Helloooo! (I think my dinosaur ass finally got the hang of this site😂)
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30's, go by she/her. Avid anime nerd/nerd in general, fuck it I'll own it. Hobby fanfic writer on the side with a focus on exploring dark themes. Current fandom is JJK, with a love for any and everything that is Sukuna 🥵
Me reading another person's writing: Oh they missed a period there, no worries mistakes happen :) Three adjectives in a sentence? Adverbs for days? No worries I love descriptions and this story is fire.
Me seeing the same thing in my work: Wow am I illiterate? Am I actually ok? Who the actual fuck told me I can write so I can go and curse their entire family for the time it took for me to carefully craft this GARBAGE.
MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: Malevolent Mercy on Ao3
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💥 Trigger warning: PTSD with HEAVY and INTENSE elements of coercive/dubious/non-con elements/Oral sex/ Female orgasm.💥
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You bolt upright, gasping for breath, hunched over with a hand clutching at your chest. Your body is drenched in a cold sweat, your insides burning up as your fingers rub the raw, angry, nail marks scratched across your sternum.
Your temples throb, the pressure behind your eyes building with every beat of your heart. You purse your lips and pant, trying to fight off the waves of nausea.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you lift your trembling hands to bury your face.
Was it all a bad dream? Did that really happen...?
A shaky breath slips out as your hands fall into your lap, balling into tight fists.
Opening your eyes, you blink twice, staring blankly ahead as the natural chill in the air leaves your flushed body shivering with goosebumps.
Hugging yourself, it doesn't take long before the memories come rushing back in all their vivid cruelty. Worse than any nightmare could conjure.
I lost control.
Complete and utter control of my mind. My body. My instincts.
I wasn't the General.
It's like a part of you had been ripped out, leaving you wide open for something else to take hold.
Something dark. Something dangerous.
You slap a hand over your mouth just as a muffled sob slips out before you can stop it, your guts twisting into a knot.
You slaughtered dozens, that much is true. And sure, it wasn't exactly a well kept secret that you harbored no love or loyalty to the Zen'in.
But that? That wasn’t just a culling. You ripped them to fucking shreds. Tore through flesh and bone, stood there soaked in their blood while burning their estate down to ash.
And you felt nothing.
The thought alone makes bile crawl up your throat.
But what really haunts you isn’t the carnage. It isn’t the bodies. It’s what you felt while you were doing it.
You liked it.
No....
Don’t lie to yourself, you didn’t just like it.
You fucking loved it.
You loved the feeling of unrestrained power. Seeing the fear in their eyes as you tore their world apart. Wiping those taunting smiles off their faces as you burned it to the fucking ground.
Thrived on that euphoric rush.
And gods curse you, you never wanted it to end.
And that's what terrifies you more than anything.
A shudder shoots up your spine, leaving you hugging yourself tighter, almost in a subconscious gesture to hold whats left of your fractured psyche together.
You dig your fingers into the meat of your arms, curling your nails in until all you can focus on is the sting.
Distract yourself. Wiggle your damn toes even. Anything to quiet the incessant noise in your head.
You lift your eyes, wandering your gaze along the walls where over the top tapestries hang. Each piece of artwork stitched to depict a different scene.
Great clashing battles. Gods towering over men. Monsters devouring armies.
Very comforting.
You scoff bitterly and turn your head.
An unlit hibachi sits in the corner, a small pile of coals stacked neatly right beside it. And just off to the side is a large solid desk, the dark, polished wood catching on the daylight spilling in through the open shōji.
Luxury. So much blatant luxury.
You take a deep breath as your stomach drops. There is only one man who would surround himself as so.
This isn’t my room. This is Sukuna’s.
Right.
He was there. He came for me.
Your eyes widen as the last missing remnants of the night come rushing back. Furrowing your brow, you glance down, stunned to find your breasts free to the wild.
That's strange...?
You're as naked as the day you were born, but all the wounds are gone.
The arrow punctures. The bruising across your chest, the fractured ribs. The sword lacerations.
All gone.
Nothing left but the smooth expanse of your own skin, minus the angry red welts across your chest, left behind by your own desperate clawing. Running a hand through your hair, you sink back into the bedding, exhaling heavily as your mind races against another intrusive thought.
Glancing down, your eyes start drifting curiously over your own flesh once more, swallowing over the lump forming in your throat.
Wait.
When did I bathe myself? Did I bathe myself...?
Oh gods no...
Did Sukuna bathe me while I was asleep!?
The thought leaves you nearly retching. Oh gods, the very notion of his hands on your unconscious body steals the very warmth from your blood as you shift nervously, sitting up straighter.
Suddenly something warm and smooth, brushes over your skin. Glancing down, you pinch up some of the silk, rolling it idly between your fingertips as your gaze drifts over the black haori draped across your body.
It's huge.
Like obnoxiously huge.
Clearly belonging to someone of a much greater stature.
The moment that thought finishes, you're hit hard with another wave of vertigo. Sucking in a deep breath through your nose, you shift on your bum to wrap the haori tighter around yourself, call it the shield of modesty against the chill in the air.
Curling tighter into the silk, your nose wrinkles as a musky scent suddenly wraps around you.
Smoke and incense...
And the faint smell of sweat.
It coats your skin, your hair, and invades your lungs with every breath. A scent that is alluring in the way a beautiful, poisonous flower can be alluring. Dangerous in the way you reach for its pretty thorns, even when you know it will kill you.
Just like him.
You glance over your legs tangled in the silk, then over the futon, the bedding, your chest tightening as something ugly starts to stir.
You’re in his bed. Wrapped in his haori. Under his roof. Wearing his scent like a goddamn brand.
Confusion comes first. Then disgust. Self loathing to top it all off.
But beneath it all? There's something else. A traitorous, steady throbbing in your lower belly that feels like a second heartbeat, your skin flushing hot as it aches.
You hate it. You hate that your body is craving him like this.
Pathetic.
I can't allow myself to show such weakness again. To let him drag me into such a precarious situation.
I can’t do it.
I won't.
You rub a hand down your tired face with a huff, your shoulders sagging as you find yourself zoning out on the far wall.
He really is the WORST kind of monster. Sadistic. Cruel. A right bastard hellbent on destruction and chaos.
And yet?
Your cheeks burn hot as you pull the haori tighter around yourself only to flinch, wincing when a sting prickles near your throat. You slip the silk down just enough to bare your shoulder, frowning at the darkening bruises circling an angry bite mark.
What the hell...?
Tentatively, you trace your fingers over the indent of teeth, biting your bottom lip with a wince. The skin is so bloody tender and swollen, leaving your jaw ticking from the way Sukuna had so ruthlessly branded them into your flesh.
You drop your head into your hand, exhaling a slow, shaky breath as your guts twist into a knot.
Gods above, why did I do that? Why did I let such weakness lapse my judgement...?
"Ugh." You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as another flush of heat stains your cheeks.
You can still feel him.
The taste of his tongue. The way it felt in your mouth, rolling against yours, the wet heat of it demanding all of you until you couldn’t breathe without him.
The feel of his hands. The way they'd gripped you so possessively, hauling you flush against his hard chest. The way his fingers dug into your curves, the sting of his nails trailing welts into your skin.
And his cock. The way he had pressed it between your thighs, grinding the heavy length against you until all you could do was cling to him, lost in yourself as he rutted like an animal in heat.
You press your hand flat against your lower belly, trying to quell the traitorous ache as the memory assaults all five of your senses like an uninvited guest, each one more intense than the last.
You didn't stop him.
That’s whats eating away at you.
Fuck!
You can still smell him. His sweat, the smoke, the goddamn blood that coated his body when he pinned you against that charred beam.
Still taste the metallic tang and ash on his tongue, your lips throbbing from the memory as he devoured you like a starving beast. But it wasn't the way he kissed you, nor even the memory of his breath on your skin that's leaving you hot and bothered.
It was his words.
"I'll be your first and your last."
"Your body and your soul."
"Your pleasure and your pain."
"It all belongs to me."
His declaration to the world, like you have no fucking choice in the matter.
Your pulse races in your veins as you squeeze your thighs together, chewing your bottom lip as the throbbing in your core intensifies, your inner walls contracting in waves like a heartbeat.
You don’t even know how to explain it.
It’s like your body is aching for something just out of reach, hunting for a relief you don’t know how to give.
But you sure as hell won't seek it from him.
You suck in a hiss through your teeth, clenching your thighs even tighter until the muscles shake. Gods, your skin feels too tight. Too hot. Every nerve lit up, demanding something you're nowhere near equipped to process, let alone understand.
Truly, it’s fucking maddening.
The way your body is slowly turning on you, abandoning pride, logic, and any and all common sense. All to reach for a monster who threatens to destroy you for some kind of sick amusement.
You bite the inside of your cheek, cause really, that's all you can do to keep yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs. That, or tearing your own damn hair out like a madwoman.
Just anything to release all this pent up frustration and confusion festering inside of you.
But like a cruel twist of fate, the room decides to tilt sideways, leaving you woozy and your stomach lurching. You fall back onto the futon with a groan, feeling no less exasperated as you stare up at the wooden ceiling above you.
Despite the room spinning, you force your focus to trail along the beams, using them as a distraction to steady the throbbing behind your eyes.
This is beyond exhausting.
And truthfully?
It feels like you’ve been run over by a herd of horses. Your limbs are heavy. Your mind is sluggish with brain fog. Even frustration takes too much effort than you can give right now.
So all you want is sweet, sweet sleep.
No dreams, no emotions, just the kind of deep slumber that pulls you under and keeps you there. A few hours where your body is forced to shut up. Where it can’t ache, can’t crave, can’t betray you.
Where your mind isn’t making you relive the same humiliating thoughts.
You close your eyes, letting yourself sink heavier into the bedding, basking in the coolness of the sheets against your feverish skin.
It doesn't take long for your heart to return to its resting rate, the ache in your skull easing as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. And much to your relief, the vertigo begins to subside when your blood pressure settles, exhaling a nice, easy breath.
Sukuna’s scent envelops you from all around, permeating from the pillow where your head rests, clinging to the haori draped around your form.
But you’re too sleepy to fight it, too drained to muster the energy to be repulsed by it. Sighing, you turn your head slightly on the pillow.
Your breathing evens out as your body goes slack, twitching once as you slip closer towards your REM cycle.
But of course, in this cursed place? Such peace is always a fleeting joy.
An eerie sensation prickles at the back of your neck, the fine hairs standing on end as your spidey senses start to fire off.
It's a feeling you know all too well.
Someone is watching you.
Your eyes snap open, your body tensing as you slowly lift your head. Your breath hitches the moment your eyes land on him, bolting upright as you clutch the haori to your front.
There, lounging in the corner of the room, is Sukuna.
You curse yourself silently for not noticing sooner. For letting your damn guard down.
The moment your gaze meets his hooded one, the air goes still.
His torso is bare as usual, a habit you’re starting to notice he favors as your eyes betray you first, drifting over his muscular pecs then arms, noticing the lack of grime.
Well...
At least he bathes.
Sukuna tilts his head, arching a brow as he watches your eyes follow along with the thick line of the tattoo running down the right side of his chest.
Gods, you'd be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit this man's body is sculpted like what you picture a gods would look like.
And fuck, does it piss you off to admit.
Your eyes drift lower to find he's wearing his usual hakama, the loose black fabric tied low on his hips and exposing the sharp grooves of his pelvis, the lines dipping beneath the waistband.
