.

     “S-Satoru…” Sundari’s voice comes out as a stammering whimper, and she pulls with her crossed legs, trying to force him to start moving. He sits there, stroking her clit idly, and there’s an almost cold wintery expression on his face, as if he’s the god and she’s the supplicant.

     The Honored One grins as his goddess opens her mouth and begins to beg him.

     The words come first as a stammering trickle, then a sultry, moaning torrent. She begs him and as she does, he increases the pace of his stroking thumb, spreading her slick over her clit, noting with pleasure when he sees his cock glistening with her fluids in the soft, golden light.

     “Come for me,” he murmurs and Sundari does. Satoru hisses as her walls flutter around him, and he holds her steady, stroking her clit through the orgasm that has her writhing and calling his name. It’s only when she’s about to settle down that Satoru gives in and begins to move his hips. He has been nice enough, and his goddess is strong. He fucks her.

     Sundari’s hands claw for purchase, one fisted in the sheets, the other going to her headboard to grip it tightly or risk getting her head knocked through the wall. Satoru doesn’t give her time to adjust because he’s indulged her pleasure. It’s his turn to chase that glittering edge, and he wants her to take it. God, she has done so much in the short time since her unsealing, he just needs her to take his cock right now.

     For a long stretch of time there is only the sound of Sundari’s short staccato gasps, Satoru’s labored groans, and the heavy, wet sound of skin meeting skin as Satoru attempts to nail her to the mattress. Sundari can’t think straight, and she knows that’s exactly how he likes it, gripping her hips and lifting her halfway off the bed to pull her along his cock. She throws her head back, screaming his name, begging him not to stop, begging him to come inside of her.

     Satoru plans to grant all of these requests in due time, but right now he wants her in every way he can have her. He stops his rhythm to pull her up. Without needing to be told, Sundari tangles her limbs around him: four arms pull him close and together they situate themselves into the Lotus position, face to face, heart to heart, body to body.

     “Hey you,” Satoru murmurs, nipping her lower lip with a smile. Sundari meets his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, the concentric circles within them swirling. The curse she carries is gone, but the brand of her lineage remains. She is terrifying and beautiful and wild and he lovesherlovesherlovesher.

     “Hey you,” she replies, her voice sultry and husky.

     This time, they move as one, surging with one another’s breaths, cresting and falling into the troughs of one another’s respective rhythm, and finding harmony. Somehow the pleasure is insurmountable this way, and both of them become exceedingly aware that this is different.

     “Satoru…” Sundari breathes, and she can’t seem to fill her lungs fast enough as she clings tightly to him, nails scraping his back as she moves. “Satoru…I…”

     “I know, baby, I know,” Satoru murmurs, kissing her tenderly, open-mouthed and saturated, wanting to share her very breath in this moment. “I feel it too.”

     That bright and terrible presence from her domain inversion is watching them. The universe itself is sanctioning this union, and by doing so, redressing an imbalance for which their stars were written.

     The pleasure is beyond flesh, now. Sundari moves her body without thought and Satoru maps the contours of her back with his hands, sliding them up and up against her. He chants her name, kissing her temple, her cheeks, her neck, and taking her earlobe between his teeth just to feel her shiver in delight.

     In this space there are no demands made of the other, no commands, and no roles. There’s only the frequency of pleasure they have found, reverberating through both their souls like some primordial note sung long ago, and sustained through every cosmic union so heavily soaked in fate and destiny.

     When Satoru comes, he realizes that this is exactly how he felt when he was on the edge of death twelve years prior. And Sundari tumbles after him, clinging to him tightly as their thoughts and their very souls seem to touch like two exposed wires, sending sparks to spangling in their blood.

     The bright presence recedes like an ancient wave, and as they return to the skin and bone of their bodies, sweat-slick and panting, they realize that the only presence in the room now is their own.

     “Holy shit…” Satoru breathes, burying his face in Sundari’s neck. “That was…I think that’s the best sex I’ve ever had in my fucking life.”

     Sundari smirks, turning her head to nuzzle him with an almost feral purr.

     “Yeah,” Sundari agrees, her voice quiet and mystified. “Same. Do you think…what did it mean?”

     Satoru raises his head, his eyes swirling with a steady rotation of what Sundari swears are clouds this close. She blinks before the side-effects can start setting in: dizziness, vertigo, and dissociation. Satoru explained it like microdosing Unlimited Void.

     “I have a theory, but let’s talk about it in the morning. Tonight is for fucking.”

     Sundari’s laughter rings in the air like temple bells.

     Winter gives way to the tentative thaw of early spring. Most of the curses have been cleaned up, and Tokyo is almost back to her old self: hustling, bustling, busy, busy, busy. The rhythm of the city returns, and sorcerers resume their work of managing the cursed energy of an entire people. There are changes, however.

     The pay is better, for one. Satoru consulted with Mei Mei for that particular bit, and called a meeting of the clan heads, large and small, as well as elders in the community, and representatives of independent factions in order to oversee the drawing up of a new charter. It took several months, and there was dissent, but the basis of the new charter was laid, and Satoru sees part of his dream brought into reality. Just like infinity.

     Satoru’s snide remarks to Gakuganji the previous summer turned out to not be in jest or even in spite: his birth did herald a shift in the jujutsu world, and the biggest change is the number of sorcerers being born and those recently awakened to their abilities. Satoru helps delegate the task of assessing these new sorcerers and offering them a chance to study at Jujutsu Tech. He has been consulting with his colleagues and they came to the agreement that they can no longer feasibly pull only from high school aged students, especially since Kenjaku’s awakened sorcerers need guidance.

     Thus, Jujutsu Tech becomes open to all sorcerers for study, regardless of background or nationality. Satoru knows the biggest blind spot they had with regards to Kenjaku’s scheme was their obsession with secrecy, even from one another. He vows not to make such a mistake again.

