❛ ִ i had different paths i could have traversed. and yet. i couldn't help but spit out the curses stirring deep within my viscera. i feared my own curse would immolate me. should there be a next time, perhaps it would be nice to walk a different path. ──── 両面宿儺. 𝒞𝚑𝚊𝚙. 𝟐𝟕𝟏
𝓡ecently, ──── AGENT .ᐟ SUKUNA x MISSION COORDINATOR .ᐟ READER resident evil au, which you returned to after years of haunting him, (did you though?)
enjoy this little unckuna snippet in the upcoming oneshot ❤️
“es’cuse me?”
You feel a little tug at your shorts and look down to find an incredibly worried Yuji, who honestly should’ve gone to an adult he knew, but here he was, deciding you were the trusted adult for the time being.
“What’s wrong?” You crouch down, getting at eye level. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He shakes his head, pointing to his shoes. “I donno how to tie my shoes.”
“You don’t?” you continue to act just as concerned. “Do you want me to tie them for you?”
“Yes, please.”
Your heart melts at his little voice. “Aw, okay.”
Like any other kid, Yuji’s amazed at how fast adults can tie shoelaces, unable to keep up with the strings crossing and looping around each other to create the little bow at the end.
“Yay!” He claps his hands, jumping in excitement. “We can play again, Gumi!”
Megumi thinks to start celebrating with his friend, but closes his mouth right after opening it.
Then you’re startled by a scoff made directly behind you. “You bother a stranger to tie your shoes and you can’t even say thank you?”
The last to freeze is Yuji, who side-eyes him, rather than turning to face him. “Um.. ya I did..”
“No you didn’t?!” Sukuna starts to argue with the three year old. “I watched you lie about not knowing how to tie your shoes and then I watched you try to run off without even thanking her.”
“I donno how to tie my shoe!” Yuji stomps a foot on the ground to prove whatever point he thought he was making.
“Yes, you do— now say thank you before I take your shoes away.”
“Oh no, not my shoes!”
“Yes.” Sukuna’s clearly enjoying this. “You’re a big boy now, remember? You don’t need shoes.”
“Yes I do!”
“Alright, then have some manners and say thank you.”
“Thank you for tying my shoe,” Yuji frantically says to you, then turns to his uncle and starts whimpering. “Don’t eat my shoes, Unkakuna! I need them!”
Sukuna’s even more annoyed now at how specific that was. “Who said I was gonna eat them?!”
“I dunno! You eat everything!” Yuji claims, bottom lip quivering and all, making his uncle's eye twitch in disbelief. “It’s all stuck in your big belly.”
Sukuna’s face drops, as if he didn’t see a 6-pack in the mirror this morning with his own eyes.
“I don't have a goddamn belly,” he scolds him through a clenched jaw, then lowers his tone as he begins to crouch down. “Do you want me to hit your Papa Jin?”
“No!!!”
“Then quit acting like I eat everything in sight, you little shit.”
Yuji scratches the back of his head as he continues to whine, trying to force a couple tears out. Eventually he turns to you. “He’s gonna hit my papa with his big belly.”
“Uh-oh. That's not nice,” you begin to laugh, all while Sukuna grumbles something about Jin being the one with love handles.
“Papa gonna cry,” he sighs, continuing to act distraught over the news, trying to get all the sympathy he can from you. “Hmph— poor papa.”
“I know. I don’t think he’ll hit your papa, though.”
“He’s gonna EAT my papa!” Yuji stretches his arms out, emphasizing how big of a meal that would be for Sukuna. As if it couldn't get any worse, Yuji finds a random basketball and tries to stuff it under his shirt. “Then his belly will be big like THIS.”
“Stop it,” Sukuna snaps, pointing off into the distance behind the kid. “Get out of here before I barbecue you on that grill Mr. Toji’s using.”
“Hey!” Yuji gasps. “You can’t do that!”
“You can barbecue anything when you have barbecue sauce, Yuji.” he informs the kid, then notices a mortified Megumi standing off to the side. “You’re next.”
AGENT .ᐟ SUKUNA x MISSION COORDINATOR .ᐟ READER resident evil au, which you returned to after years of haunting him, (did you though?)
a gentle pounding of raindrops outside the car makes sukuna cleaning his handgun after contacting his superior about ten minutes ago regarding new intelligence that would be coordinating him.
his supervisor said that it would be somebody he knew, funny—he thought. all of his colleagues worked in the field just like him, only a few he knew. the last time was shoko, who coordinated sukuna and you on a risky mission before leaving you with serious injuries that forced you to stop working with him, as his partner.
and the fact, he did care a lot. blaming himself continuously behind that permanent scowl of his face, that he should not have agreed to that trash mission in the first place.
and since several years ago after that event until now sukuna has become a lone wolf. always going alone every where, fight those infected, save 'important people' but not for himself though.
did he missed you enough? you could say that every time he was paired up with another colleague he always refused.
just finished with the barrel of his gun, a slight crack coming from his earpeace and then it was silence—coming in with a slight soft rumbling from the back.
"checking in. roost to condor one, do you copy?"
sukuna stopped cleaning his gun, his eyes flickered across the rearview mirror of his car. the reflection of the disfigurement on the right side of his face—a chemical burn, staring back at him.
that voice.
he must be dreaming once again. he took too long to digest the situation until he didn't realize he had whispered your name.
"hi, ryo." you said softly.
if pride wasn't his best friend, then he would have already stated that he really, really misses you. instead, he replaced it with a low chuckle and put his handgun back into the holster.
"what, you became a lil' guardian angel around my ear now?"
a small pause.
"sounds like that."
he could hear an amusement behind your voice. he checked his phone one more time, the light from the screen bounced off his red eyes. he zoomed in on a photo of the target you had sent him. a nearly faded stitch wound was clearly visible on the man's forehead.
"what exactly is this guy up to?"
"force the evolution of humanity by merging all of humanity with the merger through his experiments. to create a new, transcendent form of bioweapons."
"the merger?" sukuna furrowed his eyebrows.
"master tengen is the first person you should meet. i will send you the coordinates."
"fucking hell."
"just think of this as your visit after a long time, sukuna. i'm sure that she misses you so much," you said while typing on your keyboard to search for the best route for him.
sukuna just scoffed as he put his smartphone on the dashboard, "yeah, misses me so much that i'm sure that old hag would punch me in the face."
sukuna started the engine of his car, his hands turned the steering wheel and looked back as he moved backwards. he started to step on the gas and left the investigation area.
