Chapter Text
It had been rather easy, Sukuna often found himself thinking. Ridding his new world of the six-eyed sorcerer. Because for all the man’s brimming confidence and acclaimed strength, the fool simply didn’t have it in his bones to harm his beloved Yuuji when the time called for it. All it had taken was a single whimper from the brat, so sweet and vulnerable – it made Sukuna want to retch, and the man had lowered his infinity instantly. All to lay a warm hand on the child’s bruised cheeks. As if to offer the brat a shred of comfort and solidarity during the final moments of his execution. Assured in the wretched seals their pitiful organisation had chained his vessel with, and completely unaware of Sukuna’s own growing power burning through each bind already weakened by Uraume’s shrewd tampering.
He almost couldn’t blame the fool. Itadori Yuuji made for a rather pathetic sight in his final hours after all, bounded and blindfolded in a dark, wet dungeon like some sort of sacrificial doll. Unable to even wish his friends a final farewell the moment the jujutsu council had become aware of his consumption of the last finger. It was a callous verdict, as heartless as one would expect from an organisation that worked in the shadows. But the six-eyed sorcerer should have honestly known better, seeing as he likely left a similar pile of bodies in his wake with the sheer atrocities he committed on behalf of those elders. But he supposed the brat had a way of charming the men around him, worming his way into their hearts. The slut.
Regardless, a moment of hesitance was all Sukuna had needed, tearing through bone and flesh to burst forth from his host’s body like a monster reborn. He moved quick, efficiently tearing the head of the strongest sorcerer right from his neck before the fool could even process catastrophe before him. After all, Sukuna was astute enough to recognise the threat Gojo Satoru presented to his long-awaited return, as much as it irked his King’s pride to acknowledge so. The man should be honoured. It had been centuries since the curse last took anyone this seriously. Nonetheless, the man went down without a struggle. And in single blow, Sukuna had rid humanity of the only shred of hope they had against him.
It was almost laughable really. How both his vessel and this world’s sorcerers were more bound by their own emotions than the curse they claimed to have chained with their spells. Their almost single-minded desperation to save each other – formed purely out of love and adoration – and that sheer inability to simply let go had ultimately led to their demise at the end. Well, he supposed the old monks always did harp on about the dangers of love for a reason – their whispers of how it was the most twisted of curses still echoing in his ears to this day. Not that Sukuna really gave it much regard, a being…no, a god…so far removed from humanity such as himself had no need for such sentiments.
Rolling his shoulders, he gave the brat one last glance, watching apathetically as the boy twitched in pain at their sudden and violent separation. The young sorcerer had never realised until the very end what exactly he had carried in his frame. A new body for Sukuna, forming and growing in his stomach, waiting for the final pieces to fall in place. And fall into place they did. The will of a king was absolute after all, try as they may to impede his plans.
Though, he could admit that even he hadn’t anticipated the brat surviving the traumatic ordeal. The curse almost released a chuckle, a strange rather uncharacteristic fondness bubbling in his gut. Stubborn until the very end it seemed. His vessel was durable if nothing else. Though he supposed even without his presence in the child’s frail frame, remnants of his power were enough to elevate the healing factor of his ex-vessel – just enough to slowly seal up the bloody and gaping hole in his abdomen. But not enough to save him should he fail to receive the necessary assistance. Assistance Sukuna would not be providing.
He scoffed. Bleeding out alone, cold and afraid was exactly what the infuriating brat deserved, robbed of all his hopes and dreams to pass on surrounded by friends and family. His insolence had been insufferable during their time together, and this would merely be retribution for all the trouble and disrespect the boy had arrogantly hurled his direction. Let him wither away like a worm. A retainer that didn’t properly revere their god deserved none of his mercy. Though he supposed Itadori Yuuji had fulfilled his role well. Sukuna felt more powerful than ever.
Stretching languidly, Sukuna lumbered forward, enjoying the frantic scrambling of the sorcerers above as they rushed to sounds their alarms. The strongest sorcerer had failed they screamed; the King of Curses had returned. He licked his lips. The prospect of fleeing prey never failed to ignite his hunger. Clenching his fist, Sukuna relished in the pure power that surged through his veins as his current form – more reminiscent of the brat in appearance and size – shifted and grew until he easily towered over the tallest of men. A second set of arms burst forth from his sides while a wooden mask sprouted from his skin to cover the right half of his eyes. He smirked. It was time to feast.
--
And just like that, the Golden Era of Curses returned in all its glory, a renaissance guided to realisation by his unmatched strength alone. Without their strongest, the humans simply didn’t have a chance in hell of defeating him. Sukuna easily tore through their organisation the day of the execution, relishing in the fear and agony of countless sorcerers as he snuffed the light from their eyes. They hadn’t even lasted a day.