     The changes are met with varying degrees of excitement and disdain. The students currently enrolled are thrilled to welcome more classmates, and sorcerers working for Jujutsu Headquarters begrudgingly welcome the extra hands.

     Despite all this, it is Sundari’s presence that polarizes jujutsu society. Sundari herself has known that it would be this way, but when she receives the first, crisp press of her new Jujutsu Tech instructor uniform, she knows that Satoru has fought a hard battle to approve her for training.

     The uniform itself is splendid: all black, of course, a tailor-cut jacket, with the gold swirl buttons representing Jujutsu Tech, a black mock-neck sleeveless top, and a black form-fitting mid-length skirt, slit up both sides for ease of movement. Her choice of footwear is a pair of black, platform boots. Sundari notes that the jacket itself has the trishula symbol embroidered in red on the back, to match the marking that adorn her and Sukuna’s brow. She smirks, knowing that it was Satoru who likely had a hand in that particular design choice.

     These don’t have to be a curse.

Sundari observes herself in the mirror with a hint of pride. Her pink curls are styled into two puffs atop her head, and she blinks all four of her eyes and for a moment she thinks she sees her father’s reflection instead of her own. She traces her face markings, and then smiles.

     “Well dad,” she murmurs to herself. “Here’s to a better way.”

Sugisawa Municipal High School, Sendai City, April 4, 2019

     The sun is shining when the car winds through the hills toward Yuji’s former high school. Ijichi is silent but occasionally glances at Yuji and Sundari, who sit in the back seat, each peering out their respective windows. The radio is turned to a news station, and they listen with half an ear as reports of Tokyo’s continued recovery from the Culling Games. Of all the barriers that had trapped players inside, Sendai’s region had been the most violent, and the scars of that war—invisible to non-sorcerers—are clear as day as they pull up to the high school.

     “Are you sure about this?” Ijichi asks as they step out of the car. Yuji and Sundari share a look, and Yuji nods.

     “It’ll be fine, Ijichi-san,” Yuji says brightly with his characteristic grin. The scars of Sukuna’s domain are faded, leaving only the slash he received from Mahito, and the scar at the corner of his mouth. Sundari’s own scars from Malevolent Shrine are faint, looking more like tiger stripes than anything else, and nothing can compete with the stark black lines of cursed ink.

     “Alright, I’ll defer to your judgement, Itadori-kun, Hikmat-san,” Ijichi executes a perfunctory and crisp bow. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to go.”

     Yuji and Sundari head toward the school. Since the Culling Games Sendai has been quieter, mostly because the residents are still frightened of the curses that sprung up over the winter like mold. Sundari’s cursed presence alone is enough to send any lesser curses scattering. They are like shy animals, crowding up against the borders of humanity, eager to taste the very people who feed their existence.

     They cross onto the football field and Sundari’s brows furrow.

     “Is there a dead body buried out here or something?” She asks. Yuji glances at her, eyes wide.

     “Wait, so the rumors were true?!” He asks back. Sundari blinks several times, staring at him. She decides not to press the matter further as Yuji leads her to the Stevenson screen further outside of the football field’s endzone. Yuji fishes an ornate, silk-wrapped box from his pocket. The inside is lined with red silk, and sitting there is a mummified finger belonging to Sundari’s father…and Yuji’s uncle.

     “And we’re sure this is the last one?” Sundari asks. Yuji gives her a knowing look.

     “Yeah!” He says. “Since he can’t come back through the Fingers anymore, the energy can ward off evil. A good talisman, don’t you think?”

     Sundari looks down at the box, and it’s not lost on her that both her parents have been reduced to such small talismans. Her mother’s ashes sit on her dresser, and her father’s remaining Finger will now ward off evil. She makes a mental note to come back and see about purifying the energy of this place because she is pretty sure there’s a dead body buried around here.

     Yuji places the box within the screen and shuts the door. Both he and Sundari press their palms together in prayer. For a moment the air is charged with the scent of burnt ozone or burnt sugar. Their cursed energy blooms like a lotus in tandem, the power of their jujutsu sealing the deal, as it were.

     When it is done, the air seems to return to normal, and the sun shines a little brighter. Sundari feels as if her heart is lighter, and there’s a warm feeling in her chest. She bites her lip as tears prick her vision. She never thought she’d feel a modicum of anything for her father. He’d been nothing short of horrible to her in the brief time she knew him.

     And yet…

     He’d loved her mother once. Loved her enough to beg for Sundari’s existence. Loved her enough to stay his hand from killing her. Loved her enough to call Sundari’s existence a miracle.

     Maybe he’d loved Sundari a little bit too.

     “Hey,” Yuji says, glancing at her. “You okay?”

     Sundari blinks away the tears and nods.

     “Yeah…just…taking in the moment. Thanks for doing this, Yuji. It was a brilliant suggestion.” She smiles at him, and he beams with pride, and for a moment he doesn’t look like a war-scarred sorcerer. Just a boy of sixteen with a strange family tree and a new lease on life. Sundari turns away from the Stevenson screen, away from the last vestige of her father.

     “Let’s go,” she says. “I promised Satoru I’d grab some kikufuku for him on our way back. And I’ve apparently got more teacher training.”

     Yuji and Sundari walk back across the football field, back toward Ijichi and the car, chatting about what kind of kikufuku to get, and Yuji offers to show Sundari around Sendai, claiming he’d already given Sukuna a tour, but he wasn’t as excited about it. Their voices fade across the field as the sun crawls across the sky, its light shifting the shadows in the trees.

Unnamed Shore, Unnamed Time

     “Well, well. What’s this, our second conversation?”

     Sukuna stares down at the cursed spirit, who leers up at him with that oil-slick grin and mismatched eyes.