"i never thought i would hear your voice again." sukuna said while leaning back in his seat with his eyes on the road.
"hm? is it still sweet?"
one of his favorite things about you is how you handle every situation with your nonchalant nature. it's undeniable how many times sukuna has misunderstood you because of that. his heart—actually.
"don't act like you haven't haunted me for years, woman." sukuna shaked his head slightly.
"i didn't ghost you, you're the one who's too in love with your own work." you finished sending him the coordinates, now resting your chin on your hand while the reflection of the monitor light hits the glasses you are wearing.
"sure." sukuna said gruffly, "after all this shit ends, i know there's a good steak house around here. they served good."
"so?"
oh how he so despise how you made him acted like this when no one's around. sukuna plucked his lips, "so i want you to come with me."
"why steak?" you tried to hold back your smile as you could feel sukuna rolling his eyes.
"i promised you that a few years ago." sukuna only breathes slowly, stepping on the brakes when he saw a red light in front of him.
now his thoughts were mixed, between how he should deal with master tengen's heavy blow and your presence that disturbed the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"you never change, ryo."
"yeah," sukuna murmured under his breath. "neither do you."
being toji’s older sister comes with multiple disadvantages.
he treats you like his personal bank account, walks into your room just to fart or flex in your mirror, eats all your things, and calls you to pick him up at ungodly hours when he’s drunk.
the worst disadvantage, however?
his obsessed, annoying cocky little best friend.
although, as sukuna’s 6’4 tattoo muscular tank of a body slides into the backseat of your car, his smirk unmoving and cologne strong— you were unsure ‘little’ was really the right adjective.
“you know, driving you and your friends home when you’re drunk was an offer when you were eighteen— not twenty two.” you muttered. toji only grunted, relaxing in his seat.
“shouldn’t have offered at all, then.” he muttered, already drifting off to sleep. sukuna only poked his head between the two seats, red eyes on your face as you drove, smirk widening when toji spoke again. “sukuna’s staying over.”
“of course he is.” you muttered. sukuna only grinned, the action sharp and annoying, and toji only snorted loudly. once you two arrived to the apartment you shared with your brother, sukuna was dragging him upstairs, his eyes on you the entire time.
you ignored it, letting him struggle with getting your asshole of a brother into bed as you slid into your kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. by the time you were settled on the counter, taking your first sip, footsteps echoed until sukuna was joining you, his eyes flickering to you as he grabbed a glass for himself.
you slowly tilted your head. he was never that quiet. was he okay? oh, fuck, has he finally given up? were you finally free—
“toji told me some guy bought you flowers.” sukuna finally spoke, voice deep, unamused. his pretty eyes narrowed. “you rejected him, right? does he not know you have a husband at home?”
you almost choked on your water, wide eyes flickering to him, utterly flabbergasted. “husband?”
“husband.” he insisted. “i got toji’s blessing.”
“kuna,” you started, oblivious to how the nickname made his eyes soften and ears flush. “you really need to see someone about those delusions.”
“you’re right,” he drawled out, stepping closer. “i should start seeing you.”
you sighed. he turned serious, his eyes darkening, stepping closer, palms firmly pressing against the counter on each side, frowning.
“how long are you going to pretend I don’t really want you?” he asked, voice low. “you’re not stupid. you know this isn’t a joke.”
you swallowed harshly at the change of mood, voice quietening. “kuna—“
“you know i would do anything for you.” he cut you off, serious. “you know how serious i am— fuck, y/n, i have wanted you for years.”
you sucked in a sharp breath. he continued, voice growing more intense, almost desperate.
“you know i would kneel and beg for you to give me a chance,” he murmured. “i would do absolutely anything for you. you used to use age as an excuse when we were kids, and it fucking haunted me. two years should never matter as much— but whatever. i was patient, i waited and waited, and ‘m a fucking man now, and you know it. i can handle it— i can handle you. i will be the best fucking gentleman— i would be the perfect boyfriend for you.”
he leaned closer, enough for you to feel the heat of his body against yours.
“i fucking did everything.” he grunted. “you hated cigarettes, so i quit. you said you didn’t date losers, so i scored top grades, had a social life, and got l a fucking full-paid athletic scholarship. i never even touched another girl— because no one could even compare to you. it’s always been you.”
he paused for a second, taking in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering shut. “i don’t even care if you think it’s pathetic anymore—“
he froze when your lips pressed against his— hard enough for him to shut up, yet gentle enough for him to absolutely melt against you. his hands were immediately on your waist, warm fingers practically shaking, a whimper escaping his lips— the sound so deep and desperate, almost as if you were air and he just learned what it was like to breathe. you pulled away, and almost grinned at the needy whine escaping his lips. his face was flushed, eyes slowly pushing open, breathing shaky.
“you’re a horrible kisser.” you whispered softly. his cheeks flushed further, lips forming an embarrassed scowl.
“ex-fucking-cuse me for saving myself for you,” he muttered, fingers holding into your waist more tightly, as if you would disappear if he didn’t. he let his face drop into your neck, and breathed out as the realization settled in. “you just kissed me.”
“…i did.” you whispered. “had to shut you up.”
“‘ll talk forever if that’s what it takes.” he mumbled. “fuck. that was everything i ever dreamed of and more. can we kiss again?”
“you’re not gonna take me out a date first, mr. i-will-be-the-best-gentleman?” you teased, sliding a hand into his hair. his head snapped up, eyes wide.