He moved onto the city next, eager to test his power after centuries of remaining so dormant. And though it was merely a frivolous show of strength, an evaluation of his skill above all else, the Shibuya slaughter had looked like child’s play when he was done with the rest of Tokyo. And with their cities levelled, sorcerers either dead or in hiding, humanity swiftly crumbled.
Predictably, hordes of cursed beings – both weak and strong – emerged from the woodworks with his return, following his trail of destruction and death. It was simple enough to get them in order. They either understood and accepted their position beneath him, or he sent them 6 feet beneath the ground. And though the less intelligent of special grades had been…uncooperative at first – often haughty enough to truly believe they had a chance in usurping his title – they too eventually learnt what it meant to serve a king.
And he didn’t forget to pay Geto – Kenjaku – or whatever wretched curse inhabited that walking meatsuit – a visit as well, ruthlessly crushing the loathsome brain in the palm of his hand like one crushed a can. Sukuna had no need for scheming vermin amongst his followers after all, despite assurances from Kenjaku of their mutual interests. He alone held the privilege to rule the world. And that was all there was to it.
--
His empire rose quickly in the months that passed. But despite what could only be deemed a flawless victory, it didn’t take long for the triumphant King of Curses to grow discontent anyways. He'd always despised dull routine, but yet it seemed his days were almost full of it now, shuffling through an endless cycle of sex, death, and royal duties. And Sukuna had never been one for obligations – a King lived for their whims alone – so more often than not, the curse found himself lazing around his shrine, apathetic to the happenings of the very empire he’d built.
The Special Grades had been quick to offer their services upon noticing his disinterest in his royal court – eager for power and authority in this new sovereignty, but intelligent enough to recognise they could only attain it should Sukuna graciously grant it. Which he did, indifferent to the hierarchical proceedings within his empire as he had been centuries ago. Let the fools struggle amongst themselves over their titles, for what were a few lords to a King, a God.
He was above their trivial affairs. And if it wasn’t a venture that fulfilled the primal urge in him to possess, own and destroy everything within his grasp – not always in that order – then he had no interest for it. Besides, he’d been open about his distaste towards dealing with the masses of common curses in his land from the start, all reverent of their god but utterly unworthy of his time and attention. Their use had come to its end the moment they finished re-constructing his shrine, or should he say palace with how colossal they had built it.
Regardless, Sukuna frequently found himself wondering if he had disposed of his enemies a little too quickly. After all, even with his infuriating personality, surely the six-eyed sorcerer would have at least provided some entertainment within all this monotony. Because while it was amusing at first, dragging men & women kicking and screaming to his bedchambers, executing sorcerers before a public crowd, and subjugating the challenger curses in his land, even Sukuna grew listless without proper opposition to stimulate his mind and his power.
It didn’t help that the sheer silence in his palace often felt uncanny to the restless King…out of place even – whether he be in the throne room or his personal chambers. And though he revelled in the constant fear and muted obedience of those who resided in his abode, the silence was still unfathomably frustrating and distracting, nonetheless. Like things just weren’t right, leaving Sukuna to chase phantoms he couldn’t quite place.
He initially chalked up the ridiculous feelings to the sheer novelty of finally having his own physical form, separate from that of the brat. No longer was he forced to endure the bright, near burning presence of Itadori Yuuji, their souls entwined like shoelace ends. So, it was to be expected to a certain extent, that there would be some dissonance with his new body. Sukuna just hadn’t accounted for the… acclimatisation period …to persist for such lengths. In fact, he should have already adjusted to this new life of solitude yet… the King of Curses increasingly caught himself pausing for a whiny remark or snarky reply whenever conversing with Uraume on the pitiful collapse of mankind. Waiting for a certain voice to fill the void of silence in his domain.
Not that it ever came. He was alone after all, a single soul inhabiting this body and the world around him. Uraume had appointed some maids when he had casually mentioned this sheer absence of life in his personal quarters.
“My apologies, Lord Sukuna. I shall have our finest servants here at once and arrange for further communications with the Special Grades Lords.”
But the presence of servants merely went on to stoke his anger, the company of Special Grades even more so. Their thudding heartbeats, nervous breathing, and honeyed chattering; it all felt like intrusions to him. Disturbances in his domain, unwelcomed and unbearable. The arrangement had quickly returned to normal after Sukuna, in a fit of pure irritation, tore a servant in two – temper triggered by the strange agitation he just couldn’t seem to get under grips. The Special Grades had wisely withdrawn their visits upon hearing of the incident. And he was left alone in his chambers once more.