Flicking your eyes up, they land right on his tousled pink hair, some of the longer strands falling across his forehead to frame the duality of his facial features in a way that is both wild and strangely striking.
He's reclining back against the wall with one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out in front of him. His upper pair of hands are folded behind his head, while his lower right arm hangs casually, clutching a rolled up, bloodied piece of parchment, tapping it idly against his shin.
All the while, those damning red eyes are staring right into yours as the corner of his mouth curls up into a smirk.
You shift uncomfortably as his gaze trails lower over the exposed sections of your body, leaving you pulling the haori tighter around yourself as you glare back at him
But that mask of indifference is betraying nothing of his thoughts, much to your dismay.
It's easier to react to his antics when I know they're coming.
But this? This uncertainty? Makes it all the more unsettling.
You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry as you force the question past your lips.
"How long was I unconscious?" you murmur, your voice cracking.
Sukuna tilts his head as he regards you casually, that devilish smirk of his growing and making your skin crawl.
"Hmph. How long?" he repeats, scratching lazily at his jaw. "You’ve been warming my bed for two days."
You can feel the blood draining from your face as your mouth falls open, your eyes dropping to stare at your lap.
Gods above. Two days...
I have been asleep in Sukuna's presence for two whole fucking days?!
The thought alone leaves you nauseous, your chest tightening from a rush of anxiety.
Sukuna clicks his tongue, lifting his chin as his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
"One more day," he muses, flashing you his canines in a wicked grin. "And I would have devoured you."
Your breath hitches, teeth gritting as your head snaps up, throwing him a glare. Because you know the bastard means every damn word.
"Your body, there is strength in it. Meat, too." Sukuna continues, meeting your disgust with amusement. "A rare thing, I wonder how sweet you'd taste on my tongue."
You swallow against the bile rising in the back of your throat as your face burns, your jaw ticking to the point of pain.
"Give me back my yukata," you hiss, vibrating with rage.
Sukuna grunts under his breath before shifting forward, resting his upper elbow on the chabudai to lean his temple against his fist with a bored look.
"And why should I?" he asks, flatly. "I have clothed you in silk finer than you deserve, and every time, you return it to me torn and soaked in blood."
You just scoff, shaking your head.
Yeah? And whose fault is that?
Sukuna's expression remains indifferent as he just watches you, his jaw ticking.
"In what life do you presume to make demands of me?" He hisses, narrowing his eyes. "After you were bold enough to steal what is mine and destroy it."
He casually waves the burnt, bloodied scroll in his hand, your eyes recognizing it immediately as the object you may have stolen, and subsequently through no fault of your own, may have ruined.
He arches a brow, his cold eyes never leaving yours as he tosses it onto the tea table. You swallow thickly, watching what’s left of the ancient scroll unfurl, bits of the burnt, brittle paper breaking off to add insult to injury.
What does it matter? I learned everything I needed to know from it anyway.
Sukuna suddenly shifts to sit up straighter, pulling you from your thoughts. You lift your head, stiffening as he raises his hand and beckons for you with two fingers.
"Come here."
Your eyes widen as adrenaline floods your system, your gaze darting to the door and back again as your brain tries to formulate any kind of rational escape plan.
Do I run? No, he would be on me in a minute.
I could fight...
But without my cursed energy and technique, I'd be as good as dead against his.
Dammit!
Begrudgingly, you decide you have no choice but to play along, and frankly, you don't want to give him any ideas by lying on his bed. Grumbling in frustration, you get up, thankfully the haori provides more than enough silk to preserve your modesty as you cross the tatami, dragging your feet.
You get about halfway before planting in place, regarding him irritably. He lifts his chin to meet your disdainful look with amusement, gesturing once more with a crook of his finger.
"Closer, my little General."
Your blood boils as you exhale a shaky breath; you're so pissed off your body is nearly vibrating. Your sore legs feel wobbly like a newborn lamb as they carry you a few more steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
You halt at the end of the chabudai, glaring down at Sukuna as you clutch the haori tighter around your shoulders.
He simply smiles up at you, reclining back while cocking a brow.
"I never told you to stop."
You grit your teeth as you avert your gaze, forcing your feet to close the rest of the distance until you come to stand directly in front of the bastard.
He hums low, staring into the side of your face as you press your lips into a thin line. Gods, hearing that smug sound leaves you utterly livid inside.
Your nostrils flare with each breath as the silence stretches on, leaving only the knots in your gut to keep you company.
"Hnng...!"
You grunt, flinching as Sukuna’s hand suddenly latches onto your wrist and yanks you down roughly. You land against his solid chest with a thump before he pulls you into his lap, the insides of your thighs burning from the stretch.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you scramble to pull the haori back over your left shoulder where it slipped, shielding your skin from his hungry stare. Arching back, you press your other palm flat against his chest to put some much needed breathing room between you.
But Sukuna just laughs, the deep sound rumbling through your fingers as his lower hands find your hips, kneading the soft flesh as he holds you in place. Another arm wraps around your waist, pulling you snug to his front as he rests his temple against his fist.
You grit your teeth as the heat of his skin sears into your body, moving with each of his breaths as your neck flushes hot while you look away.
"So, my little General," he murmurs. "Why not show me how you intend to atone for ruining my property."
Instantly, your blood boils as you snap your glare to his detached one, channeling every ounce of discipline you possess to keep from spitting in his infuriatingly arrogant face.
"Fuck you," you hiss. "I don't owe you anything."
"Is that so?" You wince as he digs his nails into your hips. "Because from where I stand, you have amassed quite the debt, and I have yet to see it repaid."
Sukuna leans in closer to regard you coldly, your gaze flicking unwittingly over the right side of his face. The only thing you can think of to describe the cursed flesh is something akin to an old scar, the large angular eyes narrowing on yours.
His jaw starts to tick as he grips your chin.
"Your life, for one. I could have left you there to bleed out in the ruins of the Zen'in estate," he hisses. "Or I could have let them capture you, where they would have tortured and defiled you before burning your corpse until all that remained was bone and ash."
Your guts twist into knots, your heart racing from the indignation.
"That may be so," you spit out. "But I only took that scroll so I could learn what I need to sever whatever wretched tether binds me to the likes of you."
You strain against his hold, teeth bared as you fix him with a nasty look.
"You fucking monster."
Sukuna hums, indifference settling over his expression as he leans back to regard you. Yet you catch it, the barest flicker of something flashing across his face before his favourite patronizing smirk makes its appearance.
Your swallow thickly, unease twisting your insides raw. Your heart starts racing as Sukuna just stares into your eyes, the silence stretching on to leave you fidgeting before he suddenly throws his head back in a fit of laughter.
You stiffen, narrowing your eyes as your teeth grit together, but Sukuna only carries on, his hands sliding around to grip your bum, his thumbs massaging into your flesh.
"Monster?" He growls in between breathy laughs. "I find that quite amusing you still have the gall to be so pious and self righteous."
He clicks his tongue once, brushing his fingers from your chin before gripping your jaw roughly.
"So quick to accuse me, my precious little General," he murmurs. "But it was not I who slaughtered the Zen’in like cattle."
He grunts low, tilting your head up as you suck in a shaky breath.
"It was not I who butchered the head of the clan. Nor was it I who cut down his young boy in a blind fit of rage."
He smiles devilishly, leaning in to brush his lips along the groove of your throat, leaving you shuddering in disgust.
"No, my sweet General," he breathes against your skin. "It was you who destroyed the Zen'in..."
He leans back once more, but close enough his breath is hot on your face as you jerk against his grip, gritting your teeth.
"It was you." He murmurs. "Who slaughtered her own kin mercilessly. It was you who burned their estate to ash."
A sob slips out that you try to mask with a gasp as you squeeze your eyes shut. But his words, the blunt truth of them all is like a poison, seeping into every fractured part of you until what little sense of self you have left starts to rot beneath it.
You want to deny it, you really do. To scream into his face that he’s wrong. That there is no fucking world where you're anything like him.
A monster.
But the memories are there, as real as they are undeniable, lodged into the deepest recesses of your brain.
The rivers of blood that bathed you. The terrified screams of agony. The rotten stench of death that permeated the air as your chains ripped through skin and flesh and bone.
You cover your ears with another gasp, panting as your body starts to shiver, pressure pounding behind your eyes as your mind becomes swarmed by the flashbacks.
The sights. The sounds. The smells.
How could I let this happen? How did I fall this low?
Lose all control?
A low sob manages to worm its way out as you drop your face into your hands. Your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe as the guilt and rage collide in their warpath inside you, tearing at that last shred of your old self.
The one you’re so desperately clinging to.
Sukuna tilts his head, arching a brow before he reaches up to pull your hands away from your face, gripping your chin to force your eyes back to his.
You're unable to hide anymore.
He’s seen you.
Truly seen you.
And even now, his gaze strips you bare, peeling away every layer, every defence, until nothing is left but the ugliest parts of you.
The parts you so frantically try to hide.
"Look at me," he hisses, curling his fingers in deeper as one of his lower hands drifts to your back, trailing the tip of his nail slowly up your spine.
You're breathing hard through your nose, but refuse to meet him until his hand makes its way up to the side of your head, tangling into your hair to wrench you closer as he dips into the shell of your ear.
"So I ask you now, my little General," he murmurs, his breath hot against your cheek. "What is a monster from a murderer?"
He rests his brow to your temple, smirking.
"What separates the two," he continues, "when both are driven by the hunger to take life? When both crave blood and chaos?"
He brushes his nose along the curve of your throat as he inhales deeply, tasting the heat of your pulse through the scent of your skin. A low sound rumbles from deep within his chest as he tilts your head the other way, exposing the curve of your jaw.
"To surrender to bloodlust," he breathes low, "to let massacre sate what restraint could not, that is what makes a murderer."
Then his mouth finds your ear, nipping at the lobe.
"But when you crave it," he hisses. "When you truly enjoy it? That’s what makes a monster, my sweet little General."
The moment his words reach you, something inside you breaks. Something you've worked so hard to build. And with it another sob tears from your throat as hot, salty tears begin to trail down your cheeks.
You drop your forehead onto his shoulder, desperate to escape out from under his piercing gaze, to run from the truth as a surge of overwhelming emotion constricts your chest.
Anger. Remorse. Shame. Rage.
Each one crashes into the other until they become impossible to discern.
You're left panting between uncontrollable sobs, as more tears drip down onto Sukuna's bare chest. All the while, he only watches you from the corner of his eye, chuckling low as his fingers roam over your waist and hips.
You suck in another shaky breath, burrowing your face deeper into the crook of his neck.
All you want to do is hide. To disappear into his arms. To just run away from everyone and everything that's eating you alive from the inside out.
All of Sukuna’s games, his manipulations, they have twisted you, warped your mind and body into something unrecognizable. And even now, even as he holds you against him under the false guise of tenderness, all you can feel is anger.
I am not him.
Survival is not the same as indulgence. I don’t kill mindlessly.
I had no choice, they would have come for me eventually.
It was them or me…
And I chose me.
You lift your head, blinking the wetness from your lashes, your cheeks red and puffy as you grit your teeth to glare at him.
"I am nothing like you!"
Sukuna meets your hardened stare with amusement, flashing his canines in a wicked grin.
"Nothing like me?" he drones, chuckling low. "You lie to yourself, my little General."
He threads his fingers through your hair to cup the side of your head as you try to jerk away, only for him to fist a handful and hold you in place.
"I felt your hunger. You enjoyed it. You loved the power, loved watching their bodies tear apart under your cursed technique."
He wrenches your head to the side, dipping once more into the hollow of your throat, murmuring against your skin.