“you’re serious?” he grinned, looking more like a puppy who finally got his favorite toy more than a terrifying, tattooed frat boy who people were terrified of, a man twice your size. “oh, ‘ll fucking spoil you. i’ll treat you so good, you’ll forget other men even exist. i’ll buy you flowers— fuck, ‘ll buy you an entire fucking flowershop—“
“do i need to kiss you again?”
his grin only widened, already leaning down eagerly. “you ask that like i would ever be stupid enough to say no.”
dad!poet!kuna, dealing with his resemblance in your daughter when you were away to the market with little uraume.
the soft sound of brush strokes filled the room, along with the sting of the black liquid that had just been saved from dust.
the tree you love most, a gift from sukuna—is now shedding its beautiful pink petals. a gentle breeze brushed against his back, as he continued to compose phrase after phrase on the old parchment.
perhaps the king of curses is known for his rough tangles, but who would have thought, if there will always be wariness in behind it? that's what is being written today.
a man who is known for his agility, violence, sitting comfortably on the tatami with a roll of old parchment he had collected— stolen if the occupants of this house still left any evidence.
sukuna had been silent for a long time, his right hand busy running here and there using up the ink on the tip of his brush, sometimes letting it dry when he couldn't find a rhyming word. and his left hand was holding a small, chubby thing, which had been making cooing sounds every time she watched her father draw his ink.
your daughter was the best gift for him. a form of part of you and sukuna, inheriting cherry blossom colored hair, eyes a mix between you and him, the same smile that you wore whenever you are full of love.
and behavior that is not far from her father.
your daughter has been sitting on her father's lap since she asked to be carried by sukuna, when you said you wanted to go to the market with little uraume. sukuna initially denied, wanting to watch over the two of you, but when you gave him a look that could silence him for a second, along with offered your beloved child who's been reaching him with her little grabby hands in front of his face.
and here they are both, sukuna is killing time continuing his literary work, while holding the tiny body of your daughter who never stops chattering. a contrast between the calmness of the wind from outside and the soft coo, perhaps sukuna already choose the right path for his afterlife.
your daughter's little hand grasping her father's thumb as he held her little body so she wouldn't fall. a little babbles has been coming out every time she saw the brush being moved by her father.
"pa... pa..."
a tiny hand suddenly got too close to the ink that had not yet dried on the corner of the parchment. sukuna snapped out his daze, his upper hand immediately blocked the movement of his little gremlin.
"no,"
sukuna slightly pushed the old paper away, only to be answered by the soft babbling of the baby. she had a kind of pout in her, much like her own big father when he dissatisfied.
your daughter flicked her gaze on the small ink-stone in the front. the frown was replaced by a bright smile. her little chubby hand reached back to the small plate, and of course sukuna took it to keep it away from spelling.
"no."
there is a slight rise in tone from him, and your daughter only left with her small pout once again. she was now just silent with a frown, muttering incoherently, as if she was scolding her own father.
sukuna was broken from his sea of diction when he felt a small tug on his haori. he looked down and found a mix of his gaze and yours, looking up at him. sukuna understood that look.
"pa..." a look of his daughter that wanted to be carried like a princess who wanted to destroy the world, and he would support her without exception.
but somehow he refused it, for now. sukuna still lifted the baby but he placed it on the table where he poured out his heart and thoughts into a haiku.
your daughter now had a brightest smile on her little face, staring down at her father's handwritten parchment. when she wanted to reach for the paper with her tiny hands, your husband, finally—gave her the brush.
a toothless smile now appeared wider. your daughter gripped the brush tightly. the old parchment, now replaced with a blank one. perhaps after you come you can see the walls of your house filled with traces of souls you loved.
a low chuckle came from him as his daughter started spread the ink slovenly, only this time sukuna felt the blessing. this small family, he was certainly very poor, but not with the love you taught him.
"go on, little one. create an evidence no one could erase."
dad!poet!kuna, dealing with his resemblance in your daughter when you were away to the market with little uraume.
the soft sound of brush strokes filled the room, along with the sting of the black liquid that had just been saved from dust.
the tree you love most, a gift from sukuna—is now shedding its beautiful pink petals. a gentle breeze brushed against his back, as he continued to compose phrase after phrase on the old parchment.
perhaps the king of curses is known for his rough tangles, but who would have thought, if there will always be wariness in behind it? that's what is being written today.
a man who is known for his agility, violence, sitting comfortably on the tatami with a roll of old parchment he had collected— stolen if the occupants of this house still left any evidence.
sukuna had been silent for a long time, his right hand busy running here and there using up the ink on the tip of his brush, sometimes letting it dry when he couldn't find a rhyming word. and his left hand was holding a small, chubby thing, which had been making cooing sounds every time she watched her father draw his ink.
your daughter was the best gift for him. a form of part of you and sukuna, inheriting cherry blossom colored hair, eyes a mix between you and him, the same smile that you wore whenever you are full of love.
and behavior that is not far from her father.
your daughter has been sitting on her father's lap since she asked to be carried by sukuna, when you said you wanted to go to the market with little uraume. sukuna initially denied, wanting to watch over the two of you, but when you gave him a look that could silence him for a second, along with offered your beloved child who's been reaching him with her little grabby hands in front of his face.
and here they are both, sukuna is killing time continuing his literary work, while holding the tiny body of your daughter who never stops chattering. a contrast between the calmness of the wind from outside and the soft coo, perhaps sukuna already choose the right path for his afterlife.
your daughter's little hand grasping her father's thumb as he held her little body so she wouldn't fall. a little babbles has been coming out every time she saw the brush being moved by her father.
"pa... pa..."
a tiny hand suddenly got too close to the ink that had not yet dried on the corner of the parchment. sukuna snapped out his daze, his upper hand immediately blocked the movement of his little gremlin.
"no,"
sukuna slightly pushed the old paper away, only to be answered by the soft babbling of the baby. she had a kind of pout in her, much like her own big father when he dissatisfied.
your daughter flicked her gaze on the small ink-stone in the front. the frown was replaced by a bright smile. her little chubby hand reached back to the small plate, and of course sukuna took it to keep it away from spelling.
"no."
there is a slight rise in tone from him, and your daughter only left with her small pout once again. she was now just silent with a frown, muttering incoherently, as if she was scolding her own father.
sukuna was broken from his sea of diction when he felt a small tug on his haori. he looked down and found a mix of his gaze and yours, looking up at him. sukuna understood that look.
"pa..." a look of his daughter that wanted to be carried like a princess who wanted to destroy the world, and he would support her without exception.
but somehow he refused it, for now. sukuna still lifted the baby but he placed it on the table where he poured out his heart and thoughts into a haiku.
your daughter now had a brightest smile on her little face, staring down at her father's handwritten parchment. when she wanted to reach for the paper with her tiny hands, your husband, finally—gave her the brush.
a toothless smile now appeared wider. your daughter gripped the brush tightly. the old parchment, now replaced with a blank one. perhaps after you come you can see the walls of your house filled with traces of souls you loved.
a low chuckle came from him as his daughter started spread the ink slovenly, only this time sukuna felt the blessing. this small family, he was certainly very poor, but not with the love you taught him.