Alone to contemplate the true nature behind his unrest. Sukuna was far from a fool. He knew what it was that he instinctively sought for, ingrained into him from years of habit, a result of having one’s very being chained to another for so long. But it was a truth he refused to acknowledge, to even consider as a curse – as a King. After all, how unbefitting for one of his stature, to allow such inane desires to disrupt his peace…his composure. He was a King with the world in the palm of his hand. For what purpose was there in lingering on the memories of a bygone vessel?
Yet it seemed even in death, the brat would remain a nuisance at his side. It was almost ironic, really. How he had ignored the irritating child when he was alive, only to find himself seeking his presence in death. It truly didn’t make a lick of sense. And in nature with a King to covet what he could not have, Sukuna only found it increasingly hard to deny the fact that perhaps, he had become rather accustomed to the brat’s loud and abrasive personality in their time together. A delicate balance to his more composed and refined nature.
Thus, it was disconcerting to a degree, to not hear the boy’s senseless rambling echoing throughout his domain and occupying the silence. Always so easily entertained by the smallest of things, and always so easily driven to anger with a well-placed, callous remark. To think he would look back on such memories with sentiment. He must surely be possessed…a part of him made different the moment he woke up attached to the impertinent child. He’d never had these problems in the past before, always at ease with his solitude. It was almost maddening to think that such an insignificant existence had altered his core way of living so deeply, rooting itself into his mind to such an extent. Clearly, he must have been cursed, it was the only explanation.
And he honestly wouldn’t put it past the impudent brat to have infiltrated his reign as a vengeful spirit just to spite him, forever tormenting his mind and palace with reminders of his fleeting existence. A preposterous theory, but one Sukuna was almost beginning to believe with how persistent the matter became. You’d think he’d simply purge these compulsions, seeing as he now knew the basis behind all his problems. But it only fuelled that compulsion to seek out his vessel even further. Almost as if the spiral was worsening now that he had acknowledged the source of his internal strife.
Sukuna knew matters had grown out of hand when it developed to the point of disrupting his day-to-day affairs. Ever the astute one, Uraume had noticed their Lord’s recent dissatisfaction towards everything in general as of late. But the faithful servant had also been wise enough to refrain from remarking on it. Yet even the normally subdued curse had shown visible signs of surprise upon witnessing their King’s strange absent-mindedness.
The pair had taken a stroll through the palace gardens, Sukuna listening half-heartedly as his loyal retainer calmly advised him on the mundane inner working of his cursed court. He had been restless all week despite indulging in the thrill of a good, brutal hunt just a few days prior. And though not exactly the company he desired, the curse was willing to enjoy some peace within the confines of his harem’s tea rooms, built conveniently above the royal gardens.
It was upon crossing the path that bridged to the ceremonial lounges, that a flash of familiar peach pink entered his peripheral, causing the apathetic curse to stop in his path, eyes widening in shock as his whole frame turned to follow the flicker of movement, arm outstretched.
“And the northern regions have harvested- My Lord?” Uraume had queried, pausing midsentence as he realised his King’s attention had long since strayed from his reports.
Sukuna watched unmoving as a young servant made their way across the field, a bundle of silk fabric one could only describe as the brightest shade of peach pink hugged tightly against their body. Their short arms barely kept the fabric above the ground, the longer ends of the sheets fluttering against the wind as the curse hurried to their destination. Sukuna scowled, slowly drawing his arm back to tuck elegantly under his kimono sleeve.
“My Lord…” Uraume chimed, clearly unnerved by his unusual behaviour. “Ahem, the harem had recently requested new materials for their attire. I have approved the request, but shall I pass future appeals to you personally My Lord?” He questioned; head bowed in reverence.
Sukuna scoffed, dismissive of the remark and of the unusual slip-up that had just transpired. Uraume knew better than to mention it.
“I have no time or patience for the affairs of the courtesans.” The curse sneered, mood taking a sudden nose-dive as any interest in seeing the frivolous harlots of his harem – preening in their newly coloured robes and rooms – died along with it. He sauntered past Uraume’s still lowered form, nails digging into closed fists as he fought back the urge to set their gardens a light.
“Bring the finest sake we have to my room. I’m in no mood for company.” He muttered stiffly, storming his way back to his personal quarters.
--
The incident with the servant had been vexing to say the least. To think he, the King of Curses, had believed – if even just for a split second – that it had been the brat dashing boldly across his palace grounds. It was senseless, laughable even. Foolishness unbecoming of his title. Itadori Yuuji was gone, simply a decaying corpse rotting away beneath the dungeon Sukuna had abandoned him in the moment he was freed. He was dead. If only his ghost would just perish alongside with him snarked Sukuna.