     “Something like that,” Mahito says, recalling that none of the so-called “conversations” had been pleasant ones. He stands to his full height, but even that is nothing compared to the overwhelming height of the King of Curses. “My ability has to do with reshaping the soul, so I guess it makes sense that I wound up in this place.” But something about Sukuna is different…

     “Hey,” he says. Fuck it, there’s not much the King of Curses can do to him in this place. Sukuna raises his brow in response. “Something I meant to ask you. You were lying before, weren’t you? About living according to your nature. You weren’t acting in accordance with your nature at all, were you? You were taking vengeance for what was done to you.”

     Sukuna stares at the cursed spirit and for a moment Mahito thinks he’s fucked up again.

     Instead, Sukuna lets out a laugh that sounds almost amused and self-assured.

     “What difference does it make?” He asks. “I lived how I knew how to go on. I…” He thinks, shuts his eyes a moment, remembering. “Well, not entirely true. I was afraid my own curse would burn me up, so I could only spit out the curses writhing in my guts. I had two paths open to me, and I chose.”

     He doesn’t need to look to feel the familiar chill of Uraume by his side. They are quiet, eyes downcast, but Sukuna can see the tears glimmering on their cheeks. He places an arm around them, giving their slight shoulders an affectionate squeeze. The shiver that runs through them is one of relief and despair. Sukuna looks away from them, his eyes searching.

     “Looking for her?” Mahito asks, his tone taunting. Sukuna’s crimson gaze cuts to the cursed spirit sharply for a moment, questioning without a word. Mahito wonders how far he can press his luck before Sukuna makes good to kill him once and for all.

     “She passed through here not too long ago, we chatted for a bit,” Mahito places a finger on his lips. “Unfortunately, I don’t think her bosses took kindly to her loitering. She’s mortal now, after all. Can’t be caught holding up the cycle!”

     Sukuna’s expression hardens, and the wheels of his mind turn quickly. Where was she, then? If she passed through this place, then her soul must already be on its way to rebirth.

     Two choices.

     In every lifetime, I will probably love you.

     Sukuna shuts his eyes.

     “I see,” he says quietly. “Then if there is a next time, I think it would be nice to walk a different path.”

     “Do you think you’ll find her?” Mahito asks, grinning his malicious grin. Sukuna does not spare the curse a second glance as he takes Uraume’s hand and begins to walk, toward the darkness, toward the light.

     “You’ve gone soft, old bastard!” Mahito grouses. “Chasing after love! Blegh!”

     Sukuna laughs. “Of course I have,” he says. “I lost, after all.”

     Uraume looks up at Sukuna, a rare breach of their unspoken decorum, a question writ in their lilac gaze.

     “We’ll find her,” Sukuna says. “No matter how many times the Wheel spins, she was made for me. We’ll find her.”

Fin. Masterpost 𑁍 Previous Chapter

Author's Final Note: So, here we are at the end of a journey. I don't know if anyone is out there, silently reading my words and bobbing their head to the playlists, but to everyone putting eyes on this story and ears on the soundtrack: thank you! And to the folks who have been commenting on the chapters, or sharing my stories in the fandom: thank you! What initially began as a thought experiment of "what if Sukuna had a daughter with an immortal" became so much more, and I'd like to thank Gege Akutami for giving us Jujutsu Kaisen. I really haven't been this inspired to write for fandom for almost a decade, and I decided to check out this manga/anime and I've been obsessed ever since. It makes me so happy to write stories in such a fascinating world with such intriguing and fun characters.

Even though the manga is over, I'm holding out for an amazing anime adaptation going forward, and JJK is honestly a classic for me that I know I'll love revisiting it for years to come. I have other fanfic for JJK for those of you who are down to hangout at the Parallax Afterparty where I'll be posting stray stories, scenes that didn't leave the cutting room floor, character studies, and other cool lore that doesn't fit into the fics! Or, if you're really fucking with my galaxy-brain OC x Canon agenda, head on over to Lost Worlds & Endless Nights for the Parallax AUs. Or if you want different leads in other universes, head over to my series Sonder! I don't intend to leave the fandom, so for any holdouts: come get ya fanfic, here, hot off the presses! I'll be churning out these puppies for at least another six months to a year.

Again: thanks for reading. Talk to me in the comments or come holler at me on my other socials [if you got 'em] if you've got questions or wanna yell or whatever.

𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍 Muse 𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍𑁍

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes copying my masterlist format or feeding ANY of my writing to the uninspired AI garbage machines. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐢 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

— Ryomen Sukuna x OC [Hayami]

➷ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : Hayami, whose beauty only the king of course could see.

➷ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : Mention of blood, Sukuna being an ass, not proof readed, 1.8k words.

➷ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : I had a poll asked you guys to choose between two fanfic ideas. Since most of you chose Sukuna so here it is. However I decided to change this fic to a oc story to suit the story more but if you want then you can imagine yourself. Hayami in Japanese means 'rare or unusual beauty'. If you like the chapter then please leave a like, comment and reblong. Follow me for more like this. Enjoy ♡

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Bloodied feets ran over the rough and wet ground as Hayami kept running farther and farther onto forest. The pouring rain not making her job any easier. The wet and heavy fabric of sticking to her scared skin.

Hayami thought wheather she should just give up or keep running. She was far away them. Far into the forest. Surely they won't be able to find her right?

The thick trees parted to a clear area. A shrine standing tall and proud in the middle with high wall surrounding it. Hayami opened the metal gate and ran up to the steps of the shrine in hope of finding help but by the fifth step Hayami was loosing conciousness and by the nineth step Hayami was already falling on the ground unconscious.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Ms? Excuse me?"

Hayami stirred up, blinking her eyes open, she raised her head from the ground. She looked at the person hovering over her and asked still in daze, "What?"

"Are you okay? You were passed out here on the steps." They asked.

"Oh, oh. Yes. Actually I was here looking for work but I blacked out. Do you need someone for cleaning or other stuff maybe?" Hayami lied through teeth. She possibly could not tell the truth to this unknown person.

"Yes, let's go inside." They led Hayami inside the shrine.