"go on, little one. create an evidence no one could erase."
hold me like a grudge
ch1 - there is a hell,
believe me i've seen it
➴ childhood bsf trueform!sukuna x f!reader
[heian era canon adjacent au] - ongoing series
❝ the world is an unjust beast. it claws and tears until nothing remains but those cursed with the greatest gift of all; power. in another world, ryomen sukuna is the strongest sorcerer in history, capable of an evil no one can dream. but he was once a boy, and you were once a girl. now a devil with docked horns and an angel with tattered wings, you walk this world together, your curse to navigate side by side. ❞
➴ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. dark themes surrounding my interpretation of sukuna's upbringing and how it affects you both. graphic depictions of blood, gore, death, dismemberment, mutilation, and hunted animals. character death. themes surrounding poor mental health. poor coping mechanisms. arguments. best friends to lovers. toxic codependency. child abuse & neglect. self-hatred. attempted self-mutilation. bigotry & period-accurate misogyny. eventual smut after both characters are over 18. angst. hurt/no comfort. eventual hurt/comfort. tragic lovers with a happy ending. dddne.
➴ wc ; 6.2k.
➴ a/n ; hellooo, welcome to my new series! i really wanted to do a series looking into a scenario in which sukuna grew up with someone to support him so this is it! i've been enjoying the exploration of these characters and challenging myself to write as accurately as i can for the heian era, but please excuse any inaccuracies and note that i have taken some liberties both with my interpretation of the era and with cursed energy :)
please heed the warnings on this one, it's far darker than my last series and some parts aren't for the faint of heart as this is a very realistic take on what i would envision taking place. anywho, please enjoy grudge!kuna, reader, and their friends and family <3
as a note; sukuna doesn't have his tats/markings when the story begins :)
main masterlist || series masterlist || next ➵ - coming soon
When you’re a child, it’s easy to assume that the stories you hear from your parents are just that– stories. Fantasies and horrors that ebb and flow with the tides of time, but one doesn’t often consider where new ones might come from.
Your father loves stories. There’s nothing you love more in life than sitting between your parents as he tells you stories of grandeur, of heroes with pristinely crafted katanas and monsters to be defeated. Stories of warriors who face armies and don’t bat an eye at the prospect of loss. He tells you the most bold and exciting tales and a part of you longs for the idea of being one of the aforementioned heroes when you grow up.
Your mother likes to share stories of love and wisdom. Of kind souls who take in injured animals and nurse them back to health. Stories of people who find solace in one another and learn love through care. She tells stories that make you grateful for the warmth you’re beholden to, and another part of you longs to offer that kindness to those less fortunate.
Sometimes, late at night, you hear them tell the kind of stories that scare children into staying out of the forests. Ones of two-faced demons more monster than man who raze villages in a sea of slashes, leaving nothing of recognition behind. You recall the feeling of dread creeping up your spine as your parents whispered of it in the dead of night.
There’s no hero in this story, just loss and bloodshed. One where the monster comes out victorious, bold horns and venom-spitting teeth curled in delight as it takes pleasure in taking the lives of others. It’s the kind of tale that needs to be dulled at the edges before your dad ever tells you it.
Those whispered words brought you nightmares, of cruel vitriol and vicious snarls of a monster taller than your home. Claws protruding from digits that don’t breathe of humanity, used only to rip and tear. Eyes so cold and dead that those who saw them were doomed to their end before they could get a word in edgewise.
Over the following year, the story would warp. It would become far more suitable for the younger crowd, nothing more than a shadow of the spine-chilling tale you once heard. A hero added to the outskirts to slay the monster with a victorious shout, burying the truth even farther from what it ever was.
The story you once heard would fade in your memories with time, replaced by the one with the brave warrior and his beautifully crafted long-bow. After all, can one ever truly blame a child for their naivety? The world is nothing if not yours to explore when you’re barely a few days over four.
“Saya! Sayaaa!” You call out for your friend, padding through the leafy undergrowth behind your village in search of her. Your kimono brushes against your knees as you push through a series of flimsy branches, scanning your surroundings for any signs of your hidden counterpart.
Sun beats down between gaps in the growth above, briefly blinding you as you make your way through a sunny patch of trees. Blinking hard to adjust to the sudden burst of light, you round a tree and rub at them as you make out the shape of a small human crouched down before you.
“Found you!” Gleefully, you bound further into the clearing, lowering your hands from your eyes when you come face-to-face with a small boy, rather than your best friend. “Oh–!” With lips pursed into an ‘O’ shape, you peer down curiously at the little boy cautiously peering over his shoulder at you.
He wears silks far too large for his stature that pools on the ground around him. The fabric’s edges are tattered and filthy, the seams tearing where he seems to have stepped on them. The boy himself seems to be your age if you were to make a guess. His cheeks are rounded, covered in enough grime to make you wonder how his parents let him get that way.
His hair is the kind of pale pink that makes you think of the fish your parents prepare here and there, a pretty near-salmon that doesn’t suit the glare being shot at you. The pupil you can see is a pinprick, tossed over his shoulder as though he’s hiding something from you. He seems to brandish a scar beneath the eye you’re able to see, some sort of slice located at the edge of his vision.
In spite of the scorn being tossed over his shoulder with just one look, he’s still just a boy.
“Hello!”
If his eye could narrow any further, it does. He doesn’t reply, curling in towards whatever you now realize is on the ground before him.
Rocking back and forth on your heels, you clasp your hands behind your back, introducing yourself. When he still doesn’t reply, his pupil flitting across your features dangerously, you take a cautious step forward, trying to peer at what it is he seems to be protecting.
He shuffles further away from you, his back still to you as he stops you from seeing whatever it may be.
Chewing on your lip as the boy makes things difficult, you tilt your head. “What’s your name?”
His piercing stare doesn’t falter as his head swivels back towards you. He examines your face just long enough that you’re about to take another nosy step forward, when he finally takes a breath to speak.
“I get called Ryomen Sukuna.” He mutters his words, speaking in a rough tone, as though his voice hasn’t been used in a while.
Straightening, you tilt your head in the opposite direction as you work through the memories of your brief four rotations around the sun. It’s familiar, in a spine-chilling sort of way that any adult might recognize and run the other way. Your instincts lack that knowledge, even as you recall where you’ve heard it before.
Two-faced Spirit. The monster known for curled horns and sharp fangs, long claws and deadly slices.