But nonetheless, if there were to be some respite from this incessant reflection on the brat, it would be the fact his mind had found a completely new line of thought to latch on to upon reaffirming his death. He wondered how much of the boy even remained nowadays? Had the maggots completely stripped him of all skin and flesh, leaving behind only a pile of bones as echoes of his worthless existence? He smirked. His skull would certainly make a lovely ornament Sukuna mused.
And though it was a simple and fleeting quip at first, the more he lingered on the idea, the more the urge to go retrieve aforementioned skull grew. He had refrained at first, annoyed at the sheer notion of someone of his status stepping foot into some dingy sorcerer’s premises – all for the remains of an insignificant human that had already fulfilled his purpose in Sukuna’s plans as well. But when he envisioned how lovely an ornament the brat’s skull would make mounted on his bedside – like a trophy of some sorts – Sukuna’s feet had moved ahead on their own.
“I’m leaving, Uraume.” He scowled, pulling up his kimono to saunter coolly from the throne room.
“Yes, My Lord.” The servant replied, faithfully shadowing him without a need to be called.
Well, no matter. A king lived for his whims, and his whims alone. That was simply the privilege of absolute power. If he wished to go collect what remained of the brat, then who was he – or anyone really – to question that. It would certainly shine some entertainment onto his rather bleak week at least. Which was why it was truly, such a shame, that there lay no corpse – or any sign of his ex-vessel – when he returned to the dungeon of execution. Only a puddle of old, dried blood staining the dirtied grounds.
He stood for what felt like hours in that dirty dungeon, processing the fact. For the first time in a long time, the King of Curses was truly caught off guard, unsure of how to feel when so abruptly denied of what he wanted. It was almost amusing – humorous even – if not for the fact the very compulsion that had led him to this point would remain regrettably unfulfilled. For how exactly was one supposed to satisfy their recent fixations when the source of said fixations were to suddenly vanish?
Sukuna turned, facing the stairs that led to the exit. He wasn’t sure what expression he wore, but Uraume visibly flinched at the sight of it, bowing lowly as the King of Curses sauntered pass and up the steps. It should have been impossible for the boy to have survived. Not with the injuries he had been sporting. Even if the child had miraculously crawled to his freedom, Sukuna had spared not a single soul in that facility to have provided the medical assistance he so desperately needed.
Not that it mattered. None of this mattered. The fact he had even come here in the first place was a joke. How laughable, that the King of Curses would waste his time in pursuit of such non-sensical entertainment, all because of some odd impulses. But it was fine. It did not matter that the brat – and all which remained of him – was gone. Not at all. That was the goal after all wasn’t it, to rid himself of that nuisance the moment he was free. And had he not confirmed just that?
But as he returned to his shrine, partaking in the comforts of his lounge and a banquet of delicacies, Sukuna couldn’t quite brush off that hollow feeling in his chest as he filled another cup to the brim with sake. The curse swallowed, lips pursing. Perhaps the alcohol would relieve him of these useless sentiments.
--
The alcohol did not help. Nor did his harems, or even the act of killing those unfortunate enough to get in his way. Since the curse had investigated the remnants of his ex-vessel’s resting place only to find him missing, he couldn’t quite get the mystery of the brat’s disappearance off his mind. Surely…surely the boy had not survived. The chances of it were practically non-existent. But that didn’t stop Sukuna from appraising the scenarios nonetheless, even as he entertained guests in his banquet hall. Uraume had insisted these gatherings as a means to raise morale and loyalty, not that Sukuna really cared. But he acknowledged the intelligence of his most faithful follower enough to humour the request.
His attention easily strayed however, bored eyes wandering to a nearby window as a foxy Special Grade chattered at his side, eager to please their lord. They had gifted him the finest wine in the land, an offering Sukuna was enjoying considerably, golden chalice filled to the brim in his hand. He sipped. Was Itadori Yuuji truly out there somewhere? Had the frightened child dragged himself from the dungeon only to be met with piles of slaughtered sorcerers? Did he cry? Did he scream? It must have been simply delectable. The brat did have an undeniably lovely face despite all his insolence, easy on the eyes even as scars gradually littered his appearance.
It was always particularly sweet, caging the trembling boy under his broader frame. A rough grip on his plump face – Sukuna forcing him to look on in tears as he corroded his precious dreams, slaughtering the annoying pests he surrounded himself with in visions of death and torture. For such an ungraceful fool, his vessel strangely excelled in spurring on his ravenous nature as the King of Curses, more so than any of his whorish harems or reverent followers.