Hayami wandered her eyes around the shrine and was surprised to see so many people working there. Girls, women, men, everyone. They were cleaning the shrine, washing clothes, carrying thing. After years Hayami felt hope bubbling in her heart.

"This shrine belongs to Lord Sukuna. Here everyone works for him and in return they get place to stay, food to eat and money for needs. Most here are like you. Came here looking for work." The white haired person said in a monotone voice.

They farther said, "You will work with them. Everyday you will wake up at dawn and start working. Understood?"

Hayami nodded her head in affermation, "Yes, I understand."

Both of came to a stop in front of a door, The white haired turned to Hayami, "This is your room. Get ready and come meet me. Ask anyone for Uraume and they will tell you where I am."

They said before leaving. Hayami opened the door and walk inside. The room was farely big. Inside was three futon folded meaning Hayami would share the room with others. On one side was cupboard. Hayami opened it and saw kimonos folded inside.

Grabbing a black kimono Hayami changed out of her wrinkled and wet kimono. Then she left looking for Uraume. The shrine was big. Last night in the dark Hayami couldn't see very well but at daylight she could see just how big it was. Asking one of the passing by maids Hayami found Uraume standing in the in the garden.

"Uraume-sama?"

"Yes....?" Uraume narrowed their eyes, realising that they don't know her name.

"Hayami."

"Hayami wash this dirty clothes and hang them to dry." Uraume instructed before leaving behind Hayami.

Hayami picked up one the dirty haori and took a look at it. It was big, really big. Hayami could littraly use it as a blanket. At the front some red substance had dried out. Hayami didn't need to be genius to realise what it was.

The gear in her brains were moving and she remembered what Uraume had said to her previously.

'This shrine belongs to Lord Sukuna.'

Air was knocked out of her lungs as she slapped a hand over her mouth. What did she got herself into? Who does not know Ryomen Sukuna?

He was said to be a notorious monster. He wrecks havon only for his amusement, eats human for meals. He, who voids of any mercy. Who destroys anything and everything on his way. Who's name is a curse that people are scared to say it out loud.

But-but everyone here seem to be happy. If he was that bad they would not be working here right? Right. Hayami would just lay low and work like any other worker here. For that she would get a roof to sleep under, food and also salary. All she had to do was stay out the lord's sight.

Gulping down the vomiting feeling Hayami started dropping piece of clothing one after another in the lye water. Hayami's day spent like that. Washing clothes, doing dishes and cleaning the floor. With two breaks in between.

By the time work ended it was already close to midnight. Hayami finally got meet her other two roommates. They were not how Hayami was expecting. Akio and Rika were her two roommates. Akio was easy to approach.

But Rika was not. She gave of supirior energy and like to believe she was above others. Hayami found out that Rika was here even before Akio came and that Akio came here almost four years ago. Rika bosses around over others and whatever task Uraume gives her, she makes others do the task.

No one dares to oppose her because romers has it that she was a favourite of Sukuna. As much as anyone can be. Rika uses that her favour real well. Rika's name got added in Hayami's 'to avoid list'.

Hayami spent almost two weeks successfully avoiding Sukuna. Whenever she heard about him, she ran the other way. But that peace didn't last for long. One evening Uraume ordered Hayami to deliver new set of clothe in his room.

Hayami fiddled with the fabric in her hand as she in front of his room. Running the same sentence again and again and again that 'Knock three times, go in, keep the clothes on the bed and run back. AND KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN.'

Hayami slowly raised her hand and knocked exactly three times but got no answer. She opened the heavy craved door and entered. The room huge. Barely any light entered the room because the black and red cartains, making a dim atmosphere.

There was a stage type with seven steps and on top of it sat a big bed with red and black silk blanket. Hayami resisted every urge to look around and made a bee line to the bed and kept the folded clothes on it. Then as she ran back to the door and tried to open it, in an blink of an eye, she was pinned against the door on her chest.

A pained sound escaped her throat. One hand grabbed the nape of her neck and other pressed against her lower back. Two hands slammed on the door on her both side.

"Who are you?" A gruffed voice growled.

Ryomen Sukuna.

"I'm-I'm Hayami, Lord Sukuna. Uraume-sama instructed me to deliver your clothes." Hayami mumbled breathlessly. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. Is this her end?

In a flash she was now facing the King of Course and her back was now against the wall. A rough hand grabbed her jaw with so much force that she fared her jaw might break.

He tilted her head, "Do you take me for a fool?"

The sharp nails of dug in her flesh. She could feel train blood dropping down from her chin to throat. Hayami squeezed her eyes in pain.

"How can I, a lowly maid, think you as a fool?" Hayami whimpered in pain and unconsciously grabbed his kimono on his chest area.

He ordered, "Open your eyes."

Hayami slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was his board chest. Then travelled her eyes up to meet the four crimson eyes of his. They were glaring down at her. They terrified Hayami, more than them.

When your eyes met something flashed in his eyes but it was gone as soon it appeared. Suddenly jerked away from from her and turned his back on her, "You are dismissed."

Hayami didn't need to be told twice. As soon the words came from him Hayami was already running back to her room.

"O my god! What happened to your face?" Akio gasp once she saw Hayami's bloodied face.

"I don't know. I went to deliver Lord Sukuna's clothes and her suddenly attacked me." Hayami replied. After that Akio didn't inquire farther. His name was enough. She advised Hayami be as far away from him possible. Hayami was still alive was already good enough. Then Akio helped Hayami aiding her wounds.

Later that day deep into the night when everyone was sleeping, in the lord's room stood Uraume in front of Sukuna. Sukuna was taking drags from his kiseru.

"Who came to deliver my clothes today?" Sukuna asked after releasing smoke from his mouth.

"She is a new worker here, Hayami. She came here two weeks ago." Uraume answer in their ever so monotone voice.

Sukuna raised a brow, "Hayami. No surname?"

"No, Lord Sukuna."