"The blood. The violence. The chaos and destruction, it excites you."
You hate that the bastard’s words resonate within you. Hate that they call out to the ugliest, dirtiest parts of your heart. The parts walled behind denial.
A fresh wave of shame crashes against those walls, threatening to break through. You grit your teeth, swallowing against the contempt churning in your guts.
You are the General.
You fought for your life since you were a child. Fought to rebuild yourself anew within the monastery’s walls. Fought to build your fortitude from the ground up, stone by stubborn stone.
And you’ll reinforce that shit before you let it collapse.
You arch back, your muscles tensing as Sukuna cocks a brow, regarding you with that wry kind of amusement.
The kind that never fails to make your blood boil.
"Mmm, I see your mind working," he muses, utterly indifferent. "You’re crawling back into that safe little haven of denial."
His hands find your hips once more, curling his fingers in until you wince as his third arm flexes tighter to hold you flush, narrowing his cold eyes.
"How pathetic."
"Tch." You click your tongue in disgust, trying to wiggle out of his lap, growing more frustrated by the second. But the bastard isn't granting you an inch. He slides his hand around to cup the back of your head, forcing your gaze to stay on his as he glares into your eyes.
"You know full well the truth is going to catch up to you soon, my sweet General."
You return his stare with a bitter one of your own, pushing against his chest.
"And what truth is that exactly?" you hiss, gritting your teeth.
The apathy in his expression lightens as he flashes you a devilish grin, lifting his chin.
"That you desire strength above all else," he muses. "Because you measure yourself and your enemies by it."
His hand drifts from the back of your head to wrap around your throat, your pulse bounding against his fingers.
"Because you know strength is the only thing that matters in this world."
You swallow against his grip, breathing hard through your nose, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden as his eyes dip to your lips.
"I’ve seen into your heart, my little General," he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. "I know you want to lay waste to anyone who challenges you, to destroy them until nothing remains of your enemies. Until there is no one left who can stand against you."
He leans in until his face is inches from yours, making your breath hitch.
"I know this because you’re just like me," he breathes, his eyes lifting back to yours as he tilts his head. "You want exactly what I want."
You press your lips into a thin line as all hell breaks loose inside you while those red depths bore into your gold ones. So intensely, it leaves your stomach knotting, your lungs tight, your blood pressure amping up.
And beneath it all?
That traitorous ache between your thighs. The flush in your skin.
Enough of this bullshit.
"Hmph...!" you grunt, meaning to pull away, only for his upper hands to grip your wrists and yank them behind you, pinning your front flush to his.
"What the hell are you...?"
You suddenly wince, flinching against the ache in your joints as he pulls down on your hands, forcing your body to arch before he adjusts, holding both your wrists in one large hand against the small of your back.
The haori parts open at your front, revealing the skin between your breasts down to your navel as you suck in a breath, jerking against his grip.
"You crave it, don't you?" Sukuna murmurs, running his palm up your sternum. "Chaos. Desire. Bloodshed. You find existence boring without it, don’t you?"
You grit your teeth, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks as you watch his eyes roam over your exposed skin.
"Stop denying yourself what is already in your nature and follow your desires," he murmurs, lifting his eyes to yours once more as indifference settles over his expression. "Stop denying that you know I am the only one who can give it to you."
Your breath hitches as goosebumps erupt across your skin, your body suddenly stiffening as he shifts his hips, drawing his knees up. The insides of your thighs burn as your weight slides further down into his lap, earning a grunt from him as he drops his gaze to your sternum.
Slowly, he parts the haori wider, slipping it off your shoulders to pool around your hips. You grit your teeth as he tilts his head, his hooded gaze trailing over your breasts, your nipples hardening from the chill in the air as your breaths quicken.
You pull against his grip by reflex to cover yourself, your face burning as you glare down at him. But it’s useless. His hand is an iron shackle of flesh and bone.
"What are you..."
"Enough." Sukuna cuts you off, snaking his hand around your ribs. "I grow bored of your tedious stubbornness."
He glides his palm up your back to your shoulder blades, pressing you closer as his hooded eyes find yours.
"I'm going to show you what you want," he murmurs. "I'm going to make you feel good in a way that no one else ever will."
Your eyes widen as his heated gaze fixes on your left breast. You want to pull away. Spit a nasty insult. Scream at him to keep his fucking hands off you.
Instead? You freeze.
Watching as he dips his head, your lower belly tensing as you suck in shaky breath while his hot breath fans across your skin.
"W-wait..." you croak, but the word barely gets out before he takes your nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. Instantly, your body moves on its own accord, arching into the new sensation before your mind can even catch up.
A soft moan slips out before you can stop it.
Fuck...!
Your body starts burning hotter from the different sensations as he swirls his tongue roughly around your nipple, then sucks, the alternating pressure and tingling leaving your thighs squeezing around his hips.
Your eyes drift closed as he rakes his nails down your spine, making you shiver, your hands curling into fists as he groans against your skin.
"Hmmh..." you pant as he bites down on your areola, making you jerk from the sudden sting before he soothes it with his tongue, leaving warm smears of saliva trailing down your breast.
Sukuna chuckles against your skin before leaning back just far enough to bask in his mess. Licking his lips with a look so hungry, it's nothing short of wanting to devour you whole as he dips back down to take your other nipple into his mouth.
You purse your lips, fighting your damnedest to keep your breath steady. Your body twitches beneath the stings and pressure as he bites and sucks your sensitive flesh raw.
His hand glides around your ribcage to cup your other breast, alternating between kneading it roughly and toying with the nipple between his fingers. The dual sensations have you leaning even further into his touch, chasing more of.....
Gods you don't even know what you want.
Just everything.
Another guttural groan rumbles in his throat as he pants against your skin, trailing his tongue lower before biting down hard into the curve of your breast. You cry out, bucking your hips as a sharp sting radiates through your chest.
A warm sensation follows as bloody spit dribbles down, the pain slowly subsiding into a dull throb as Sukuna teases the wound with his tongue.
Gods, your mind is screaming at you to feel disgusted. To bend down and rip his jugular out with your teeth. Just do fucking something!
But your body?
It's burning so hot. Your heart is racing so fast. Every nerve ending feels strung out like a live wire as your lungs pant for oxygen. And beneath it all, your lower belly is fucking throbbing.
Aching desperately for more.
More of what? You don’t even fucking know. You have no idea what you want or what you need.
It’s maddening.
All you know is you need it. And giving that power to Sukuna?
Terrifying.
But even with those thoughts circulating around in your mind, you don't even realize you're grinding your clit against his hard length until his fingers dig into your skin to hold you still.
He grunts, bucking his hips once against you, leaving you groaning softly as your inner walls throb painfully. Chuckling low, Sukuna suddenly lets go of your wrists and pulls away, tilting his head as he regards your flushed, panting face with a smirk nothing short of smug.
You grit your teeth, hissing in frustration as your eyes flutter open. You jerk once against his grip, chasing that foreign sensation between your thighs, only to have him pull down harder on your hips, anchoring you in place.
He clicks his tongue, licking a smear of your blood from his bottom lip.
"Look at you," he growls, arching a brow. "Such a sensitive and needy little thing, aren’t you?"
You grit your teeth as he laughs, stiffening as he trails his fingers down your sternum to your navel, stopping just short of your clit to press down with his thumb; teasing the area with the faintest pressure to send another aching contraction through your lower belly.
You buck against his grip once more, earning another laugh as his hooded gaze drinks in your soft curls and slick pussy. He hums low before trailing his thumb down the last bit of the way, circling your clit with a few slow, strokes.
Instantly your breath hitches, tension building in your walls as they clench down on nothing. The sensitive nerves fire off to release waves of heat rushing through your blood, flushing you hot.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to think of something. Birds. Trees. Breaking your own damn finger. Fucking anything that can snap you out of this spell he’s pulling you under.
Sukuna leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw until his lips find the shell of your ear, making your breath hitch.
"I told you to stop denying yourself, didn't I?" he murmurs, nipping your earlobe. "Look how wound up you are. I’ve barely even touched you yet, and you’re already falling apart."
You can feel your cheeks redden.
Shame? Embarrassment? Arousal?
Who knows, but it's enough to remind you how much of an insufferable bastard he is, and so, you try to squirm out of his lap.
But he just hums low, the sound rumbling through his chest as his hand drifts back up your belly, tracing the curve of your waist before his thumb, still wet with your slick, kneads into your ribs just below your left breast.
Leaning back once more, he stares down at you with that unreadable expression, smearing the blood around the teeth marks over your nipple. You bite your bottom lip to stifle the wince as your gaze unwittingly falls to the hard ridges of his chest.
You have no idea what’s come over you as your eyes blatantly drift over his pecs, watching the cords of muscle flex and shift with each of his breaths. Pressing your lips together, your gaze trails lower, following along with one of the tattoos as it ends just above his abs.
You feel a rush of heat up your neck as you take in his entire body, the hard ridges of muscle forged and defined by years of battle, your eyes flicking down to his hakama, lingering on the way it sits low on his hips.
And fucking hell. The sight leaves your mouth watering.
Sukuna tilts his head casually, the corners of his mouth twitching once as his hooded stare follows the brazen path of yours. Flashing you a devilish smirk, he leans back on his upper set of hands, the new position making his massive frame seem even larger, like he’s tempting you.
Or a test.
One that your restraint is failing.
Miserably.
"Go on," he goads. "Touch me."
Your face burns as you rip your eyes away, cursing yourself for being so painfully shameless in your gawking.
What is wrong with me...?!
Sukuna shifts his hips deliberately, humming in contentment as you fall forward, your breasts pressing flush to his pecs.
"Don't turn coy on me now my little General," he murmurs, reaching up with his lower hand to pinch your chin, pulling your gaze back to his. "Your desire is obvious, so satisfy it. Touch all of me."
You chew your bottom lip as you sit up straighter while Sukuna merely regards you with that usual look of indifference. Dropping your gaze, your breath hitches before you hold it as you slowly lift your hands.
He tilts his head, still watching with that bored stare as your hands reach halfway before you clench them into fists, hesitating as the sudden rational part of your brain screams at you to stop.
To take advantage of him lounging and flee. But your turncoat of a body ignores it, too enthralled by the curiosity of what he feels like.
Curiosity wins.
Slowly, you fan your fingers out, leaning forward to press them flat into his chest.
Gods above, his skin is burning hot.
Swallowing thickly, you slowly glide your hands up his pecs, feeling the muscles pull taut with each of his breaths, twitching beneath the scrape of your nails as they explore towards his collarbones.
You keep your eyes glued down as you feel his gaze lingering on your face. Truthfully? You're so caught up with admiring how beautiful he really is.
Smooth, tanned skin. Hard cuts of muscle. The faint musk of his sweat. All of it leaves your stomach flipping with that strange, fluttering tension.
Sukuna hums low as he rolls his shoulders back, opening himself to you as your fingers trail up with the tattoos toward the curve of his throat.
Brushing your fingers over his pulsing carotid, a sudden, surreal kind of feeling stirs in your mind. To have him laid bare before you in such a manner, almost vulnerable.
Well...
Maybe vulnerable isn’t really the word.
No. The word that comes to you as you take in every inch of his powerful frame...is monster.
A god evolved into the perfect killing machine.
And here you are, with every part of your intuition, every drive, every instinct screaming at you to run, that you're in danger. And yet? There’s a disconnect between your body and mind, rational thought buried beneath the thrill.