If he was truly alive, his fate must not have been pleasant then. Too weak to properly fend for himself, had the brat been found by the many curses roaming the lands? Did they torture him cruelly before devouring his very blood and flesh? Or…his eyes wandered to the end of the banquet hall, to the hefty boar-like Special Grade infamous for the human farms he ran. Had the boy been unfortunate enough to land himself in the grasps of a human trafficker? They had been becoming more common as of recent, once the more intelligent curses realised the entertainment value in keeping humans around as livestock rather than simply slaughtering them indiscriminately. It was quite the creative endeavour in Sukuna’s opinion, having witnessed the inner workings of those farms himself, entertained by the gruesome ways they tortured and experimented on the humans held captive there. It would certainly make sense for the brat to end up in such a place he mused, suddenly curious to tour the newer venues once more.
A panicked squeak pulls Sukuna from his thoughts, irritated eyes falling back onto the piggish curse as the beast dragged a whimpering but acquiescent servant onto his lap – nibbling at her ear. How vulgar a sight. Perhaps this had been the brat’s fate? Taken in as a personal slave to be used as nothing more than a whore for the insatiable lust of his master. Silently, Sukuna’s grip on the chalice tightened, eyes narrowing as the moronic bovine’s presence – his existence – suddenly grew all the more insufferable to the curse.
The brat always did draw the most lecherous of attention to himself he thought as he observed the pair before him, and Sukuna wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in the laps of the many perverse Special Grades that paraded the lands, a dirty hole to be used and abused. It was fitting for the brat he supposed, suitable in fact, with how easily he used to share his affections. Regardless, it didn’t stop the surge of irritation that ran through his frame at the ridiculous thought. Because though the brat may have been a disposable vessel at best, practically a sacrifice, he was still his. Sukuna’s little human. His to own and his to possess both in life and death. And if anyone were to partake in the offerings of his body, it would be his king, not some wretched, nameless –
Crack!
“My Lord!” yelped the curse by his side, scrambling back in panic as Sukuna slowly raised his arm, taking in the red wine that now dripped down his wrist, staining his sleeves a light red. The chalice he had been drinking from lay shattered on the ground, destroyed by the sheer strength in his grip. Sukuna could only watch the liquid drip down his skin apathetically, almost confused at how things had ended up in this state. Did his hold on the chalice really tighten to that extent whilst he was lost in his ruminations? It was an uncommon lapse in his control for sure, and only served to further rile his temper once he realised who and what this slip-up revolved around.
“My Lord!” cried Uraume, rushing to his side before abruptly stopping when Sukuna raised a clawed hand.
“You.” He growled, pointing at the blithering fool of a hog he had been forced to tolerate the past hour. At his words, the room once filled with the sound of rambunctious partygoers swiftly fell silent, the fear of every curse present practically permeating the air. The aforementioned boar immediately stood to attention; hand clasped at his front in an attempt to stop the trembles racking his frame. The servant he had been manhandling was thrown to the floor; head lowered as if it would help her hide from Sukuna’s ire.
How pathetic. Would the brat have been so subservient? Allowing the hands of these worthless, lowly vermin to roam over his body, marking his flesh and smothering his scent with their own. Sukuna snarled. Even in death, the brat was his. And just the idea that he would concede to such actions ignited an anger in the king so potent it flooded the surrounding area with pure killing intent – forcing every being in the room to drop to their knees.
“My Lord, I-I-“
Well now, if he couldn’t take out his searing irritation towards that thrice cursed brat here, then the snivelling, disgusting pig in front of him would just have to do.
--
The Special Grades had taken to walking on eggshells after that incident. Word spread quickly after all in his high court, both the cursed lords and servants prone to incessant gossiping when it came to the inner happenings of the palace. One factor remained consistent in their chattering this time however, and that was the sheer mystery behind the King’s rampant displeasure nowadays. Sukuna had always been known for his rather…vicious disposition…but unless provoked by insolence or bloodthirst, the curse remained generally indifferent to the weaklings surrounding him – if they stayed clear of his path that is. Yet a Special Grade had ended up a lump of carved flesh for no particular reason. And it was alarming for those who served the King, ignorant of the cause but desperate to avoid the same fate as their fellow brethren.
It explained the grandeur of their offerings in the latest court hearing he supposed. The custom had initially begun as a means of asserting his authority within his new reign – gathering those who served him to earn his favour through their finest tributes and performances. And it was usually quite the enjoyable display too, but today’s affairs did little to stave Sukuna’s irritation. Four decapitated head lay at his feet as the assembled curses stumbled over themselves to present an offering that could appease their King – tension mounting in his throne room the longer things went on without a hint of success.