“Like in the stories?”
His gaze momentarily flickers away. “Yes.”
You pout. It’s a rather mean-spirited name for a child, and that just won’t do.
“I think Ryo is better.”
He shifts, less guarded as he sits upright and looks you up and down suspiciously. As he turns more towards you, you’re able to make out some sort of protrusion from the side of his face that he’s guarding. He’s also far more covered in grime than you had initially gathered, with a smearing of blood across his cracked lips, dripping freshly down his chin. It should scare you.
It doesn’t.
This time when you take a step towards him, peering over his shoulder, he doesn’t stop you.
You recoil at the sight. Once a rabbit, now barely more than a pelt. Your nose wrinkles. “Did you eat that?”
“Yes.”
“Ewww!” You proclaim in the kind of way only a child can manage.
His brow furrows again as he faces away, pulling his kill closer as though your judgement is expected. Still, you don’t leave as he expects, and when he throws another glare over his shoulder to find you still there, that’s when his lips finally curl in disdain. “What do you want?”
“Where are your parents?”
He turns away from you again, briefly silent. “Not here.”
“Are you alone?”
He picks at the rabbit’s thigh, shoving raw meat into his mouth that has you nearly gagging at the sight. “Yes,” he answers between chewing.
“Why?”
His head whips around to face you, frustrated, if his scowl is anything to go by. This time, you’re able to make out the protrusion on the other side of your face. It seems to be some sort of mask or plate of flesh. An eye as red as the one you’ve already seen tilts, as though he’s watching you from all angles. You notice there seems to be another scar of sorts beneath it, just like the other eye. He’s otherwise a normal kid, as far as you can tell. “Because.”
You step closer, barely a stride away now. “Do you wanna help me find my friend?”
Irises as red as the blood that decorates his chin narrow to mere slits. “Why would I do that?”
“We’re playing hide and seek!” You explain with a wide grin.
“You want to… play?” He repeats the sentiment, his voice rife with confusion.
“Yeah!”
His left eye averts as he considers your proposition. Shifting the rabbit corpse nearer the tree he’s crouched before, he covers it in leaf litter and nods. “Okay. How do I play?”
With a delighted hop, you grab his wrist and drag him away from the clearing where he was hunched over. “Saya’s hiding somewhere near the village, we just–”
“Village?” He repeats warily, freezing before you can drag him too far.
As he tugs you to a halt, you turn to face him. He has a sizable amount of height over you for a kid who seems to share your age. If it weren’t for the rounded cheeks and limited vocabulary you both share, you might think he was a bigger kid.
“Yeah, my parents are there,” you explain simply, attempting to tug him once more.
“No.” He holds his ground. “I won’t go near your village.”
“Why not?” You pout, hands on your hips indignantly.
He stares back with equal indignance. “They won’t like me.”
For all of your naivety and innocence, you can’t begin to understand where he’s coming from. “They have to meet you before they can like you!” You insist. “Duh.”
He scowls, but as you tug his wrist once more, he obliges and follows after you.
“Saya loves climbing!” You explain, casting a glance back at the uncertain boy. “Check the trees!”
As you bound between thick cedar stumps, kicking up leaves and dirt, the little boy rather quietly allows you to drag him with you. “What do you do when you find Saya?”
“Then one of us will hide instead! Have you really never played?”
“Never.”
“It’ll be fun!” You insist, slowing your pace as you near one of Saya’s favorite spots. The trees in this particular clearing are prime for climbing with branches low enough that even a clumsy four-year-old can make their way up into the overhanging greenery.
Sure enough, as you slow to a halt, the boy’s head whips around as something catches his attention. Hackles raised, he steps back on bare feet, hands braced before him as though he might need to defend himself.
Confusion is clear on your expression as you watch his strange reaction before following his gaze curiously. “Found you!”
Saya’s face peers from behind the cover of leaves, wide auburn eyes focused on the little boy a few steps behind you who cautiously eyes her. “Who are you?” She calls down, pushing short raven-black hair behind her ear.
“This is Ryo!” You introduce him with an exaggerated wave of your hand as though you’re presenting a discovery. Which, one could suppose you are.
She leaps from branch to branch, landing heavily in leaves that are too summer-green to crunch quite yet. She confidently strides up to him, standing between you both with hands on her hips as she evaluates the robes that he swims in, his arms barely visible under the sea of silken fabrics. Were they his size, one might think he had come from money.
She’s silent for a long moment as she curiously looks over the protrusion on his face. His gaze hardens, a small frown forming as he braces, when–
“Not fair,” Saya finally decides, turning back towards you with an arm outstretched towards Sukuna. “He helped you find me!”
Proudly beaming, you nod. “See!” You insist, leaning around Saya. “I told you it would be fun!”
Slowly, he lowers his guard as his hands fall to his sides. He examines Saya and nods decisively, as though coming to terms with the fact that she’s equally as little of a threat as you are.
“Okay, your turn to hide!” You insist as you turn to the little boy. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, dried hare’s blood falling from his skin in little flakes. “Not too far, though.”
He blinks, standing upright as though he was carrying something on his shoulders initially and has finally set it down. His shoulders are more relaxed, his gait more event as he agrees, a hint of something genuine behind his irises. Had you blinked, you might even miss the slight tilt to his lips. He nods, and bounds off as you and Saya count.
As the sun travels across the sky, the shadows being cast by the layer of leaves overhead grow longer. You hide in bushes while Saya slinks through the trees, and Sukuna curls under large root growths protruding from the underbrush.
Hide and seek turns into an unfair game of tag as you realize Sukuna’s legs are far longer than yours. It’s not until you hear Saya’s father calling that your games slow with a defeated groan. Sukuna freezes, all signs of playfulness draining from his body as he steps back.
“Coming!” Saya calls back, pushing up from the spot where she had tripped over own feet. “Are you going home, Ryo?”
His gaze is still trained on the space between the trees where Saya’s father’s voice echoed. One eye briefly flickers towards her, a curiosity in itself that he seems capable of, but he’s still hyperfocused on the gap in the trees. “No.”
Saya exchanges a glance with you. “Where are you going after this?”
He backs himself closer to the tree behind him. “My rabbit.”
Your nose wrinkles as Saya’s face twists in confusion. “You can’t eat that!” You insist. “You have to cook it first!”
He shrugs, still gradually moving back as though he might retreat any moment. You reach out to take his wrist, fingers curled around it softly. “Come with us. My mama cooks so good!”