You fight to keep your breathing steady through your nose as you trail the tips of your nails back down, brushing between his ribs until you find the thick muscle of his lats.
All the while, he tilts his head to regard you casually, flashing you that irritating smirk.
"Satisfied?"
You rip your hands away, averting your gaze as your cheeks flush red.
What the fuck am I doing?
Have I completely lost my mind...?
Sukuna’s deep laugh cuts through your thoughts, mocking enough to replace any sense of embarrassment with annoyance as your glare snaps back to him.
But before you can even spit out a retort, his hands are grabbing your wrists and yanking your palms flat against his lower abdomen.
"Did I not tell you to touch all of me?" he murmurs, the muscles in his forearms bulging as they keep you from jerking away.
You press your lips together, feeling your face burn all over again as Sukuna guides your hands down, until your fingertips are brushing over the raging hard outline straining against his hakama.
Your breath hitches as he rolls his hips up, pressing your palms flat against his throbbing cock. Gods it's so hot, every vein pulsing beneath, and the sheer size of him has your chest tightening and your heart racing to the point you can barely breathe.
You've never seen a man's cock before, let alone touched one.
But feeling Sukuna's now, even through the silk of his hakama...he's fucking massive. You recoil with a grunt, managing to slip your hands out his grip as he throws his head back and laughs.
You grit your teeth, vibrating with rage as he carries on with his little reverie of your humiliation, his lower hands finding the tops of your thighs to idly knead along the muscle.
"That’s so fucking rich," he taunts. "The great, fearsome General loses all her nerve at the feel of my cock."
You're downright seething at this point, losing all sense of control as you haul off and smack him across the face.
CRACK!
Sukuna's head snaps to the side, leaving you panting as you relish in the stinging red handprint forming on his skin.
He just blinks, staring blankly at the wall. After a few seconds, he slowly lifts his hand to work his jaw back and forth, all mirth draining from his face as cold indifference hardens his gaze.
You stiffen, but don't back down when his eyes find yours. You, the world, everything is held hostage in those piercing red depths as you stare one another down.
Still, your blood is boiling, enough to fuel your hate as you cock your fist back and swing again, but he catches it before you can land another good hit.
"You feisty little bitch," he hisses, twisting your arm to pin your hand at your lower back, wrenching you flat against him once more. You glare up at him in disgust, straining against his hold with a nasty scowl.
"Get your fucking hands off me, you arrogant bastard!"
Sukuna just huffs out a dry laugh, tilting his head as he blatantly trails his stare over the fire burning in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the heave of your chest as each breath presses your breasts against him.
He clicks his tongue, tangling his fingers into your hair to grip the side of your head as you try to jerk away.
"Denying yourself again, " he murmurs, leaning in close. "It's pathetic."
"I don't need anything," you spit, clenching your jaw. "Especially from the likes of you!"
Sukuna hums, tilting his head as his eyes flick down to your lips.
"You say that," he hisses, the muscle in his jaw ticking. "But I find your body has always been more honest than that filthy mouth."
"Fuck yo—mmph...!"
He swallows your curse as he captures your lips, wasting no time to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Your breathing turns heavy through your nose as his wet heat invades your senses, burning you up from the inside out while he wraps his lower arms around your waist.
You try to wrench your head again but he simply groans, rolling his tongue against yours, spit slicking your chins as that tension twists in your lower belly. You're hit with a rush of lightheadedness as you feel his heart beating steadily against your chest, feel him grinding his cock against your aching clit.
You suck in another breath before biting down hard on his lip. He rips his head away with a growl, glaring down at you as a bead of blood dribbles down his chin. You’re panting, body shaking with rage as you immediately follow it up by spitting a fat glob in his face.
"Fuck you," you seethe past your clenched teeth. "I told you I don’t want anything from a sadistic fucking bastard like you!"
Sukuna slowly lifts his thumb, wiping the spit off his cheek as he stares down at you with nothing short of contempt, like you're a lesser being. Still, he doesn't let you go, even as you thrash against him.
"Sadistic, am I?" He murmurs, the cold indifference in his tone matching his expression.
You part your lips to spit out another nasty retort, only to choke on the words as he suddenly heaves his body forward, slamming you onto your back across the chabudai. Crying out when the back of your head cracks against the wood as he pins you beneath him, the table creaking under your combined weight.
You let out a soft groan, squeezing your eyes shut as your head spins, your mind lost in a daze while Sukuna digs his fingers into the backs of your thighs, wrenching them open to settle his hips between them.
Instantly, you suck in a gasp as your hip joints burn, stretching painfully wide to accommodate his sheer mass. You turn your head to the side, blinking your vision into focus as Sukuna dips his head down into your throat, inhaling your scent.
"Come now," he breathes against your skin, rocking his hips against yours, grinding his still painfully hard length against your throbbing pussy. "Do not insult me by feigning modesty. Not anymore, not to me."
You gasp, squeezing your thighs around him, panting as that tension starts to build in your lower belly.
"I can smell your arousal," he rasps, nipping at your bounding pulse. "I can practically taste it on my fucking tongue."
His lower hands slide around your hips, digging his fingers in to roughly knead the flesh of your ass.
"You call me sadistic and yet, you're already so wet for me," he growls, lifting his head to stare down at you through his hooded gaze.
"Admit it my little General, admit you're like me. You crave indulgence. You want what you want, pleasure, blood, violence. The freedom to follow your whims."
He grips your jaw as you buck your hips in one final pitiful excuse for a protest, but the tension is unbearable, your body is wound so fucking tight you want to scream.
Sukuna groans from the friction, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck as he answers by grinding his cock against that little bundle of nerves, driving you crazy.
"You need me," he says roughly, turning his head to press his brow to your temple. "Not your pathetic ideals. Not your precious discipline, but relief. So just let go, you stubborn woman."
You hum low in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut. But it's too much. Not enough. Torn between less and more...
You need more.
"Just make it stop," you finally breathe, turning your face away from him. "This feeling. I can’t..."
He stiffens, lifting his head to stare down at you, his chest heaving as his jaw ticks.
Slowly his hand drifts from your jaw down your sternum, brushing his fingers down the length of your arm until he finds your wrist.
His other hand does the same before he dips his head to the ridge above your collarbone, biting and teasing the muscle with his mouth as he guides your hands above your head.
You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your lips together to stifle the low sounds in your throat as a shiver races up your spine.
Anger, confusion, hate.
All of those emotions twist your gut into knots. But beneath it all? Something stronger is taking root. Something that consumes your mind and body whole.
Need.
Sukuna groans against your skin, sliding his lower hands around from your ass to dig his fingers into the meat of your outer thighs, supporting your weight. His upper right hand drifts down your arm to palm your breast, kneading the tender flesh while the other still holds your wrists.
You arch into him, surrendering over every single coherent thought left to the raw, primal need burning through your body.
You’ve never been touched by a man before. Hell, you’ve never even seen one naked.
And now?
Now you’re drowning under the worst fucking monster alive while his mouth, his hands, his breath, the feeling of his hard muscles shifting against yours, all of it drags you under so fast you can’t even find the surface.
It’s too much.
So much more than you could have ever begun to imagine. Between his groans in your ear and the tingling pressure of his cock grinding against your clit, your brain damn near short circuits.
"Ah, you taste as sweet as I thought you would," Sukuna breathes, tracing his tongue down the length of your sternum, leaving a wet trail as he shifts to your left breast. "I could eat you whole."
You gasp as he bites your nipple, the sudden sting of pain making your body jolt beneath him as he circles it with the tip of his tongue.
You tip your head back as your eyes drift closed, focusing on the different sensations, breathing hard through your nose as thin beads of sweat break out along your hairline.
Sukuna glances up, drinking in your panting form, a slow, devilish smirk curling at the corner of his mouth before he dives back down to his feast. Biting and sucking along your ribcage, pulling every little breathy sound he can from you, feeling the shifts of your muscles and the tension beneath your skin while you melt into him.
"Hmph...!"
You grunt softly, your hands jerking once against his grip before you suck in a sharp hiss as he is bites into your waist, hard, drawing a fresh cry from your hoarse throat, followed by a warmth dribbling down your side.
Your eyes flutter open, brain in a fog as you glance down to the unruly head of pink hair trailing his tongue down the soft skin of your lower belly.
Swallowing thickly, your eyes widen as you take in the bloody saliva mess smeared across your skin, the bruises, the teeth marks, right as he pauses above your aching clit, close enough you can feel his hot breath.
Yet, despite it all, the tension in your insides leaves you desperate. Bucking your hips up blindly to guide his mouth, his fingers, his tongue...
Fuck, you don’t even know what you need.
Anything at this point.
Relief from the throbbing ache that’s burning you alive from the inside out.
Sukuna lifts his hooded gaze to yours, holding it with a sly smile as he runs his tongue slowly back up your stomach, before dipping over to bite into your waist once more with a groan, making you wince as more warmth trickles down your side.
He teases the wound with his tongue, lips and chin smeared red with bloodied saliva as he drifts over to rest his forehead against your hip, closing his eyes to just breath in your scent.
You swallow thickly as a ball of nerves twists in your guts, to the point you almost feel like this isn't real. Like a dream. Seeing the most destructive being to walk this earth, so at ease, draped over and lost in your body.
But then the quietest little voice in the back of your mind begs to ask the most fucked up question.
What if?
What if I listen to him? Just let my mind go this one time?
Give in to his words and use him? Could I come back?
Could I still be myself after everything?
Would Takeshi still look at me the same?
You fucking hate Sukuna, despise the very air he breathes. Yet a fucked up part of you wants him. You love the feel of his hands, his fingers, his tongue. The weight of his powerful body against yours...
It's fucking intoxicating.
Your breaths turn shaky as you try to level them out, your body restless, charged like a live wire while your heart pounds against your ribs. Yet you find your eyes drifting to the side of his face, unable to look away as your chest tightens.
He looks so serene. So relaxed, nestled against your hip as his lower hands continue to knead your outer thighs lazily.
Almost....beautiful? Regal in a sense.
You trail your gaze over the defined edge of his jaw, following along with the line of the tattoo just above. The corners of your eyes twitch once as you notice the pulsing at his temple, the light flush of red in his features, the tick in his jaw.
A strange satisfying feeling rushes through you then.
He's...
Restraining himself...?
Your breath hitches as Sukuna's eyes suddenly open, narrowing on you with a sidelong glance. You tense up as he lifts his head, capturing you with those red depths, his expression so utterly detached you have no damn idea what he's thinking right now.
And that scares the shit out of you.
"Hm, there it is. You still look upon me with restraint," he laughs, tilting his head as his gaze drifts down to your pussy. "Foolish woman, your flesh has already confessed what your tongue cannot."
He lifts his eyes, holding your gaze steadily as he drinks in the deep flush coloring your cheeks.
Gods above, it’s all too much. Too fast, too intense. You blink, tearing yourself away as you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs closed.
Sukuna just hums in annoyance as your lower belly tenses, sending a shiver down your spine. His lower hands grip your ankles while the upper ones hook into the backs of your knees, digging his fingers into your skin.
All four wrench you open roughly, leaving you burying your face in your hands.
"Oh no, my sweet little General," he hisses, reaching up to pull your hands away. "You don't get to hide from me now."
You keep your eyes squeezed shut, gritting your teeth as he leans down, using his thumb and forefinger to spread open your slick pussy. The teasing pressure instantly has your inner walls throbbing against the tension spreading throughout your lower belly.
Sukuna suddenly spits on your clit, spreading the hot saliva through your folds as your hands fly out to grip the edges of the chabudai. Your nails curl into the wood until it hurts, that aching pressure burning you up from the inside out.