“This is the best you have to offer your King?” He questioned, voice smooth as silk, though not a single soul failed to notice the underlying anger in his tone. “You must think so lowly of me. Is that it? You dare to look down on your king?”
“No, my lord!” chorused the masses, heads bent so low their faces practically kissed the ground.
Uraume – his ever-fretting servant – stepped forward to wave a hand, signalling the next curse to come forth with their gift. The poor lad had been desperate to placate his violent temper for weeks, worried the number of staff would dwindle even further should his king continue to behead any servant that crossed him. And though his expression remained outwardly composed, Sukuna could easily see the panic and confusion in Uraume’s eyes at the uncertainty behind his foul mood.
“My lord.” A smooth voice called out, rather reminiscent to the stitched bastard his vessel despised so deeply that his eyes instinctively flickered forward with a scowl. The being that stood in front of him, thankfully… for the curse at least… did not resemble their voice-sake. One of the more human looking curses, they sported dark purple hair and face paint that almost resembled a jester. Their status as a Special Grade was easily discernible through the sheer grace at which they carried themselves, even as they bowed at his feet.
“Straight from my farm, I present only the best of livestock for my King’s pleasure.” They stated, tugging roughly at a chain that dragged forth a line of four humans – all bare as the day they were born, quivering and crying in fear at the leers and hoots thrown their way.
Sukuna studied the first body amongst the sacrifices, chin resting on a closed fist as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. The humans offered were certainly the curse’s best – of that he had no doubt – each undeniably pleasing to gaze upon. But he had no need for new additions to his harem, and thus this was simply another useless tribute that suggested he didn’t already hoard the most beautiful for his entertainment.
The King of Curses raised a hand, keen to lop off the fool’s head and proceed along, but the sight of the last human in line had him pausing, eyebrows raised. It was a young woman, with hair a most peculiar – familiar – shade of pink. The girl quivered, eyes averting once she realised just whose attention she had garnered, not that it deterred Sukuna and his inspection of her form in any way. She was petite he noted, just like the br-
“My Lord?” piqued the Special Grade. “Is there one that has caught your eye?” He would have normally grinded the bone of any curse that would dare to interrupt him, but feeling suddenly generous, he merely gestured at the aforementioned girl.
“The pink one.” He commanded lazily. “Bring her forward.”
With a nod of his head, the Special Grade signalled his smaller and much weaker assistant to undo the lock that kept the human in line with the rest, dragging the whimpering girl forward harshly to bow just a few steps short of his throne.
“My Lord.” It murmured, eyes not once gazing up from the ground. A smart one then. Ignoring the address, Sukuna leaned forward from his throne, grabbing a lock of the girl’s long pink hair to toy with between his fingers. How quaint. His mind wandered to the many times he would grab such familiar pink tresses, yanking the brat by his hair to throw across his domain whenever the fool had gotten too boisterous for the day. He smirked, the sudden upturn in his disposition followed by palpable relief from all those who were present. The shift in tension was felt clear across the room.
“Hmph. Uraume, take this one and ready them for the night.” He ordered, the young lad bowing as he moved to fulfill his demands, leading the human away by her chain. As his servant turned to gather the rest, Sukuna waved a hand, stopping Uraume in his tracks.
“Not necessary.” He drawled, a deranged grin forming on his face. “The rest are nothing of worth. Do with them what you see fit.” The Special Grade that had remained rather silent in the past few minutes walked forth.
“I am honoured the King has accepted my humble offering. His selection is as flawless as ever.” He praised, muscles flexing as he tightened his grip on the chain in hand. “Then I beg your pardon.” With a strong yank, he swung the remaining three humans into the crowd of curses. Their screams of fear and pain echoing across the room as the rabid curses tore into their flesh, each fighting for a piece to devour.
Sukuna laughed, thoroughly entertained by the display. Ah, perhaps holding court was not for naught.
--
When Uraume finally finished handing off their newly acquired human pet to the servants – leaving them with strict instructions for preparation – the court session had long since finished. The cursed crowds – at least those of them who mattered – had moved to the main banquet hall, partaking in an extravagant feast likely ordered by Lord Sukuna himself. The King of Curses could be rather generous after all, with how he rewarded his followers when they managed to please him with their actions. It seemed their new human pet had done more to his Lord’s mood than Uraume had expected.
Heavy chains in hand, the servant scoured the room for the original owner of the item, spotting the jester-like curse seated comfortably a few tables away from the main table housing his Lord. Interesting. Not many could resist the temptation of earning further favour with their King, especially if an offering had been well-received. Though he supposed the attention of their Lord came with both its benefits and setbacks, one just had to determine how far they were willing to risk their King’s unstable temperament in pursuit of power. Drawing closer, Uraume stiffened as he caught snippets of the ongoing conversation between the gathered curses.