"Tell me more about her."

"She came here two weeks ago. She was passed out on the ground. She said that she here looking for work. She does her work well, Lord Sukuna. I found nothing suspicion about here thus far."

"She came looking for work? This far into the forest? Hmm?" Sukuna thought for a few seconds, "You are dismissed. You can leave now."

"Understood, Lord Sukuna." Uraume bowed once and left the lord alone.

Sukuna's brows frowned is conflict. The strong aura he felt earlier was no jock. He almost thought that some strong sorcerer had finally found the balls to come here and kill him. Sukuna was feeling this kind presence of someone strong for weeks but thought it was just Uraume. Today it was too strong.

When he saw her he could not believe that it was coming from her. Sukuna remembered the fear in her eyes. His lips curled upwards at the memory. Sukuna thought to himself—

Hayami, huh? Rare beauty. Let's see how beautiful your strength is.

Please don not copy, reupload or plagiaris my work.

All the rights and credits of Jujutsu Kaisen characters and pictures used belongs to their rightful owners.

➷ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏᴛᴜꜱ : If you want be added to any of my taglist let me in the comments or reblong or inbox.

[bettyblixen11]

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

A/n: I'm not much of a writer on here, I don't post a lot but I really wanna write this so I'm giving it a go :)

Contents: Shibuya incident, jjk spoilers potentially, partial Canon divergence, angst, fluff, Sukuna as a whole, gojo being a simp but he's also incredibly sad.

Anyways enjoy, I hope. ♡

WHEN RPAIN STARTS coming FALLING

---

Incident Report

-

At 7pm, a curtain 400 meters in length appeared over the city of Shibuya, Tokyo. Before the curtain sealed, an unknown figure entered Shibuya and ran into the subway station. For the remainder of the incident that took place in Shibuya, This figure was never caught by another camera or human being again.

-

Sula Gojo was not a violent person in nature. Unlike her partner, Satoru, who's cursed technique of Infinity as well as him being the wielder of the six eyes and limitless technique, made him terrifying to fight against and he carried the power within him with pride.

she did not enjoy a fight. She didn't enjoy watching fights either. So when she told her team she wanted to join them in shibuya, they were shocked. However, despite them telling her she didn't have to do this, they all collectively knew if gojo was going she was going.

Shibuya was silent. A silence like nothing before. Sula could hear only the teams footsteps and a faint wind steadily blowing around the city. As they walked through the square, they stopped suddenly in the crosswalk. Megumi stood beside her on the left and Yuji on her right as they observed a curse crawling down the subway stairs.

Gojo pushed himself between Megumi and Sula. Grabbing his wife's hand, he turns his head to look at her.

"This is where I'm supposed to leave you"

Sula swiftly turned her head with fear. "You don't mean that right?" Her mouth fell agape as tears swelled in her eyes.

Gojo tightened his grip on her hand. "Don't be afraid, you know I'll come back for you".

For the first time in his life, Satoru gojo knew he shouldn't smile but for the sake of his wife, he did. He knew she wanted, no, needed to see it if maybe for the last time.

The plum hue of the Tokyo sky colored shibuya dark purple, a solemn color for a solemn moment. Suddenly Sula had remembered when she lost Suguru, and would not dare lose satoru too.

"You aren't actually leaving me right?!"

Gojos silence was deathly, Sula fell to her knees as she sobbed at the ground. Gojo couldn't bring himself to kneel with her.

Her mouth was still hung open in shock. As tears streamed down her face, Megumi stepped in to kneel beside the distraught woman. Distraught. Upset. In deep anguish. Anything could have been used.

"You will still have us" he didn't smile but he spoke with one "This was always the plan Sula-Sama"

He felt empathetic but once he saw His sensei's face he knew it wasn't his place to go anymore. "We need to move Itadori. There are curses in the Subway tunnels according to Nanamin, he's waiting for us by exit 3"

Yuji nodded sadly. He was eager to fight when they arrived but after seeing the emotion in his two senseis faces, he couldn't feel anything but crippling fear for how this could end for them all.

He leant down to Sula. "We will keep you safe, I promise". Thankfully, yuji could hold a smile on his face.

Yuji stood up beside Megumi as did Sula, who immediately faced her husband, he had his blindfold on still, meaning the emotion she had hoped to see on his blue eyes had failed to show.

"Please don't leave me" she begged him. "Please Satoru, stay" sula clutched satoru's black jacket tightly hoping he wouldn't be able to move.

Gojo put his slender, pale hand on the back of his wife's head and with his other, removed his black blindfold to reveal his glossy and oceanic eyes. If he had been crying under it, he kept it hidden well.

"I can't" Gojo kissed her forehead with tear stained lips and gave her the black fabric with a trembling hand "I don't want to leave you but you know I have to"

He let go of her and turned to Megumi and Yuji. "Itadori-Kun, Fushiguro-Kun. Take care of my wife"

The students nodded. With one final trembling move, Gojo kissed Sula and walked away. The Wife began to cry loudly, her loud and painful sobs rattling the veil.

Gojo walked into one of the buildings and Sula stayed with Megumi and Yuji. He was gone for now. But She couldn't shake the feeling her beloved Satoru Gojo wouldn't return for a long time.

-

8pm: Sula Gojo, Megumi Fushiguro and Yuji Itadori enter Shibuya underground metro.

-

By now it had been an hour since gojo left. Still coming to a calmer state, Sula had taken the position of investigating the dead curses in the Subway. A medium sized lump of a red fleshy substance slumped against the white tiled wall was their first one to look into.

"Rather unappealing aren't they?" Yuji frowned in Disgust.

"They weren't made to be pretty I tell you that" Sula replied as she leant down beside the fleshy curse and poked it gently.

It was completely dead. Hadn't been dead for long however, it was likely killed just as the three of them entered the subway.

"It's been dead only a short time"

Obviously, Megumi had had the same observations.