"Look at me," he snaps, throwing your ankles over his shoulders before nipping your inner thigh, the sting making you jump.
You swallow between pants, feeling utterly undignified as you struggle with yourself, keeping your gaze averted as you cling to the last shreds of your pride.
You can't look at him. Not now. Not when it means you can no longer pretend this is just some feverish nightmare you're bound to wake up from any minute now.
Because seeing Sukuna towering above you between your legs, would cement the new reality that you've surrendered to this bastard. That you've let yourself succumb to him in the most vulnerable position of your life.
"I'm not going to ask again," Sukuna hisses, curling his nails into your skin, leaving you wincing. "Keep denying me your gaze, and I'll rip those pretty eyes from your skull. Then you may spend the rest of your pitiful life content in darkness."
Your eyes snap open, insult burying embarrassment as you turn your head to meet his contempt with a glare.
"That's better," he murmurs, flashing you a wicked smile. "Hate me, then. It makes no difference, you will see I am the only one you'll ever crave again."
Any insult dies on your tongue as Sukuna dips down, taking your aching pussy into his mouth.
A strangled gasp tears from your throat from the foreign heat of his tongue, your body tensing as your head lolls back against the table, biting your lower lip to stifle a moan.
Sukuna hums against your skin, nipping your clit to make you jerk with a gasp, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he lifts his head.
"Know this, my little General," he breathes, squeezing your thighs. "I'll be your one and only. There will be nothing after me."
You barely hear the words as your breathe hitches, pressing your palms into your eyes as he dips back down, sucking that aching bundle of nerves until you’re hips are bucking against his mouth.
Heat. Pressure. Friction. Teeth. Tongue.
An amalgamation of sensations that leaves your swollen pussy throbbing, your body so tense you feel on the verge of snapping in half as you arch, chasing everything he has to give.
What is this?
Gods...
It feels so fucking good.
Better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your brain draws blank after blank after blank as it reaches for sense, for reference, for anything familiar enough to name what you’re becoming lost in.
But this is something you have never experienced before in your life.
Sukuna groans, working your clit with flicks of his tongue, leaving you panting and your toes curling as the tension builds.
You’re so fucking wet, you can feel the mix of his saliva and your own slick trailing down the curves of your ass as you start grinding yourself against his mouth. He slides one of his hands up your thigh to press down on your stomach, holding your hips still as he continues to work you relentlessly.
Your breath hitches, muscles going rigid as a coiling tension starts winding tighter and tighter deep in your belly, leaving your inner walls throbbing.
Sukuna feels it too. You can tell by the way he presses down with his tongue, lapping and sucking at your clit even harder and faster. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, watching the way you writhe and contort beneath him, panting as you fight to keep your expression under control.
Your body is shaking now, the tension and pressure climbing higher and higher until it levels out into a plateau, leaving you bucking your hips trying to chase more.
"F-fuck..." you breathe. "Sukuna, make it... Just..."
Your words cut off with a frustrated groan as the tension inside your pussy teeters on the edge of something maddening, like a spring wound too tight and ready to snap at any moment.
But it needs more.
Your thighs are quivering against his fingers and every muscle in your belly flexes rigidly before Sukuna suddenly pulls away.
"N-no...!" you choke out, bucking your hips wildly, desperately seeking out his touch, his tongue, anything to relieve the painful throbbing as that deliciously beautiful coil starts to slip away.
Another strangled cry tears from your throat as a rush of heat surges through your bloodstream. You suck in a breath, scraping your nails through your hair in frustration.
All the while, Sukuna’s deep, mocking laugh fills the room as he shoves your calves off his shoulders. You squeeze your eyes shut, panting, your skin feeling like it’s on fire, your heart racing a mile a minute as every nerve ending from your womb to your clit is left raw and needy.
Sukuna suddenly shifts his weight onto the chabudai, bracing his forearm by your head as he presses his body flush to yours. He gazes down at you with a look nothing short of ravenous, his lips and chin smeared with your slick, before he captures your mouth.
You welcome his heat, moaning into the kiss as you taste yourself on his tongue, cut with the faint metallic hint of blood from his torn lip.
You don’t even hesitate, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively, digging your heels into the small of his back to press his cock against you, grinding your hips up to seek out any kind of friction, any relief for your aching cunt.
But he just chuckles low against your lips, breaking the kiss to glance down between you, panting as he drops his weight into his hips, pining you flat against the table.
It doesn't take long before those arrogant fucking eyes find yours once more as he smiles lopsidedly, watching as you grit your teeth while digging your nails into his ribs.
He licks his bottom lip before dipping his head down to find the shell of your ear.
"Look at you, so beautiful when you let yourself go," he rasps, brushing his nose against your skin. "Tell me what you need."
You’re breathless at this point as you shift your hands around to grip onto his shoulders, curling your fingers deep into the muscle.
"I don't know." You pant, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck, filling your lungs with his musk.
He clicks his tongue, raking his nails down your waist until he feels the shiver ripple across your skin.
"Come now," he murmurs. "I know you can do better than that."
He shifts his hips slightly to slip a hand between you, taking his sweet time trailing his fingers down your chest to your navel before drifting around your hip to tease your inner thigh, kneading the muscle idly.
You swallow thickly, bucking your hips once as he trails his fingers higher, finding your dripping entrance to tease it with slow, lazy circles.
Instantly, you tense as your breath hitches, your body responding tenfold as your inner walls contract rhythmically, chasing friction. Pressure. Anything to tame the unbearable tension growing inside your belly.
"I'm growing tired of your silence," he snaps. "Tell me what you need, woman."
You suck in a deep breath through your nose as an ugly thing twists in your chest. You know what he wants. Know what game he's playing.
The bastard wants you to beg.
You suddenly jerk with a gasp as Sukuna roughly glides his thumb up and down through your folds, purposefully avoiding your clit, feeding the painful ache just enough to drive you insane.
What does he expect me to say? I’ve never been with a man before.
How the hell am I supposed to know what I need...?
Sukuna's hooded eyes bore into the side of your face with that look meant to strip away every part of you, like he can read every ugly little thought and emotion twisting through your head.
Pride battling surrender. Desire eroding discipline. Want warring with hate.
Every single one written plainly across your face for him to peruse at his pleasure.
And oh, does he revel in it.
He smirks, cocking a brow as he slowly slides his thumb to your clit, pressing hard circles into the swollen bundle of nerves until the pressure jolts through your inner walls, making them clench rhythmically in waves.
You moan softly, tipping your head back as Sukuna dips down to bite into the meat above your collarbone, trailing his tongue to your throat, leaving a wet line as he sucks and nips the sensitive skin over your bounding pulse.
The sensations are driving you fucking crazy, simultaneously too much and not nearly enough as your body writhes desperately against him, frustration building in your chest.
It feels like your sanity is slipping through your fingers, leaving only a raw, aching need so unbearable, it makes you want to claw out your own eyes just to escape it.
The coil of tension is building so fast. So strong. You can’t hold yourself together anymore as it twists inside you, winding tighter and tighter, demanding more.
Your nails dig deeper into Sukuna's shoulder, raking down his skin to leave angry red welts as he hisses against your ear from the sting.
Gods, your head is so lost in a fog as it all comes crashing down at last.
You snap.
"I need you," you finally cry out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them
Sukuna smiles against your skin, pinching your clit for good measure to make you whimper.
"Be more specific," he murmurs, nipping your earlobe.
You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face into his shoulder.
"I need you to touch me," you mutter.
"But I am touching you," he answers wryly, emphasizing his point by sliding his index lightly against your clit once more, leaving you squeezing your thighs.
"I need more," you pant, no longer concerned that your pride is in tatters. "Please, I need more. Just make it stop."
Sukuna chuckles as he brushes his lips against your temple.
"I told you to be specific," he murmurs against your skin. "So tell me what you need. Or I’ll stop."
Gods. You're so close. So close to the relief your body is begging desperately for.
.... Just say it.....
His thumb slows once more to agonizingly slow circles, toying with you, giving that little bud of nerves just enough pressure to keep the tension alive, but nowhere near enough to break it.
"Fine!" you snap, heat rushing into your cheeks. "Your tongue. Fuck! I want your tongue!"
"Mhm," Sukuna hums, lifting his head to gaze down at you. "Finally. There's my woman."
You blink up at him, panting, holding his hooded gaze as he shifts to brace on his forearm before lifting his palm. Your brow furrows when a wet schliick cuts through the air; glancing down between your bodies, your eyes widen as a mouth suddenly splits open on his palm, the tongue snaking out.
"What is...?" you breathe.
"A-aahh!"
You choke on your words and collapse back, closing your eyes as he presses his hand flush against your pussy.
Your body tenses right up, your back arching as that hot, wet little muscle slips into your folds. It presses on your clit before flicking up and down, alternating with circles, until the pressure has every sensitive nerve firing and you can barely breathe.
Instantly, that coil of tension returns, winding tighter, burning you hotter.
Sukuna cups your jaw roughly, his expression indifferent and yet his eyes? They feast upon you falling apart.
The dreamy look in your eyes. The way your soft lips part as you pant with abandon. The flush to your cheeks. The wayward strands of damp hair plastered to your sweaty brow.
And your sounds.
Those sweet, desperate moans you give him while grinding your pussy against his hand.
His jaw suddenly ticks as you wrap your arms around his nape, clinging onto him as you squeeze your thighs around his hips. Crying out as he slips his hand lower, sealing the mouth over your entrance.
You gasp as the tongue pushes inside, filling your walls as it curls up and strokes your g-spot.
Fullness. Pressure. Friction.
All of it winds the tension in your belly so fucking tight, tighter than anything you’ve ever felt, until every muscle in your body feels ready to snap.
You’re shaking now, thighs aching from being stretched open for so long as sweat beads between your breasts, trailing down your sides.
"Sukuna..." you gasp. "W-what is this...?"
"That's it," he murmurs, his words rumbling through his chest and into yours. "Break for me."
You’re so far past desperate now.
You can't breathe.
You can't think.
All you can feel is him. A slave to your own body as that tension reaches the peak of sweet, sweet relief.
The coil snaps.
You have no idea what the hell is happening while every one of your muscles go rigid, leaving you gripping onto Sukuna so tightly as a rush of heat leaves your body on fire.
Your pussy spasms in waves around his tongue as you moan shamelessly. Sukuna merely glances down at the side of your face from the corner of his eyes, watching it contort almost in pain.
You squeeze your eyes shut, riding out your orgasm as your inner walls flutter around his tongue. The wet gushing sounds of your release mixed with his saliva fill the air, coating his hand while trailing down your ass.
It feels like your body is falling apart, every nerve ending igniting in a burst of electricity as you’re sent into a state of euphoria.
Your heart is racing. Your mouth is slack. Your blood feels like it’s boiling beneath your skin, while your pussy tingles and throbs through every contraction.
Until finally.
Finally, it starts to subside, your inner walls relaxing as your body begins to float down from the high.
The tension in your muscles starts to drain away as you go limp, collapsing flat against the table, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Sukuna hums low, withdrawing his tongue from your throbbing, oversensitive cunt, leaving you wincing with the motion.
You drape your arm over your face as your mind spins while the rest of you is reduced to a sweaty, incoherent mess.
What the hell....
What the hell have I done...?!
Your stomach knots as remorse immediately rears its ugly head. Your face burns red as you grit your teeth, disgusted with how desperately you begged for him, how pathetically you pleaded for his touch.