“Ahhhh. That was seriously the worst!” Droned a round, orange curse. A ball on legs he thought. “I heard his highness has been in an awfully foul mood lately, but I didn’t expect it to be any different from his usual bad temper until today. Sheesh! I nearly fainted three times in there!”
The addressed Special Grade merely chuckled, as if all their lives hadn’t been in danger just hours ago, taking a long sip from his wine glass.
“I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come forth with your livestock.” Commented another curse. “I wouldn’t put it pass the king to slaughter every last being in that room with how royally pissed off he seemed.”
And Uraume had to agree. He too had been nervous of an impending bloodbath with how Lord Sukuna had been frowning. Not just during court, but throughout the past weeks as well.
“I’m merely grateful our King had graciously accepted my humble tribute.” Expressed the jester, avoidant of the high praise thrown his way. Though seemingly unwilling to drop the topic, another curse piqued in enthusiastically.
“But who knew the king had a thing for pinkies?” They leered, taking a large bite of the meat in their grasp, swallowing noisily. “Had I known, I would have brought him thousands of them already!”
Uraume would have snorted if not for his composed nature. Not quite pinkies he couldn’t help but think. But rather, a specific pink head, mind wondering to the previous vessel of his Lord. Itadori Yuuji. Ever since they’d gone to inspect the final resting place of the boy only to find him gone, Lord Sukuna just simply hadn’t been the same. His master’s displeasure had only become increasingly difficult to appease, much to his distress. But Uraume was not foolish enough to think himself worthy of questioning his King’s motives, let alone seeking the reason behind his actions.
But it didn’t take much to connect the dots however. Clearly, whatever unfinished business Lord Sukuna had with his ex-vessel was enough to affect his mood. Uraume sighed. Even in the afterlife, the silly child still managed to create problems left and right for the curse to resolve. Perhaps this new human, suspiciously reminiscent to the young Itadori if one were to ask him, would be sufficient in quelling whatever craving burned inside his Lord.
--
The night fell quickly with the proceedings of the banquet; and soon Sukuna was sauntering back to his chambers – just the slightest bit inebriated. The sake had been particularly fine this time. Shouldering open the doors to his room, the curse stilled when he caught sight of the shivering body dolled up on his silk sheets. Even under the influence of alcohol, his mind immediately latched onto the sight of pink – pink tresses of hair to be specific – a lovely shade of peach. How charming he mused, a surge of familiar fondness bubbling in his gut as the tell-tale signs of lust overtook his thoughts. Slowly, the curse unfastened his kimono, allowing the robe to hit the floor as his sculpted form stood bare before the bed. Like a predator stalking its prey, his gaze did not waver in the slightest from the figure – from that distracting pink – even as he closed the distance between them with long strides.
“Come here.” Sukuna murmured once he reached the edge of the mattress, voice deceitfully soft. Though hesitant at first, with no real choice in the matter, the girl quickly crawled to his side as eager hands moved to caress her pink locks. Pulling her close, he touched the soft strands gently before shifting their heads to meet, lips locking in a fervent kiss. As they tumbled further into the bed, Sukuna’s mouth moved to nibble on her neck, feeling the girl relax against his body before she released a small moan. Whether in pain or pleasure, it didn’t really matter. Because the moment he heard the crying voice, so soft and delicate in tone, his intoxicated mind couldn’t help but concentrate on how utterly wrong it sounded. Just the slightest bit too high in pitch and not quite as sweet.
And like an illusion disrupted, her skin felt too smooth underneath his palms, absent of the scars and wounds he loved to re-open every chance he got. And her body, too plump without the firm muscles he was so used to gripping and pinning beneath his frame. No, it was all wrong. Without warning, he gripped the slave by her neck, throwing her roughly off his bed with a frustrated snarl. The anger he’d tried so hard to quell the past month returned more potent than ever, his power exploding throughout the room.
“Remove yourself from my sight this instant you sow!” he roared. “Before I make you a stain on my floor.”
Bleeding and frightened, the girl was smart nonetheless, swift in scrambling off the floor and out his door, sobbing all the while. Gripping his forehead and focusing his remaining energy on reining in his temper, Sukuna slumped onto the mattress – willing his body to sleep despite the lust that still ran throughout his veins. His needs would not be met tonight it seemed.