"That's what I was thinking," sula replied.

Sula stood up with a quiet groan and looked around the place. No other blood marks or any signs of battle were evident. It was entirely spotless, pure white. Except for this one spot.

The dead red mass. A figment of a violent rage.

"We should keep moving" Yuji announced "Nanamin is still waiting for us and we have a long way to walk yet"

Sula and Megumi nodded and the three walked out of exit 9.

-

By the time the three reached exit 7 it was nearing dark. Gojo had been gone for close to 3 hours now and Sula was really starting to worry, so was yuji. The pink haired student kept looking behind him every half an hour to see if the 'curses were behind him' but Sula and even Megumi knew he was looking for Gojo.

The three reached Nanami Kento by 10pm. And that was when Sula had begun to lose it. Of course seeing nanami made her extremely happy, seeing an old friend made the situation just the littlest bit more bright. But gojo still wasn't with her.

"You finally made it" Nanami spoke.

"It would seem like it. It's good to see you Kento, how long have you been in here?"

Nanami shrugged which said everything it needed to. Yuji took a step forward. "You said you needed to meet with us"

"I did. I also needed Gojo-San, is he not with you?" Nanami looked around for a moment and then brought his head back down. "I see he is not close by"

"He split from us at the veil" Megumi spoke.

Nanami inhaled sharply. "Hes already split from you?!"

He was shocked. Sula hadn't seen him so shocked since they were in school. "You look and sound surprised" she noted.

Nanami cleared his throat and fixed his glasses by pushing the middle with his finger. "Yes, well, he wasn't supposed to leave you, Sula-San. Not yet anyways"

Sula furrowed her brows. He wasn't supposed to leave? If he wasn't meant to then where did he go?.

"Where has he gone?" She asked

Nanami shook his head "I do not know, he didn't specify any details. Which brings me to my next concern, do you know why you are actually here?"

"She asked to come with us Nanamin" Yuji entered.

"I am aware itadori-Kun. But that's not why your here" Nanami looked at her "You couldn't say no to him could you?"

By now, yuji and Megumi escpecially were confused. They watched as the two adult sorcerers spoke. Mostly about things they didn't really understand, however they were now both confused as to why gojo had left them if he wasn't supposed to. And why he told them the wrong plan.

"Couldn't Say no to who? Satoru?" Sula questioned.

"Yes" nanami replied quickly.

"I usually don't" sula shrugged "but I don't see how this is relevant, satoru told these two that this was all the plan"

Sula looked at the boys and they were just as confused as she was. "It's true Nanamin, Gojo-Sensei told us that once we entered the veil he would leave us"

Nanami looked at Megumi as he spoke. "Gojo-Sama was only supposed to leave you all when Ryōmen Sukuna awoke"

Yuji gulped. Awoke?!...

"Why would he do that? Isn't he what Sukuna wants?" Yujis voice was shaky, as the vessel for the King of Curses he felt at fault for whatever could come next.

"Because you aren't the only vessel Itadori-Kun"

-

Part two

-

Incident Report

-

At 11pm, an unknown special grade sorcerer arrived in shibuya looking for Satoru Gojo. This unknown sorcerer entered a building on the right hand side as he entered the veil. He didn't return out.

-

Sula tilted her head. "Not the only vessel?" She questioned.

Yuji was terrified. There were other vessels? It worried him to know others were going through what he was but it was oddly comforting top, to know he wasn't alone.

Of course not all of them had THE King of Curses Ryōmen Sukuna possessing them.

"Who's the other vessel? Is it another curse possessing them?" Megumi asked.

Nanami sighed. "I don't know a lot about it yet. Gojo-Sama knows it all. Hence why I hoped he had stayed with you"

Sula hummed in agreement. "Me too", she said quietly.

"We need to know who this other vessel is, what could it be hiding" Yuji was talking half to himself and half to everyone else.

And also partly to sukuna by extension. Cogs began to work in Sula's brain..

"Gojo-Sensei mentioned there was a potential second vessel, however he ruled it out as only a theory. He said not to dwell on it as it was likely not true" Megumi said as he scratched his neck.

Sula held her chin. "Not true?" She said "that might be the first time I've heard Satoru question that something that he said wasn't right" sula chuckled softly.

"Let's keep moving. We are bound to find Gojo-Sama somewhere on the surface" Nanami spoke

As the 4 walked, Sula couldn't and wouldn't shake the feeling that the other vessel was right under their noses. Could it be Megumi? Or Nanami? Or even gojo himself. That sounded impossible as very little spirits came close to satoru and even fewer managed to hurt him.

But she went over every detail anyways.

-

Gojo Satoru had found, what should have been Suguru Geto just in time. His once bestest friend consumed by spite and vengeance, he wasn't himself. The scar on his forehead resembled stitches. Although he looked like Geto, Satoru Gojo knew better than to assume anything before looking into his soul.

"Still the same powerful satoru you were all those years ago" Suguru, or, Kenjaku said in an almost taunting way. His smile like sunshine.

Satoru, tied up, grunted with a scowl. "You do not get to say that!"

"I know you don't see me as Suguru Geto, and I may not be. But I am still your wife's brother let's not forget satoru, we will always be connected. Even now in this new body i still have that bond with you" Geto waved a finger teasingly.

"Bond?!" Gojo thought "pfft. Not with this monster"

Gojo swore once he was free from these confines he would destroy Kenjaku. Burn his world to ashes. But Suguru was still in there.

And in doing that he would burn himself.

"Is she here with you Satoru?" He questioned

"No!" Gojo grunted again. "And if she was you'd have to kill me to reach her. And you won't do that"

Geto smiled. "Your right, I won't. I can seal you instead though"

And just like that the confines that held gojo began to retract and form a small cube of brown fleshy material covered in eyes. Soon the brown turned silver and the eyes turned blue before it fell to the floor.

Satorus power had overthrown it. But it didn't matter now. Because he was sealed. and now nothing could stop Geto from moving forward with his plan.