The boy adamantly shakes his head, a hand rising to touch the eye that protrudes from the left side of his face. “I have to go.”
Adamantly tugging his wrist closer to you, you shake your head. “Pleeeaaase!”
As Saya nods by your side, the little boy’s entire demeanor shifts, as though the afternoon has had more of an effect on him than he could have imagined. His lips part as he contemplates your offer, his gaze sliding between you and your short-haired friend. His head swivels back in the direction of his early afternoon kill, the closest thing he has to home, before his chest rises and falls in a huff. “Okay.”
The run back through the wooded paths you’ve grown used to is short even as you pull Sukuna behind you. His robes drag through hardened mud, picking up twigs and thorns along the way until you reach the outer edge of the village.
Your newest friend lowers his gaze. His hand pushes back through his spiky pink locks as though it might prevent those around him from getting a good look at him. Saya’s father is at the outer edge of their crops awaiting his daughter.
The man’s expression relaxes as Saya runs up to him, clambering at his sleeves as she excitedly tells him that she got to climb the tallest tree ever. It’s when she mentions making a new friend that the man’s expression falters. He lifts his attention to Sukuna a step behind you, the right half of his body tilted away from the adult.
His jaw clenches at the sight of the grime-covered boy as he makes his way slowly towards you both. Patting your head in greeting, the man moves just past you, kneeling down. Face-to-face with Sukuna, he introduces himself, met only with a short “hello” when Sukuna makes no moves to look up.
“Where are your parents?”
Sukuna’s hand falls from his hair. Before he can even reply, Saya’s father’s balance falters and he stumbles back. A stunned expression dons his features as he casts a glance between you two girls and back at Sukuna.
The boy hesitates. “Gone.”
Uneasily eyeing the child, Saya’s father calls for his wife. She must sense his concern, as she makes haste to his side. He eyes your friend as he whispers to her, his words lost on all three of you. Still, Saya’s mother regards the little boy with sympathy as he peers up from beneath his lashes in a pile of dirty fabrics.
Her brow knits as she speaks to her husband in a tone you manage to catch, something akin to disbelief. She must make a decision of her own volition as she steps forward, kneeling before Sukuna. “What’s your name, dear?”
Sukuna blinks, glancing sidelong at you. “Ryo.”
Saya’s mother cracks a smile. “How lovely. Let’s get you indoors. You need to be cleaned up.”
The boy’s expression morphs into something of shock, but he obliges, letting the kind woman take his hand as she leads him inside. As Saya’s mother extends her kindness to the child in need, her father gathers your parents within their home. As you and your friend play with a number of wooden figures on the floor, the adults’ conversation is mostly lost on you, although you catch bits and pieces.
“–could he be a descendant from the tales?”
“–what if he does it again–”
“–kill–”
“–he cannot be seen–”
“–the real monster here is–”
“–there is no reason to be unkind–”
Your attention rises to the door as your father’s closest friend–the village leader– joins the gathered adults. They exchange greetings, filling him in on details. It’s not until Sukuna and Saya’s mother return that you gather that there’s a level of severity to the discussion they’re having about nothing more than a little boy. Your new friend.
The silence is thick as your parents and your father’s friend both get a look at the boy.
Freshly bathed with strands of pink sticking up in all directions and robes that are moderately closer to his size, he looks far more presentable. The robes seem to bunch oddly in his middle section, almost as though he’s hidden something beneath them. He has a few scrapes along his hands and arms and a small cut on his cheek, but otherwise he mostly just seems tired. His eyes have a droop to them telling of a child who needs a nap. Still, he doesn’t seem to think twice as he comes to join you and Saya on the floors, his legs folding beneath him as he picks up a wooden figure to examine it.
Glances are exchanged between the adults. Whispers ripple through the shadows. It’s Saya’s mother who puts herself out there for the boy.
“We will not be throwing him out,” she adamantly states. “He is the same age as your daughter, could you truly treat him in such a way knowing that?” She accuses her husband. Your father shares his shame, though if the village leader– Murata-san– has any reservations, they’re quieter.
“How are we meant to take him in? No one can see a boy like that. He’ll be killed.”
“I will take him in.”
All heads whip towards Murata.
“It may be his only chance at safety,” he explains as though it’s a no-brainer. His green eyes narrow in Sukuna’s direction. “Besides, is he not just a child?”
He leaves behind little room for doubt as they find the boy already nodding off on the floor. For all of the uncertainty gathered in the room, no one can deny that the little boy slowly slumping over is as human as they come, no matter what the hateful may say.
–
No living creature could ever hope for a life of loneliness. Even the most solitary of creatures will seek out habitats where others roam nearby. Even those shunned from their own homes long for a life of companionship.
Perhaps that’s what brought you together. Without prejudice, you see him for what he is, and still want his friendship.
The boy once treated like the plague and discarded after an early life of vitriol and violence had already amounted his life to one of loneliness. At only five years old he hides in his adopted father’s fields. At age four, he scavenged for berries and sliced rabbits in an effort to keep his head above water. At age three he writhed and screamed for his mother as he was torn from her grasp, unknowingly awakening a boy with the potential to be a cursed king.
Abandoned by the gods, he knows only the cruelty of man, the child of tragedy itself.
You and Saya, however, take his beliefs down another path. Perhaps he’s still shunned by those who don’t understand him, but you offer him peace, solace, and normalcy.
“Ryoooo!” You call out into the crops where he can usually be found. You can’t see him through the large plant stalks, but a small shuffle in the distance tells you that you’ve captured his attention.
He emerges in a flash of pink from between the wheat stalks.
In the year since you met, he’s grown into quite the little helper around the more rural areas of the village. He grows like a weed, always a good couple of inches over your head. Murata-san often complains about the rate in which new fabrics go to use, though you might argue the real issue is his tendency to rip them.
He may not be as talkative as Saya or as curious as you are, but he makes a great listener and he’s adept at your favourite games.
The hat he dons blocks much of his blood-red eyes, but his left eye glints with intrigue as he awaits what you called him for.
“There’s a celebration today, you should come! Saya and I are gonna go look!”
For a split second, something akin to thrill passes over his expression. It doesn’t last when he casts a glance back in the direction of his home. “I can’t.”
“Is your father making you work again?” You pout.
His lip twitches. “Yes.”