--
A few days passed, and if the residents of the palace believed he had been in a foul mood before, he was outright malicious following the incident with the slave. With his mind free from the influences of alcohol, the events that transpired that night – and more importantly, the implications that came with it – were made clearer to the curse. Which was unpleasing to say the least. Because what kind of King lusted after a worthless little human? Lusted after Itadori Yuuji? The ever-insolent brat. Surely, he must have gone mad from having to endure months of sheer boredom.
That was the only reasonable explanation as to why his brain suddenly decided it was a good idea to evoke his memories of a bygone vessel time and time again. It wasn’t like he missed the little brat. No, he rather enjoyed the freedom that came with possessing his own body. So then why? Why did he want to wrangle that stupid boy into his clutches to such a degree, whether he be dead or alive? He couldn’t begin to explain the odd impulse at all.
But did he really need a reason even, to want what was his back in his grasp – whether it be to bed or to torture. Because there was no disputing it, Itadori Yuuji belonged to him, and his disappearance practically amounted to stealing from Sukuna. And he wasn’t one to take thievery lightly. No, he justified, it wasn’t too farfetched for a King to eye what was already theirs. And any man or curse would want what was theirs returned should it go missing. Regardless, there was no trace of the boy anywhere, and he was left to mull on the brat’s whereabouts bitterly.
Which was why it was surprising, that the next mention of Itadori Yuuji did not come from the depths of his obsessive mind, but rather the lips of a gossiping maid instead. The servants had taken to avoiding him as of late – fearful that the slightest error would end with their heads rolling – but he’d happen to overhear their murmurings nonetheless, eyes narrowing as he paused on his ways to the hot springs.
“Did you hear? They said Lord Hide’s farm was broken into, and the human slaves freed!” spoke a maid, tone hushed. “Sorcerers?” whispered another. “Surely not! Lord Sukuna has scourged the vermin from our lands!”
“They were humans though! Capable of jujutsu! Otherwise, it would have been impossible to pull off what they did.” Argued another. “I heard they even lasted in a fight against the lord before they fled with the livestock.”
“Yes, Lord Hide was quite furious if I recall what the gatekeepers said correctly…” muttered the initial voice, as if digging into her memories for any scraps of information it could spare. “And embarrassed!” chortled the other two. “Hmm, I think he’s got a team of bounty hunters searching for a boy with wolves, and another with pink hair.”
And that was all the curse needed to hear. At the mention of canine beasts and a head of pink hair, Sukuna revealed himself to the servants, harshly grabbing the perpetrating maid by her apron and bringing her close.
“Repeat what you just said!” He growled, shaking the servant roughly. “I’m sorry, my Lord!” begged the maid, the others chiming in for his forgiveness as they grovelled at his feet. “Ple-please forgive me! I-I-!”
At any other time, he would have found their inability to speak, their fear, delicious. But seeing as he needed them to spit out any further information they were hoarding, his anger only grew the longer they stuttered around.
“I said repeat your words! About those insurgents!” he snarled, irritation coating his voice. “Before I rip that tongue of yours right out!”
“Ah-ah, Lord Hide had been attacked recently. He tried to keep news of it concealed my Lord, because the raid had been led by a small group of humans! They say 2 sorcerers, one with wolves, and another with pink hair and scars littering his face distracted Lord Hide as the rest gathered what able-bodied livestock there was and fled!” Stammered the maid, clearly in a hurry to provide the information Sukuna so eagerly sought in hopes he would leave them be.
But ah, those last two descriptions. It couldn’t be a coincidence. A boy with wolves and a pink-haired human. He released the maid, moving to step back as he processed the details. There were only so many people that fit such specific descriptions who could wield jujutsu. How interesting. He never gave much thought to the Fushiguro boy once he’d fulfilled his role in Sukuna’s unsealing, but he’d assumed the little sorcerer died alongside the rest of their kind. Not that he struck him down himself. The child never did show up to the brat’s execution as he initially expected. Perhaps unable to stomach his own helplessness and inability to save a friend that mattered dearly to him.
Still, the teen had survived. And more importantly, he had something of Sukuna’s with him. Itadori Yuuji. If the news from the heist was true, then his brat was as resilient as ever. Back on his feet wreaking havoc among Sukuna’s Special Grades. He chuckled, a quiet sound at first that had all the maids stilling, before throwing his head back to cackle loudly.
Of course. Of course. He should have known better. The brat was far too stubborn to have died. Or to have hidden away for the rest of his life. The head-strong little thing. Storming past the maids – he was generous enough to leave them with their lives, since their mundane chattering had imparted him with such valuable information – Sukuna made his way to his office, a plan already formulating in his head.
He couldn’t allow his little vessel to go causing trouble in his new empire after all. The silly little thing.