And sula gojo would never know how her husband disappeared. And that made kenjaku smile.

-

Sula gojo, or back then, Sula Geto ,met Satoru Gojo when she was 22 at Jujutsu tech. He was best friends with her brother Suguru, They didn't make her life easy. Not that they were bullies or mean, but they were strong, and as the strongest sorcerers in the school, even the teachers were afraid of them. it made her realise she would never surpass them no matter how much she tried.

So she let it go. She worked to her own desired level and let her new friend and her brother help her along the way. After 2 or so years, they had all become close. With the introduction of Shoko ieri, they all quickly became tightly knit, and it made suguru and sula closer as siblings, and it was nice to have another female in the group.

But when suguru started falling apart from them, it was Satoru who had noticed first, although he didn't say anything until he felt the need. Sula back then didn't see it, she wished she had. To this day she beat herself up over it.

So did satoru, but he didnt admit it loudly.

-

When the four of them, Nanami, Megumi, yuji and Sula, had reached the edge of the veil once again they knew they were just going in circles. Megumi looked around for anything potentially different but he saw no such thing.

"That's the building Gojo-Sensei went into" Yuji pointed.

"I don't think it wise to hunt gojo-sama down so soon" Nanami spoke. Sula raised her brow.

"Why not? He could be in there still!" She exclaimed.

"I wish he had told you everything" Nanami looked at the ground "because I can't. I can only lead you to where you need to be"

Yuji scratched his head "ehhh, that wouldn't be in the ominous black building covered symbols would it?" He bared his teeth nervously.

Nanami nodded "That's exactly where we're going"

"EH?!" Yujis mouth fell open

"What's in there?" Megumi asked.

"What I can only hope you don't kill me for"

The silence fell. Nanamis words were sinister in tone but also empathetic. Like he knew something was going to happen once we entered inside.

"What are you hiding from us Kento?! Why aren't you telling us anymore about the vessel? Or why I'm here?!" Sula interrogated him harshly, she just wanted answers.

Nanami remained calm. "All I can say is, if you thought Gojo-Sama leaving you was horrible, I truly do pray for you"

And that was the last thing Nanami said for the next 3 hours. The panic set in quickly, yuji was shaking and megumi although hiding it well, was also quite scared. And Sula was beyond afraid, she had reached a level of fear that felt crippling.

There was thankfully no sign of sukuna emerging from yuji anytime soon, but yuji still says things to himself like sukuna is trying to make small talk. Yuji says that when sukuna tries to talk to him he asks for control over his body, which worried Nanami most of all.

"So what's here?" Megumi asked as they reached the second level of the building.

"That" Nanami pointed to a shrine.

It was well lit by red waxed candles and decorated with various flowers and small amulets, pristine symbols were painted in black paint all around it.

"A shrine huh?" Sula fixed Her sleeve and strode toward it, the red candles were enchanting to look at closer up.

"Why is this here though? Surely no one had time to build it when they were evacuating everyone" Megumi looked at Nanami who was equally as confused as Fushiguro.

"They didnt" yuji noted "the shrine was built way before they evacuated shibuya. It looks quite old in fact"

Yuji was right. The shrine was made of red wood, it was chipped and splintering. But who was it a shrine to? There were no pictures of anyone, only the symbols. Other than that there was nothing.

"A shrine to sukuna perhaps?" Megumi thought.

"I don't think so" Nanami said "I think it's dedicated to Kaitori Ryōmen"

Kaitori Ryōmen?! Who the hell is that? Sula, megumi and yuji all let their mouths fall open in shock.

"Who?" Yuji asked

"Kaitori Ryōmen is the Queen of Curses, she existed a long long time ago alongside sukuna himself. She died in a fire during the attack on the Ryōmen clan." Nanami said.

"Sukunas wife..." Sula began to connect the dots one by one.

"So if there's a shrine to Sukunas wife here in shibuya does that mean sukuna himself will come out to find her?" Sula asked anxiously.

"Maybe a fan of the Queen? A dedicated follower praying for her" Megumi added

"Actually..." Yuji says.

Suddenly everyone turnt to face the pink haired student. In the literal blink of an eye, sharp black tattoos began to form on yujis face, and his eyes bled Into red.

Everyone stopped, Megumi and nanami clenched their fists and Sula stayed quiet, not moving an inch.

"You were all so quick to make assumptions" sukuna laughed maniacally.

Sukuna. It was sukuna who spoke now. From the body of the beloved yuji itadori came a deep and ominous voice belonging to the King of Curses.

"What do you want?" Sula scowled.

"Oh"

Sukuna looked around smirking darkly. He looked at nanami, looked at megumi and then at sula who's face was filled with fear. Sukunas face however was wholly terrifying, he bared his teeth in an ominous manner.

"I'm here for you"

[chainsawsangel]

Ryomen Sukuna and Ray Asaka - Living Dead Girl, Jujutsu Kaisen. (ray asaka art done by @leviiackrman)

[ghostedgrim]

The Girl Who Sees Ghosts

Is now up on my Ao3, story starts pre Heian era

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, abuse, underage marriage (not to sukuna tho!), mentions of SA and rape. Cannibalism. Sukuna gets tired of repeatedly killing Grim that he just takes her under his wing.

[angstigone]

💕 Tell me about the latest project you're working on or what you're most excited about creating right now. Send it to as many people as you want. 💕

oh oh this come perfetly in place, as last night I had an idea for a sukuna x oc fic, and I forgot to talk about a nanami x reader one.

(this is all because I am obsessed with the olympics).

sukuna x oc -> retired tennis player murasaki wara hates tennis and after the retirement she has moved in an isolated city to teach math, making friend with local ex-bad guy! sukuna.

all her life changes, tho, when her sister comes to ask her to play the double with her at the olympics.

nanami x reader -> is there anything worse than the anxiety of being left by your olympic ice skating partner at the last minute before the qualifications for the olympics? yes, having to adapt yourself to your new partner, who's devilishly handsome and caring.

thank you for asking and have a lovely day!