Sukuna suddenly shifts off of you, standing up to tower over your spent form. Your body starts shivering with the loss of his heat as the cool air brushes over your flushed skin.
Slowly, he trails his gaze over every inch of your body with a look devoid of any warmth, only indifference written on his face.
"Come now," he says coldly. "Already regretting what it is you asked for?"
You inhale shakily, turning your face deeper into the crook of your arm as you press your lips into a thin line, your chest constricting with a fresh wave of shame.
Still, you drop your arm and force yourself up, exhaling briskly as the muscles in your legs tremble and your hip joints ache with every little movement.
You cover your breasts with one arm, still painfully aware of Sukuna’s cold gaze following you as you stumble off the table and make a dash for the discarded haori.
Your head still feels fuzzy, stomach nauseous, as you feel the mess rubbing against the inside of your thighs with each wobbly step. Snatching up the crumpled silk and wrapping it around your body.
Sukuna clicks his tongue, scratching his jaw lazily as he grins wickedly.
"There's no need for modesty now, my little General," he murmurs, tilting his head. "I've already seen and tasted every inch of you."
You grit your teeth as a fresh wave of mortification crashes over you. Still, you narrow your eyes and shoot him a nasty look.
"Why are you doing this to me?" you hiss, clutching the haori tighter to your breast.
Sukuna steps closer until he's invading your personal space, crossing both sets of arms.
"Doing what to you?" he asks flatly, lifting his chin to stare down at you. "I only did what you asked."
You blink up at him blankly, watching his lip curl up into a lopsided smirk as yours tightens into a scowl.
"What I asked?!" you hiss. "I never wanted any of this, you fucking bastard!"
Sukuna’s expression turns detached, his eyes cold as he uncrosses his arms. You let out a yelp as he suddenly fists a handful of your hair, wrenching you forward to slam into his chest.
He yanks your head back roughly, leaving you wincing in pain while he forces your gaze to his, leaning in until his face is inches from yours.
"You never wanted this?" he snarls. "Hah. Don't insult me with such pathetic words."
You grit your teeth as an ugly ball of rage burns in your chest while you grip onto his wrist, digging your nails in and refusing to look away from his apathetic stare.
"Insult you?" you snap. "INSULT YOU?! You humiliated me!"
Sukuna throws his head back and laughs. A real nasty one too, the deep sound rumbling through the room and setting your teeth on edge.
"Humiliated you?" he says flatly, lowering his gaze back to yours. "That's amusing. I merely showed you what you refuse to see. What you're so intent to hide behind those pathetic fucking ideals."
You scoff bitterly, wrenching his hand from your hair and throwing it down.
"I'm not hiding behind anything," you spit. "I don't want you! I'll never want you. I want nothing to do with you!"
Sukuna straightens, his jaw ticking as he glares down at you. You swallow thickly, but don't back down, utterly seething as those cold, red depths bore right into yours.
"Tell me I'm wrong," he murmurs at last, cupping the back of your head. "Tell me the words didn't pour from your mouth like a desperate whore."
He leans in again, something terrifying burning in those depths as you flinch.
"Tell me that I didn’t have the great, fearsome General begging me for my tongue," he hisses. "Tell me I'm wrong that beneath all that discipline, all that divine obedience, you want strength. Freedom. The right to take as you please and live by your own desires."
Your heart is beating so fast, your temples throb, blood roaring in your ears as you stare up at Sukuna, your body vibrating from the rush of adrenaline.
"You’re wrong," you spit. "I don’t want anything, especially not from you."
Sukuna regards you for a long moment, the silence stretching out as you glare at one another, inches between your bodies. The indifference in his expression is nothing short of contempt, the tension in his jaw betraying what his eyes will not.
"Still deluding yourself?" he murmurs at last. "How amusing."
He clicks his tongue in disgust before shoving you back, turning without another word as he crosses the tatami toward the entryway.
You blink, frozen in place as every single muscle locks up, your lungs tight and stomach knotting into a ball of nerves. As he reaches the threshold, Sukuna pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at your distraught form.
"Know this, my sweet little General," he says coldly. "I will never tire of stripping away those so called virtues that pathetic monastery instilled in you. Honor. Discipline. Duty. Every pretty lie you convinced yourself you believe in."
He cocks a brow, offering a cruel smile devoid of any kind of warmth.
"The strong take what they desire while the weak get crushed beneath the weight of what they deny. You'll see soon enough which one you are. Which one you want to be."
And then he's gone, slamming the panel shut behind him, the force vibrating through the stillness of the room and up through your toes. For a long moment, you don't move, don't even breathe as you listen to his heavy footsteps fade.
Then, all at once your legs buckle as you collapse with a heavy thud onto your shins, burying your face into your hands.
What the fuck have I done?
Why did I let Sukuna do that to me...?!
That ugly little question repeats itself over and over in your mind as tears stream down your cheeks.
You want to scream. You want to fight. To lash out and destroy something, anything. You want to curl up into a ball and just disappear.
But all you can do is cry.
Cry until your throat is sore and hoarse. Cry until your chest hurts. Cry until your body has nothing left to give as you wrap your arms around yourself.
Your mind, your body, your spirit. Every piece of you is beyond exhausted.
You collapse onto your side and curl into yourself, wrapping your arms tightly around your belly as you bury your face against your knees. It isn’t until your red, puffy eyes have no tears left to shed, until your body lacks the energy to keep sobbing, that the cries finally begin to wane into sniffles.
Using the edge of the haori, you wipe the snot and tears from your face before staring blankly ahead at the wall, just utterly numb.
Yet, your mind begins cycling through every thought, every moment, every word exchanged between you and Sukuna since the day you first laid eyes on him.
And that's when it all begins to click. One truth. One bitter ugly fucking truth. When it comes to Sukuna? Freedom is an illusion.
You may think the choices are yours. That every decision you make is born of your own will. Your own judgment. Your own desire.
But as you've come to learn? Sukuna has already got you decided.
Already chosen your path before you've even set foot upon it. Has already guided your hand. Already led your thoughts. Already decided where you will end up, long before you realize you're even moving at all.
So that begs the question...
Is he right about what you want? What you crave?
Could it be that he's right about what you are. Who you really are beneath the honor, the discipline, the duty?
MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: Malevolent Mercy on Ao3
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💥 Reader discretion is advised: VERY graphic descriptions of gore/violence/ Dub con💥
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Sukuna.
The King of Curses.
The man who has been your captor. Your tormentor. The one whose fucked up games of cat and mouse have tested your mind, body and spirit over and over again, until you feel like you're going crazy trying to survive him.
And yet? In a cruel twist of fate, here he is, standing at your back as the only thing keeping you upright.
The heat of his skin seeps through what's left of your yukata and into your shivering body as his lower arms hold you tight.
And gods, that's the worst part.
He feels so warm. So fucking safe. Your exhausted frame gives out before you can stop it, collapsing back against him.
Your skin breaks out into a cold, clammy sweat as your head lolls back, your breaths shallow as your eyes drift closed. Sukuna hums low, and you're barely with it enough to feel his hand drifting up to grip your jaw, tilting your pale face to his.
Under any other circumstance, you would fight tooth and nail to pull yourself away from his touch.
But right now?
Your mind is utterly blank.
The shock from all the blood loss has robbed your brain of any higher thought, leaving behind only a baser instinct. One that is drawn to his heat like a moth to flame.
His finger trails along the curve of your bruised jaw until his thumb finds your bottom lip, brushing over it softly as he chuckles low.
"You have made quite the mess, haven’t you, my little General?"
Slowly, your eyes flutter open, but your vision is so blurry. You squeeze them shut then open again, blinking through the haze until the faint outline of his face begins to take shape.
He's covered in blood and ash, pink hair slicked back while those cold, red depths burn into yours. The corner of his mouth is curled up in a smirk that is only befitting of his usual arrogance when he finds himself burdened by the presence of lesser beings.
Still, as your hooded gaze finds his, you see it. Sure, there's that cruel amusement ever present.
But now there's something else....
Something you've seen before as he studies you intently.
Curiosity, perhaps?
Cunning?
It's hard to tell with Sukuna, his motives as frustratingly inscrutable as ever.
"I must admit," he muses aloud, tilting your head further, forcing your unfocused gaze to remain on his, "I'm impressed you managed to open the conduit this much, and so soon."
His thumb trails lower to your chin, smearing the blood across your skin.
"To channel cursed energy that potent without being consumed by it..." He clicks his tongue. "Most sorcerers would have been destroyed in the process."
He huffs out a laugh, gliding his hand up to cup the side of your head.
"And yet," he murmurs, threading his fingers through your tangled, bloody hair. "Here you are. My stubborn little woman."
Your mind is so fuzzy as your eyes drift closed, nauseous as the world keeps spinning. Sukuna just hums, trailing his unreadable gaze down your body, drinking in every detail.
Every gash. Every burn. The blood and soot. The way your body shivers against his.
"Look at me," he murmurs.
You grit your teeth as another wave of pain tears down your arm, yet still, you force your weary gaze open to meet his.
"Still breathing," he says softly. "Even as your flesh stands upon the very precipice of collapse, you still bare your fangs."
The corners of his mouth twitch once as his eyes drift down to your lips.
"I find such resilience... intriguing."
He chuckles low, tilting his head as those damning eyes bore into yours, peeling back every layer until it feels as if they've found the most guarded parts of you. The parts you try to hide from everyone.
And yet, you hate the way your lower belly flutters as his hand glides down the curve of your throat, over your collarbone, until his fingers find the onyx stone, stroking his thumb idly over it's pulsing surface.
Your heart pounds against your ribs, that knot twisting tighter in your insides as his hand drifts lower, cupping your left breast, the heat of him searing through your skin.
Despite everything, your body arches into his touch as he dips his head to rest his brow to your temple, breathing you in.
"Mhm. How amusing," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "You still cannot channel your own cursed energy to heal yourself, can you?"
He chuckles low as your heart races against his fingertips.
"How troublesome this binding vow has become for you, has it not?"
He trails his fingers to your side, using his nails to tease up and down the curve of your waist. The sensation leaves you shuddering as your eyes drift closed, too exhausted to concentrate on anything else but the simple act of breathing.
You clench your jaw until the muscle ticks, cursing your own body as it melts into his touch. A strangled sound, something between a groan and a wince, bubbles up your throat as his fingers brush over a particularly deep gash in your side. Pain sears through the muscle, stinging like hell.
Sukuna hums contentedly, the sound vibrating through you.
"I find you fascinating, my little General," he muses. "Your ideals. Your righteousness. All those noble convictions you hide behind."
He flashes you a wicked grin, squeezing your hip.
"And yet, I finally bear witness to the real you."
His hand drifts lower, splaying out his fingers to skim across your abdomen, running his palm over the many gashes and abrasions along your skin. The stone responds to his presence, each thrum sending a fresh wave of heat through your aching body.
"This conduit, this connection between us through the cursed object," he murmurs, his voice low against your ear. "It's unlike anything I have ever encountered. To feel my cursed energy flowing through you, intertwining with your very essence, until I can feel your rage, your hunger, your desires..."
He chuckles, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
"It's intoxicating."
Your breath hitches with another pang of pain before you swallow thickly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.
You close your eyes as the world around you starts to fade. Until everything but him ceases to exist. This moment. The feel of is hand on your belly. His warm breath against your ear. The effortless strength he exudes with two arms wrapped tightly around you.
No matter how terrifying it is to admit, your thoughts keep cycling back to that same gut feeling...
Safe.