“Come on, can you just sneak away for a little bit?”
His grimace widens, but it’s not an immediate no. You’ve come to know that he can be convinced fairly easily to sneak away if it means spending time with you and Saya. You seldom invite the other children to play, as the rest of the boys have always been far too rough, but Sukuna has the tendency to keep to himself.
“Fine,” he sighs. “If Murata-Sensei finds out, he won’t be happy,” Sukuna frowns, casting a glance back through the fields where his home lies in wait.
“He won’t find out!” You insist with all the care of a young child, positively brimming with excitement. “Come on!” Taking hold of his wrist, you drag him away from the fields. The coarse fiber of his sage-green garments gathers at the point where your limbs are tangled, brushing your arm.
“I’ll be underdressed for the celebration,” he mutters as you drag him further from the home where the crops are his sanctity and shelter from prying eyes.
“We’re just watching!” You insist, “It’s for the adults, anyway. They’re doing archery!” You glance back, beaming.
That seems to get his attention. “Archery?” No longer allowing you to drag him to Saya’s, he catches up with you as you lead the way to the home tucked within the back corner of the village.
With his interest now piqued, you pridefully hold the information over his head. “Mhmm! It’s a competition. They’re showing off for the emperor!”
Sukuna stiffens, his steps faltering. Your hand tears from his wrist as he stops dead in his tracks. “The emperor will be there?”
Stopping to peer back at him, you tilt your head. “Yeah. Why?”
Your friend’s jaw tightens. For as much as he appreciates your friendship, you’ve never really clicked with the fact that he’s different. In spite of his different face, you’ve always struggled to grasp that not everyone views him with so little prejudice. At times, he’s grateful for your childish impartiality.
Other times, he’s reminded of how alone he is in the world.
It settles heavily in his chest as you happily wave your wide sleeves through the air, awaiting his response.
“The emperor…” He grits his teeth, casting his glance aside as he spares you the gruesome details. “He won’t like me.”
Too naive to understand, you surge forward to grab his wrist again. “I told you, we’ll just be watching anyway!”
His brow furrows, but he lets you drag him to Saya’s house. Being within a farm-abundant village sets the houses a small distance from another, something he’s grown to appreciate as it allows him to remain in the shadows of the kind man who took him in. He’s strict and particular, but Sukuna would never mistake that for unkindness. He’s treated well, and even at his young age, the child has learned better than to take that for granted and not return that respect.
He stands behind you as Saya emerges from her house at the knock of your knuckles. She’s dressed up in pinks that match your kimono. Crimson irises flit down to his attire, the hemp woven into a coarse material that keeps him safe from the sun as he wanders the land behind Murata’s house– his house. He doesn’t feel nearly as done-up as you and Saya are. Regardless of your dismissal of his concerns, he still feels underdressed for the occasion.
“You look so pretty!” You gasp as Saya twirls at the door.
“Thanks!” She grins in the flower-laden kimono. “Mama put the flowers on it!” She gleefully shows off the embroidered detailing along the sleeves. Her hands fall to her sides with the rustling of the excess material. “Are you guys excited?”
“Yes!” You hop in place as Sukuna quietly nods at your side. “I love watching the archers! We need to make sure we don’t miss it,” you insist with the sun high in the sky.
The three of you tear through the field outside Saya’s house, kicking up dirt and dust in your trail without a care at all. One would almost think you were on top of the world, just three care-free children on their way to a celebration that your parents deemed unnecessary for the three of you to attend. But what reasonable five-year-old listens to the rhetoric of a parent?
Sneaking through the trees in a flurry of giggles, you find yourself on the outer edge of the gathering quickly. You stick close to trees in case you’re spotted by anyone, let alone your parents.
“Where’s the archery?” Saya whispers, clinging to the bark of the tree you’re hidden behind as she peers at the crowd.
“It must be what everyone is looking at,” you murmur, staring up above you. “Climb the tree, Saya!”
“Good idea!” She whispers back without a care at all for the Kimono she’s wearing. She clambers at the bark, trying to get a good foothold on anything, but the tree is taller than what she can manage. “Ryo, help!” She pleads with the tallest, who’s scowling quietly as he cautiously watches the crowd.
Still, he steps forward and tries to help lift Saya.
“Put your foot on my knee.”
“You’re slippery!”
“You kicked me!”
“Just a bit higher!”
“Ow!”
With all of the kerfuffle, it’s a miracle you aren’t heard. Saya scales the branches once she reaches the first one, tossing her sandals down once she realizes they’re a detriment to her climbing.
“You almost hit me!” The boy at your side grumpily whisper-yells, fully scowling at this point with his arms crossed as he side-steps the shoe.
“Yeah, but I didn’t!”
“Stop fighting,” you insist, more focused on the celebration in the clearing ahead. “Do you see it?”
No longer distracted, Saya seats herself atop a branch. “They’re just starting! Get up here!”
Hopping up and down, you shed your own sandals without putting Sukuna in danger this time, and turn to him gleefully. “Help me up!”
His frown tightens, but he obliges. You use his thigh as leverage as he hoists you up to the best of his ability while you pull yourself up to the first branch. Saya helps with footing as you make your way to her side, shortly followed by the pink-haired boy. As the three of you plop down on a pair of strong branches, you’re able to finally get a good look at the competition, and the emperor’s men, though you don’t see the man himself.
Your eyes are full of wonder as you watch arrows soar through the air. You recognize one of your father’s friends among the line of archers, alongside many people you’ve seen around but scarcely remember.
“I want Okamoto-san to win!” You proclaim, pointing out your father’s friend.
“No way!” Saya nudges your shoulder as she points out where his arrow landed on his target. “His arrow is way off!”
“I know but they fire more than one arrow, Saya!”
Within the cover of the trees, Sukuna relaxes at your side, his arms clinging to the branch beneath him as he stares down at his dangling feet. The air is still warm from the mid-afternoon sun as it filters through the leaves above, and the breeze is nice on his skin.
The sun knows not real warmth compared to you and Saya, though. Even bickering at his side over pointless drivel, his friends are what truly provide him with the kind of happiness that could keep any kid content. Even as the sensation that he shouldn’t be here creeps up on him, he finds himself drawn to your conversation.
“I could be a great archer someday,” you proclaim, mimicking the archery pose used by those with far more experience than you.