[mononijikayu]

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt. 

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires. 

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.” 

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts. 

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features.  His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions. 

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak. 

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one." you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was.  Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

[thatcatsalem]

Sorcerer!Sukuna and his inability to accept that love is not worthless.

Disclaimer: All JJK characters belong to Gege. But Yuri is mine.

Context: You are a cunning sorceress who can manipulate spiders and create webs.

Warnings: sexual scenes, strong language, spiders.

This art work doesn’t belong to me, but if the author would like to be recognized or you know who draw this, please let me know.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was seeing curses since he was a child; parents were worried he was having delusions and he had seeing psychiatrist since he was able to talk. Managed to kill his first weak curse at the age of 6 by slashing it repeatedly. As a teenager he roamed the streets, killing all the curses he could see.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was found by Yaga, and was immediately enrolled into the school. Sorcerer!Sukuna was cagey about his life but wanted his younger half-brother away from Jujutsu.

Sorcerer!Sukuna earned semi-grade one title within a year, when he turned sixteen. Progressed onto Grade One at the age of eighteen.

Sorcerer!Sukuna gotten the tattoos on his face and body as runic protection from mind manipulation of curses. They work.

Sorcerer!Sukuna has destroyed everyone in Kyoto Exchange Event within three hours.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is Ino’s senpai.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is known for his brash and rude behavior, permanent scowl on his face and attitude problems. He will not bow unless he respects someone.

As Yuji joined Jujutsu world at fifteen, sorcerer!Sukuna treats him as rough as you would expect. He is even meaner to Megumi, who he picks on. He finds Nobara annoying and Maki weak, but does not have anything against Inumaki. He always tries to get him to talk.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who could never keep a partner and thinks any notion of love is worthless, eats his words when you come in. Dark and mysterious, with indifferent face and blunt speech that would make Nanami run a mile to catch up.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who immediately wants to make you a conquest but accidentally becomes the conquest himself. Not only are you as cutrhroat as him, you are also known for your unnerving grey morals. And as soon as you decided that Sukuna is worthy of being on the same pedestal as you, you have deemed him suitable enough to be a partner.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who doesn’t understand at first he is being seduced into comfortability, used to coquettish behavior instead. But he is receiving coffee cups with black little spiders drawings that are holding your number, he gets to eat half of your cinnamon roll in the morning briefings, and allows you to pat his cheek as a greeting. Within a month he craves more intimacy than he ever knew he wanted.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who finds the sex mind blowing when he fucks you.

You moan, eyes rolling back, spine curling involuntarily – overwhelmed by his girth, the tight fit, the friction. He rubbed your thighs, a soothing, reassuring sensation. And then another pull and push, pull and push, like the rolling tide of the ocean. Planting your feet firmly on the bed on either side of him, you began to roll your hips, meeting his languid thrusts, even as he continued to hold your waist in both hands, bringing you up and down on his shaft.

"You feel fucking good," he said, an almost strangled noise that was rough and grated with pleasure. “So fucking good."

"Really? Aren’t you lucky,” you said teasingly. His look shifted immediately and you almost laughed at the outrage in his expression, but then he snapped his hips hard and you can feel the tip of him deep within kissing your cervix. You moaned and a dark smirk curled his lips as he leaned forward and planted his fists on either side of your head.

"Did you feel that, you wicked cunt?”

You open her mouth to retort, but he did it again, another sharp, deep thrust that silenced your tongue, leaving nothing but moaning coming from the your lips. He stared defiantly into your eyes as he snapped his hips over and over and over again, as if it strengthened his case, expression daring you to critique him again, even if mockingly.

“Know your place, foolish girl,” he mused.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who is so whipped by good sex, decent food and affection that he immediately attempts to sabotage new relationship. You don’t let him.

“Fucking hell,” he whistles, “you would think this is a date.”

As soon as he said that, he regretted it. You did not falter but a look of gloom trespassed onto your face, quickly hidden behind phlegmatic facade. Sukuna bit his tongue, unsure on what to do. He looked at you, begging for you to diffuse the situation, but you were not in a kind mood today.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask with annoyance in your voice, and turn towards the table, grabbing a bottle of wine. You open it with a knife, bottle popping loudly and cork swiftly caught by one of your bigger spiders that was sat on one of the walls, “Or are you just afraid?...”

“I am not afraid.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Sorcerer!Sukuna who refuses to accept he is in a relationship, but you have other fucking plans.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is seeing red as soon as he notices that you are not paying attention to him.

[annemoriarty]

Riona Nanami and Sukuna Ryomen

[mononijikayu]

IM TRYING (as the world caves in in progress)

i don't WANT to read smut right now

i WANT to read a passionate, poetic, jaw dropping, tears streaking down my face, heart wrenching, giggle inducing, feet kicking, cringy yet amazing, gorgeous story written by someone who apologizes for english not being their first language(they're the best writers ever) which has 4 chapters and then makes me scream because it hasnt been updated in months and the author is mia

[osunism]

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

🔞 Rating: Explicit [MDNI] ❤️‍🔥 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna ⚠️ Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. 🪧 Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi. 🎧 [ godslayer principle ] -- Sundari's Playlist

⚠️ Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

𓃰 Chapter List

᪥ I. Execution

᪥ II. Chrysalis

᪥ III. A Touch of the Divine

᪥ IV. Enchain

᪥ V. Inversion

᪥ VI. Across Your Sky

᪥ VII. Anathema

᪥ VIII. Kyoto Interlude

᪥ IX. The Birthday Party

᪥ X. Throughout Heaven & Earth

᪥ XI. Godslayer

᪥ XII. In Every Lifetime

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes copying my masterlist format or feeding ANY of my writing to the uninspired AI garbage machines. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.