A warmth suddenly starts to spread from where his hand rests against you, seeping into your bloodstream until it reaches every aching muscle and battered bone in your body.
Slowly, the numbness in your limbs begins to ease, until you can flex your fingers. Your heart finds its resting pace. Even your breathing grows easier, your lungs no longer burdened by the struggle of drawing breath through broken ribs.
Your brow furrows.
This warmth, it's familiar....
Reverse cursed technique...?
Your eyes flutter open, your vision clearing enough to make out a star or two through the smoke overheard, utter relief settling in the pit of your gut.
Sukuna...
He's healing my wounds.
Hah. The irony leaves a bitter taste in your mouth despite the sentiment, given the bastard is the entire reason you can't use your own cursed energy in the first place.
Still, as the pain subsides, your mind clears from the rush of a second wind.
But you're still human.
The blood loss will take days to recover from, despite the ease of pain, there is still that lingering heaviness in your muscles as your eyes find his once more.
Sukuna regards you with an unreadable expression as his hand slides up the centre of your sternum to grip your jaw, keeping your head tilted back against his shoulder, forcing you to hold his gaze.
Your breaths start to quicken as you lose yourself in that cold stare. There’s an intensity there, yes, but something else lurks in those red depths. Something that threatens to pull you under and drown you in him.
But that's not what has your heart pounding in your chest. Nor is it what leaves that ball of tension fluttering low in your belly.
It’s this.
This maddening thing between you.
This push and pull that has no damn right existing. A dichotomy between a mind trying to assert logic and boundaries, disgust even, while your body burns hot, craving more of his warmth, his strength.
Torn between wanting to shove him away and wrap his arms tighter around you.
You rip your gaze away with a huff, turning your head to the side.
"Now I see the reason behind your arrogance, General," a voice suddenly snarls. "Sold yourself to the King of Curses have you? Spread your legs to warm his bed and call his favor power?"
Gritting your teeth, your eyes flick over to the first sorcerer as he glares up at Sukuna, taking another half step back. Honestly, you're so numb to the insults, it's almost laughable now.
Sukuna, however, goes utterly still against you. His expression turns indifferent as he slowly lifts his gaze from the side of your face to regard the sorcerer with a cold, hooded stare.
"Ah, I had forgotten you were still here," he says flatly. "Given your presence is so insignificant."
The sorcerer's lip curls up in disgust, the scar along his cheek bending with the motion as he lifts his chin, puffing out his chest.
"You dare mock me, you insolent demon?" he hisses, spittle flying from his lips. "I am one of the Zen'in elite. A Jujutsu sorcerer of noble blood, a master in the art of cursed energy since birth!"
Sukuna's expression remains unreadable as he arches a brow, tilting his head.
"Mhm," he hums, scratching his jaw idly. "My, such bold words from such pathetic lips."
He drops his arm to his side to trail his nails lightly up and down your wrist.
"I must say, it is rather amusing how you Zen'in so enjoy mistaking mediocrity for mastery."
The sorcerer’s face twists.
"You foul mouthed cur...!"
Sukuna snorts under his breath, disregarding him completely to slide his hands to your hips. You stumble slightly as he starts maneuvering you around his body, shielding you from view with a click of his tongue.
"Indeed," he murmurs as you tip your head back to stare at the back of his head, your brow furrowing. "You Zen'in hold your heads too high."
He lifts his chin to stare down from his height with a slight tick in his jaw.
"Know your place."
The sorcerer grits his teeth, his features twisting into a bitter scowl as his glare cuts past Sukuna's chest, finding yours indirectly.
"Go ahead and hide you traitorous bitch." he hisses. "Revel in the shame you sold your soul as a whore and you'll die as one."
A massive amount of cursed energy starts to surge into his palm, crackling around his fingertips. So concentrated and raw, it leaves the fine hairs on your body standing on end.
"I curse you, General," the sorcerer snarls, his eyes widening into something truly unhinged. "And I curse the abomination you brought with you. The Zen'in will see to it you both are cast down to Jigoku to receive your judgement."
His hand curls into his fist before he drops to knee, cocking his arm back to drive it into the ground. But before his knuckles can even touch the ash, Sukuna moves.
He doesn’t just blur with speed, he simply just....disappears.
The abrupt loss of his body leaves you swaying on your feet, your head swimming.
The sorcerer's eyes fly open as a hand catches his wrist, leaving him grunting as he strains against it. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to find Sukuna's cold one staring back at him.
The sorcerer's lips part, but before a single word can take shape, Sukuna punches his left hand through the centre of his chest with a wet crack. A low chuckle rumbles from him as he rises to his full height, lifting the sorcerer effortlessly into the air.
The man's feet dangle uselessly beneath him, heels kicking at empty space while his fingers claw weakly at Sukuna's wrist, spitting up blood between gurgling breaths that fleck across Sukuna's face.
Sukuna merely regards him with a detached kind of amusement as he curls his fingers around the man's still frantically beating heart. Slowly, he digs the tips of his nails into the pulsing muscle, watching the sorcerer’s body jerk in his grasp.
"I am curious though," Sukuna muses flatly, despite grinning like a madman. "Which Zen'in, exactly, do you believe remain to carry out your little threat?"
He squeezes the heart, making the sorcerer throw his head back in an agonizing scream, producing a sound that is nothing more than a wet gurgle. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to gulp down air that won't come, eyes rolling to the back of his skull.
"From where I stand," Sukuna continues, tilting his head, "there is nothing left of the Zen'in but ash and corpses."
He pulls the man closer, until there nearly face to face as his voice drops to a whisper.
"Destroyed by the only worthy thing your pathetic bloodline ever produced."
Sukuna grits his teeth in disgust before twisting his wrist, ripping the man's heart right out of his chest.
He lifts the still weakly beating organ between them, hot blood trickling down his forearm as the man goes limp.
Sukuna lets go with his other hand, casually dropping the sorcerer's corpse at his feet in a heap, the pupils blowing wide as they fix on the smoky night sky.
Clicking his tongue once, Sukuna watches the heart quiver briefly before crushing it in his palm with a squelch, chunks of muscle oozing between his fingers before he casually discards the remaining mush aside.
Wiping his hand on his hakama, Sukuna glances back at you over his shoulder, cocking a brow as a guttural laugh bubbles his throat. Instantly, your stomach knots from the chilling sound as a terrifying look burns in Sukuna's gaze.
A look devoid of any warmth or sanity.
He's high on the kill.
"You vile bastard!" a voice roars across the space. "I'll fucking kill you for what you've done!"
You turn your head to find the hulking brawler charging towards Sukuna, channelling surges of cursed energy into both of his fists. His eyes have turned crazed, his expression lost to rage as he rapidly closes the distance between them.
Sukuna just hums low, still wearing that devilish smile as he squares up to the brawler. The rampaging man growls out a curse as he cocks his fist back, swinging a wild haymaker right for his face.
One minute you blink, the next Sukuna's hand is snapping up to catch the brawler's wrist mid swing, the man's muscles bulging as he strains against his grip. Wasting no time, Sukuna slams a palm flat to his chest.
"Cleave," he utters flatly.
You watch, caught in a morbid kind of fascination as Sukuna’s technique activates, slicing through the brawler’s body and dicing him into hundreds of bloodied chunks, reducing him to nothingness.
Blood splatters across Sukuna's front as he drops what's left of the brawlers arm to the ground with a thud, cracking his neck before running two hands through his hair, slicking the pink, bloodied strands off his brow.
You swallow thickly as your gaze drifts over everything around you, taking it all in.
The fires. The corpses. The silence. The ash raining down.
It feels like your chest is hollowing out, leaving behind nothing but numbness as your eyes find Sukuna. He glances over his shoulder at you once more and smiles, a wicked, cruel thing.
"Hah."
All you can do is laugh dryly, dropping your head into your hand as pressure throbs behind your eyes. Sucking in a shaky breath, you lift your head, squeezing your eyes open and closed once for good measure before narrowing your glare onto the entrance of the shinden.
You take a few stumbling steps, cursing the weakness in your legs before they give out completely, leaving you collapsing forward to catch yourself on your hands and knees, panting to catch your breath.
A cold sweat breaks out across your brow as you grit your teeth, curling your fingers into the ashy gravel before pushing yourself upright. You make it nearly halfway before your damn legs give out on you again.
But before gravity can leave you with a broken nose, a muscular forearm suddenly snakes around your midriff, catching you and holding you steady.
Slowly, you glance up to find Sukuna staring down at you with amusement. He tilts his head, cocking a brow as you cough once against the stench of burning flesh, the smoke stinging your eyes and irritating your throat.
"Look at you, my little General," he murmurs. "Don’t tell me I have to carry you now."
"Tch," you hiss, pulling yourself from his arms. "You'll do no such thing. Try it, and I'll kill you."
You ignore Sukuna's deep laughter as you push forward. Despite your shaking thighs, despite the way each inhale of smoke burns your lungs, you stagger on toward the shinden.
Toward your final goal.
One Zen'in left.
Your heart races faster the closer you get, the hairs on your nape standing on end as you feel Sukuna watching you intently, still laughing under his breath.
The world around you falls silent as your mind and body unite into one singular focus. The engawa. Reaching the base of the steps, you grit your teeth as that ball of rage starts to burn hot in your chest, feeding fresh hits of adrenaline into your bloodstream.
You plant one foot on the first step, bracing a hand against your knee to force yourself up onto the next. One by one, you climb the short set of stairs, leaving sooty footprints smeared across the wood until you find yourself standing before the tsumado.
Slowly, you slide open the heavy door and step inside. The room is dim, lit up only by the few tōdai scattered throughout the large space, leaving you squinting slightly as your eyes drift over the colourful ink of dragons sprawling across the fusuma panels.
The very same ones you were admiring only a few hours ago while talking with your little brother.
You inhale deeply through your nose as your gaze drifts to the centre of the room, finding your father seated upon his shitone at the far end, raised above you on a two step dais.
The only fitting seat, of course, for the head of the clan.
The moment your eyes meet, your guts twist into a knot. His expression is filled with utter contempt, his lip curling up in disgust as he takes in your tattered form.
Scoffing, he lifts his bottle of sake to his lips and takes a long swig, his throat bobbing with each gulp, before he slams it back down on the table beside him, the contents sloshing inside.
He narrows his cold eyes on you once more, trailing them over your body once more.
The dirty yukata barely hanging on your shoulders. The torn flaps of cloth hanging off your hip and thigh, exposing the skin beneath. The blood. Your wild, tangled hair, matted with ash, blood, and gods know what else.
But at this point?
You don’t give a shit what you look like. Modesty and decorum had been thrown to the four winds the moment he threw you into the disciplinary pit.
Your father just shakes his head with a bitter look of disgust.
"What have you done?" he growls curtly. "Have you lost all sense of honor and duty to madness? Look at the destruction you've wrought upon our clan, our home."
You can't help the bitter laugh that slips out.
Our home. Gods, the audacity of him to say it so casually.
As if he ever once cared to make me feel like I belonged here.
You grit your teeth, seething inside as you slip behind that mask of icy composure, lifting your chin while holding his unnerving stare.
"What have I done?" you rasp, gesturing to yourself. "I'm merely fulfilling the role you paid to have me forged into."
The corners of your eyes twitch once, before narrowing.
"Isn't that right father?"
You take a step forward, leveling him with a glare as a barking laugh tears from his throat, devoid of any kind of warmth.