“You can’t be an archer,” Saya reminds you with the sort of resignation that’s typical of someone forced into the box of societal expectations herself. “You’re supposed to run the farm like your mom,” she states, a reminder of how your futures are more than likely shaped for you.
“I think you could be,” Sukuna chimes in, not privy to the expectations of your father after only having known you both for a year. He’s far too young to grasp much for societal norms beyond that of one’s appearance.
You whip your head around, kicking your feet out beneath you with a beam. “Thanks!” You stick your tongue out at Saya triumphantly, which has your friend giggling.
“Well maybe I can be an empress someday, then!”
“You already look like one!” You beam as though half of the battle is solved. “I would defend you from big bad monsters.” You shut one eye as you mimic an archery pose once again, spine straightened with one arm extended and the other bent. “I want pretty pink armor to match your kimono.”
“What about you, Ryo?”
Sukuna’s gaze falls to the underbrush several feet below in thought. “I can be a monster, I guess.”
Both of your heads tilt in confusion. “What? No way!” You exclaim. “You would be the mightiest warrior there is!” You shift on the branch, painting a picture before you with the exaggerated motions of your hands. “When you’re all grown up, you’re gonna be the biggest and most loved that there is!” You grin.
Sukuna’s cheeks warm at your proclamation. He scratches haphazardly at what you can only guess are extra materials gathered at his waist that must be itchy, though he pulls his hand back suddenly like you’ve caught him doing something he shouldn’t be. “Maybe,” he agrees, though for once it’s nice to feel included.
“Come on, they’re taking too long for the next round,” Saya whines as she clings to the branch and makes a motion for you both to get down. “Let’s go play empress and warriors!”
As your group clambers from the tree and runs off in the direction of your farm, Sukuna takes on the role of a mighty warrior leader. He chases Yokai and fends off opposing armies with his most trusted archer at his side for the mighty empress. Cucumbers are prematurely pulled from the crops surrounding you as they become unfortunate fodder for Sukuna’s mighty wooden dowel, a pile of bruised and dirtied vegetables that you’ll surely be reprimanded for once your mother finds them.
When his back is turned is when Saya tosses the biggest one she can find, catching him by surprise as he’s thrown off-balance, just barely catching himself.
When he stands up with an indignant huff and brushes the dirt from his clothes with not one, but two pairs of arms as the second tears through the tie of his upper garments, that’s when you all take pause. He’s caught between two owlish pairs of eyes, equally incredulous expressions regarding him. A cold sweat gathers on his brow as he takes a step back.
No. Not you and Saya. Anyone but you two.
“I don’t– I won’t–” His thoughts choke him as he searches for words when tears gather at his furrowed brow. Panic rises, gripping his chest and bringing a level of incoherency to his already childish vocabulary. “I won’t do it again.” It comes out choked, nearly as a sob, when he desperately tries to pull his limbs back under the fabrics of his robes, haphazardly attempting to conceal them again although the fabric won’t cooperate. “I promise,” he murmurs as cold dread creeps up his spine and tears well frustratingly in his young eyes.
Still, as neither of you make a move to spit cruelties at him or restrain him, he doesn’t know how to react. Warm tears well and fall down tanned cheeks too young to know the pain of rejection, of the cold and biting nights, or hunger.
In what feels like a painful rejection of his body to his mind, he blinks heavily, revealing yet another secret as you and Saya are met with four fearful red irises.
“You have… four arms and eyes?” Saya finally pipes up, rocking back and forth on her heels as though she’s just counted them herself.
His fists ball at his sides as he backs away.
“That’s so cool!” You yell in your fit of excitement, stepping forward with a hand out and no regard for personal space.
Sukuna flinches as you approach him, the lower set of hands pulled towards his torso as something emptily slices through the air between you. You pull back at the strange sound as the air moves in ways you’ve never seen, staring curiously at him as it visibly clicks for him what you’ve just said. “Cool?” He mutters hoarsely, an air of resentment to his voice, although it doesn’t appear to be directed at either of you.
“Yeah!” You take another step forward, slower now as you extend your hand cautiously. His gaze flickers wildly between you and Saya, lowering to your hand as you curiously examine his arms. “Can I see?”
Saya is close behind you, as inquisitive as you are as Sukuna warily holds out one of the arms he usually keeps hidden. You can’t say what you’re expecting, it’s just another arm, but it confirms that you’re not seeing things. When you’re a child, that’s pretty cool.
“You could hold two bows!” You loudly exclaim, your mind wandering to the farthest reaches of possibility.
Your newer friend’s face contorts into disbelief, working through multiple stages of acceptance that you’re completely unbothered, before he finally envisions himself holding two bows. “What? No, how am I supposed to aim?”
“Oh.” Your shoulders fall as you picture him holding a bow on either side, his limbs horribly tangled. “But you could load a new arrow so fast! Or, or–! You could hold–”
“– four swords!” Saya chimes in excitedly as you finish the thought together, giggling in excitement.
Sukuna’s arms, all four, fall to his sides as his extra eyes blink at the both of you, unable to comprehend your fearless and accepting reactions. Even the children from his last village spewed scorn at him, what makes you both so different? He wants to associate it with the fact that you already know him and are friends, but even from the day you met, you never batted an eye at how different he was.
But something changed, in that moment. For Sukuna was no longer the cursed child, but a friend. Maybe life was different for him, maybe his time would be spent with two eyes closed and two arms hidden, but he didn’t have to do that around you or Saya any longer.
Bewildered, he stands silently as you both imagine worlds where he’s an emperor, the strongest, the kind of person people look up to. The kind of thing he could only ever dream. Coming from both of you, it feels more tangible, like he could reach out and grasp at it.
“Come on, Ryo,” you call, snapping him from his trance as you begin running off in another direction. He blinks, starting slowly as he makes a move to follow you. “You have to lead our army to save Saya!”
His short legs move faster, padding over dirt and patches of dried mud as he chases after you both with a wide grin on his face, the tears a long forgotten piece of his past.
main masterlist || series masterlist || next ➵ - coming soon
➴ a/n ; i hope you're enjoying it so far!! please be prepared for angst for these poor babies :') each scene will be from different points in their lives and childhoods for the first few chapters, and we'll follow them well into adulthood as well. i think the shorter chapters give me the space to put out work more frequently too which i'm really liking, and i'll likely work on the occasional other series or oneshot as well. i hope to share a lot more work!! anyway, tysm for all the excitement for this series and for reading <33
