[cncbunsi]

the abandoned train station was crawling with curses stronger than expected, and your technique was burning through your energy too quickly. your breathing became uneven as another spirit lunged toward you.

you barely had time to react before it exploded into black ash.

silence filled the station.

then footsteps echoed behind you.

dabura stood there with one hand lazily in his pocket, dark pants splattered with curse blood. his expression looked almost bored.

“you’re sloppy,” he said.

you stared at him. “i was handling it.”

“you were about to die.”

his voice wasn’t mocking exactly. just blunt.

still, your pride flared. “i didn’t ask for help.”

“and yet you needed it.”

before you could argue again, dabura started walking away.

“wait,” you called. “you’re just leaving?”

he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “can you walk?”

“…yes.”

“then keep up.”

[cncbunsi]

the night air in the heian era was thick with incense and something far older—fear, maybe, or reverence. no one ever quite knew which when it came to ryōmen sukuna.

inside the estate, though, it was quiet.

not the eerie, suffocating quiet people whispered about in villages. this was softer. warmer.

a child laughed.

sukuna sat cross-legged near the open veranda, four arms at ease for once, watching as his youngest stumbled across the wooden floor. the child was small—too small to carry the weight of what ran in her blood—but stubborn enough to try anyway.

“again,” sukuna said, voice low, almost amused.

the toddler huffed, pushing herself upright with a wobble. behind her, another child—older, sharper-eyed—leaned against a pillar, unimpressed.

“shes going to fall,” the older one muttered.

“shes going to learn,” sukuna replied.

that was how he taught everything.

a soft rustle of fabric interrupted the moment. you stepped into the room, sleeves brushing the floor, gaze flicking between your children and your husband.

“they should be asleep,” you said.

“they were,” sukuna answered without looking at you.

the toddler promptly proved your point by tripping and landing face-first.

you sighed.

sukuna didn’t move immediately. he watched—waited—until his daughter pushed up on her own, lip trembling but not crying. only then did one of his hands reach forward, steadying her.

you crossed your arms. “you’re impossible.”

now he looked at you.

even after all this time, that gaze still carried the same weight it did the day you met him—ancient, dangerous, inhuman. but there was something else now, too. something quieter.

something that belonged only to this place.

a faint smirk tugged at one of his mouths.

“yet you stay.”

you stepped closer, gently lifting the youngest into your arms. she clung to you immediately, burying her face in your shoulder.

“because someone has to make sure you don’t raise monsters.”

sukuna let out a low chuckle.

“too late for that.”

you shot him a look.

he ignored it, rising to his full height. the room seemed to shift with the motion, shadows stretching instinctively toward him.

but when his oldest son reached out with a tiny hand, he caught it without hesitation.

four arms, built for destruction, holding something small and fragile like it actually mattered.

“then they will be unstoppable,” sukuna said.

the toddler giggled, the older child rolled his eyes, and somewhere in the distance, the night carried on as it always had.

but inside the estate, for once, sukuna wasn’t a curse feared by the world.

he was just a father.

[cncbunsi]

ryōmen sukuna sat in his room staring at nothing in particular.

suddenly, his child tugged at his sleeve—well, one of them considering he had four.

“papa.”

sukuna didn’t look up immediately. he was slumped lazily on his tatami mat, one leg stretched out, the other bent, long fingers drumming against polished, glossy wood flooring. the late afternoon sun cast sharp shadows across his body, highlighting the dark ink-like markings that sat atop his skin.

”speak,” he said flatly.

the child huffed, small hands planted on his hips. “you said you would train me today.”

a pause.

then, slowly, sukuna’s lower right hand reached down and flicked the child’s forehead.

“impatience is weakness.”

your son, now holding his now aching forehead he stated, “it’s been three days.”

“that is nothing.”

“to you,” the child muttered.

that earned them a look—two sets of eyes narrowing slightly. dangerous. heavy. dark.

then both his mouths curled, just barely.

“bold.”

the child didn’t flinch. didn’t bow. didn’t apologize. just glared at his father.

sukuna found that, amusing. like something he’d recognized. he looked down at his son but what he saw wasn’t truly his son. he saw a mirror image of you— his stubborn and determined wife.

you watched from the doorway, arms folded into your sleeves.

“are you going to keep tormenting him,” you asked calmly, “or actually follow through on your promise?”

“stop undermining my parenting. im trying to teach him a lesson,” sukuna growled, scowling at you.

“ive did nothing of such. just asked a question.” you say fully relaxed, shrugging.

sukuna clicked his tongue.

for a moment, the air shifted—heavy, charged. the kind of tension that had made grown men collapse under its weight.

but you didn’t move.

didn’t bow.

didn’t break eye contact.

after all, you were the only one who had ever spoken to him like this and lived.

then sukuna exhaled sharply through his nose, pushing himself to stand.

“fine.”

[cncbunsi]

ryōmen sukuna was anything but normal husband; i mean he was the king of curses.

everyone knew that. even you.

but the one thing that you never failed acknowledge was that he tried his best.

he was dangerous, powerful, intimidating and everything in between— but somehow, he was also the one standing in your kitchen at midnight, holding a tiny cup of warm milk while your toddler refused to sleep.

“this child is testing me,” he muttered, glaring down at your son.

your son just giggled, taking large father’s unpliable scowl as an invitation to start climbing upon his large frame.

you leaned against the doorway, allowing yourself a small smirk. “you’ve destroyed special grade sorcerers without blinking, but your weakness is a five-month old child? that five-month old child being your son of all people.”

sukuna clicked his tongue. “he is loud. and stubborn.”

“he got that from you.” you shoot back, raising your eyebrow.

sukuna shot you a look, but there was no real anger in it— he knew you were right, and that he wouldn’t dare to argue with you.

[cncbunsi]

ryōmen sukuna sat atop his throne, his four eyes fixed on the horizon of his dark palace. he was a creature of sheer power, yet for the first time in a thousand years, he found himself waiting.

when you stepped into the shallow water of his shrine, the splash didn't sound like a trespass; it sounded like an invitation. in invitation in which sukuna just couldn’t pass up.

in a split second, he was barley an inch away from you; constructed of pure muscle and raw strength that came from centuries of experience. any normal person in such situation wouldn’t be brave enough to face him. but you didnt back down.

you stood your ground, not bothering to cower away like hundreds of other sorcerers had done faced by the king of curses. he sensed the clear lack of cursed energy radiating from your body— all four of his crimson red eyes scanned over your body like a predator; evaluating his next move, cold and calculating in its intensity.

“my lord, your child.” you hold out the oddly large infant, its attributes perfectly identical to the large curse facing you. “he is teething and i wish not to deal with such bother.”

he looked down to what you held in your hands, instinctively making a sneer in spite of himself and the, ‘brat’ in which he called it, looking frankly indistinguishable.

“and so i thought you came to give your husband the time of day. i must’ve been awfully mistaken.”