"Ah yes, it's true." he mutters, taking another swig of sake before standing to his full height, sneering down at you. "Is that what you want to hear? That I paid for your training. Indirectly saw to your elevation as the famous divine General."
He clicks his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.
"And yet here you stand, a petulant child soaked in the blood of her own house, too blinded by spite to comprehend the clan's greater design."
This time you scoff, shaking your head.
"Greater design?!" you hiss. "There is no design here beyond your hatred for me and your betrayal of my mother! Your own wife!"
Your father only snorts before tipping the bottle back, draining every last drop of sake, then whips it at the wall. It shatters against the wood, scattering shards of clay across the floor, setting your teeth on edge.
"Even now, you fail to understand," he hisses, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "You were never meant to live for yourself, not when you were born of this house. Your blood, your technique, your very soul, all of it belongs to the Zen'in."
He takes a step down from the dais, his cold stare boring into yours.
"You were meant to cast aside those selfish desires and accept your rightful purpose. To become the guardian shikigami bound to Genji, and by doing so, secure the Zen'in clan’s supremacy for generations to come."
Your father's face flushes red from the buzz of sake, his bloodshot eyes glaring into yours as he flicks a hand in your direction.
"But instead, you've grown weak. Chosen to be selfish!"
"Hah. Weak?" you spit, taking a step closer, curling your hands into fists at your side, nearly vibrating with fury. "Selfish? You deceived me into surrendering my life, my future, everything. I have bled and suffered and sacrificed countless times over, all for the sake of YOUR ambition!"
"I did what was necessary for the good of the clan," he retorts coldly. "The Zen'in must stand above the Sugawara. Above every sorcerer family that dares call itself our equal, and such power is not preserved through something soft as mercy."
His eyes narrow.
"Sacrifices must be made. You should have felt honoured to serve such a higher purpose for our name."
A bitter laugh tears from your throat.
"Higher purpose?" you repeat, shaking your head as you blink up the ceiling. "You truly have no idea what you've done to me, do you?"
Your gaze drops back to his, your voice cracking despite yourself.
"The very depths of the hell to which you condemned me?"
Your father waves a dismissive hand, scowling.
"Enough of this self pitying drivel," he growls. "You prattle on as a child, blind to the design laid before you. The foundation of the Zen'in future is all that matters, and you were born to serve as one of its pillars."
Suddenly, it's like a switch flips as your father's expression shifts. The cold contempt in his eyes giving way to something softer, almost entreating.
"Daughter," he murmurs, with a gentleness so foreign upon his tongue, it catches you off guard as you stiffen.
"Let this madness cease while there is yet time." He lifts his chin. "Restore your duty and honor as the General..."
He inclines his head to you.
"As a Zen'in."
He steps down from the dais to meet you at eye level, extending a hand as though beckoning home a wayward child.
"Come back to me, to your family." He growls, his eyes searching yours. "Take your rightful place at Genji’s side. Be his guardian, his shield, his guiding hand. Lead him, and through him, we can rebuild."
You swallow thickly, dropping your gaze to his outstretched hand.
"We shall raise our name above all others," he murmurs. "Until the Zen'in are known as the most powerful and most feared sorcerer clan in all of Japan."
For a moment, all you can do is stare blankly at his feet, your mouth going dry as you lick your cracked lips, tasting blood and ash.
What if...?
What if I return? What would become of me? Could I truly become a Zen'in...?
Or merely another slave beneath its name?
Slowly, you lift your head, searching his face for any trace of deceit. Any flicker of cruelty. Any crack in that mask. But his hardened features remain composed, softened by the faintest hint of a smile, giving him the closest thing you've ever seen resembling paternal.
At least, directed at you.
And you hate it. Hate that a small, traitorous part of you yearns to believe him, to accept the olive branch and return to the fold.
To have a place. A purpose.
A family
But the knots in your gut tell you otherwise, reminding you of the ugly truth lurking beneath the polished façade of your family’s name.
Duty. Honor. They're nothing but pretty lies meant to beguile the weak and the naïve. A smokescreen for the cruelty, the manipulation, the casual disregard for life and loyalty festering at the core.
And you are neither weak nor naïve.
Not anymore.
You meet your father’s gaze at last, utterly numb, even as your heart aches.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment," you whisper, shaking your head slowly. "To hear such words spoken from your lips."
His eyes narrow, jaw ticking as he watches you intently.
"But now that the hour has come?" you add, inhaling briskly. "I refuse."
The corner of your father’s eye twitches once as he lifts his head.
"I refuse to be used as a tool for the whims of others," you continue, gritting your teeth. "I shall serve no master, no clan, no bloodline, no other purpose but my own. From this day forth, my life belongs to me alone."
Your father simply snorts, that mask of warmth slipping to reveal the ugliness underneath as he crosses his arms, smirking.
"Ahh," he hums, tilting his head. "Tell me daughter, what higher purpose does your miserable life serve beyond the prestige I offered you?"
That numbness inside you starts to fester, revealing the raw anger beneath as you level him with a glare.
"My purpose and my worth," you hiss, lifting your head high, "are mine alone to decide. Not yours. Not this clan’s. Not even your precious Genji's."
Your father's eyes suddenly dart over your shoulder, widening before narrowing with disdain. It doesn't take long before you feel the sudden shift in the air, tickling the hairs along the back of your neck as you glance back to see Sukuna step through the doorway.
His massive frame nearly fills the entrance, his hair brushing the lintel as he ducks through before straightening to his full height. He wanders in casually, glancing around the space with that usual look of bored indifference before those hooded eyes find your father.
Slowly, he tilts his head while trailing his gaze over him with a look nothing short of arrogance, his jaw ticking before they fall on yours. You feel your lower belly start to flutter with tension as he lifts his chin, capturing you in those red depths as he offers that devilish smile of his.
Your father scoffs with utter disgust as he glances between you both.
"Now I understand," he growls, drawing your attention back. "You sold what little virtue you have, bartering your body for power by spreading your legs for the disgraced one."
He spits in disgust, shaking his head.
"How low you have fallen, daughter."
"Hah."
All you can do is huff out a laugh as a strange kind of satisfaction settles deep inside you, despite his callous words.
It's like that small part of you finally accepts the truth. You will never belong. You will never be seen as a Zen'in in his eyes. You will never be his kin. Never be loved or cherished as Genji is.
And you know what? It is so fucking freeing.
You lift your chin, smiling to reveal blood stained teeth as you chuckle.
"Know this, father," you murmur. "After I kill you, the Zen'in bloodline shall end."
You take a step closer, reveling in the confusion that flashes across his face.
"I slaughtered your precious heir," you continue, gritting your teeth. "Tore him apart with my cursed technique until there was nothing left of him but bones."
Your father stiffens, his expression chillingly blank, as he holds your glare.
"You lie."
"Do I?" you ask softly, tilting your head. "Shall I tell you how loudly he cried for you while my chains ripped him apart?"
The muscle in his jaw ticks with tension as you laugh, running a hand through your hair.
"Your wife was there too you know, in her pretty kimono with that pretty jade comb in her hair."
You click your tongue, flicking a hand dismissively.
"She wailed even louder than Genji. Tch. Like the weak, pitiful woman that she was."
Your fathers breaths start to quicken, the vein at his temple throbbing as his dark eyes glare into yours. All the while, you can feel Sukuna's eyes on you despite the charged tension in the air.
Slowly, you lift your head, cocking a brow as your father lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. Without a word, he reaches for the katana at his hip, drawing the blade from its sheath to leave you stiffening.
But he only holds it in front of him, inspecting the polished metal as it reflects the flickering light of the tōdai.
Then, with a scoff, he tosses the katana to the floor. It lands with a thud before clattering across the wooden boards, coming to rest near your soot covered toes.
"Very well then," your father says flatly. "There you go. Cut me down, daughter, prove yourself every bit the monster you claim to be."
His lip curls in disgust.
"You're not even worth the fight."
You inhale deeply, glancing down at the discarded weapon. Swallowing thickly, you bend down to grip its hilt, brushing your thumb along the leather wrap.
"How very like you, father," you hiss, straightening to your full height. "To throw down your weapon, your honor, your very life, because you cannot see past your own pride."
You level the katana at him, gritting your teeth.
"But then again, that's all you've ever done, is it not? Cast aside anything and anyone that does not serve your ambitions."
Your grip tightens around the hilt until your knuckles turn white.
"Your wife. Your daughter..."
You huff out a laugh, turning the blade until its flat edge reflects the dim flames.
"Even your own son, in the end."
Your father simply stares back at you with a detached expression, his dark eyes empty save for the ego burning in their depths. Slowly, he lifts his head, offering you a patronizing smile.
"I'll speak no more of this." he mutters. "Do with me what you will it doesn't matter. The Zen'in name will always endure, with or without me. But you?"
His eyes drift over your face with disgust before he gestures dismissively.
"You will always be nothing more than a broken, weak, frightened little girl."
He turns his back on you then, leaving you to watch as he climbs the steps of the dais.
You inhale deeply, fury twisting your insides, a bitter retort sitting on your tongue as you part your lips, only to swallow it down when a whoosh of air bursts past you, whipping your hair forward.
It takes one blink before you're now staring at the broad form of Sukuna, his hand wrapping around your father's throat to lift him off the floor. Your father's feet kick wildly through the air, sputtering and gasping as he clings to Sukuna's wrist.
Sukuna’s jaw ticks as his cold gaze bores into your father’s.
"Hmph. First you force me to listen to your pathetic drivel," he hisses, squeezing his windpipe until your father gags. "And then you dare turn your back to me?"
Your father's face starts to turn purple, eyes bulging as he gasps for breath while Sukuna pulls him in close, leaning in.
"I find it amusing that you Zen'in stake your worth upon name and bloodline," he murmurs, low enough that only your father can hear.
"And yet, the only worthy thing your pathetic clan ever produced..." he breathes, flashing his canines in a wicked grin.
"She's mine."
Your father grits his teeth, spittle trailing down his chin as his eyelids begin to droop. And yet, you don't miss the way they flick to you, the corner of his mouth curling up with that spiteful kind of satisfaction.
His own great victory by denying your vengeance. And that's what pushes you over the edge.
You're beyond fucking pissed.
Your eyes snap to Sukuna, narrowing into a murderous glare as every last instinct for self preservation goes up in smoke, incinerated beneath the rage boiling through your veins.
This is about you. Your one final chance to seek justice from your father's flesh and lay your mother’s soul to rest.
Maybe then, one day, you' ll be able to forgive yourself. Maybe then, finally, her grief will no longer haunt you in your dreams.
And yet? Here is Sukuna, casually ripping it away like he has any goddamn right.
Fuck that.
Fuck him.
You're vibrating with adrenaline as you suck in a shaky breath, drawing on the conduit as your rage feeds the wellspring of cursed energy. You grit your teeth as your body starts to burn up, concentrating it into your core before channelling it down your leg.
A blackish-red hue of cursed energy starts crackling around your shin as you focus it, and with a low hiss, you dig your bare foot into the wooden floor, splintering the planks beneath you as your quads tense.
Then you push off, bounding up the steps of the dais before pivoting on your left foot. Your right leg whips around in a black flash, connecting a roundhouse straight into Sukuna's side.
CRACK!
Sukuna’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. He bites down on a grunt as your shin slams into his ribs, dropping your father to the ground, gasping.
A thunderous boom follows as the force of the black flash sends him sideways like a projectile, smashing through the wall in an explosion of wood. Splintered chunks of the shinden spray outward behind him as he hurtles through the air, until his form is swallowed into the thick black smoke.
Your chest is heaving as you ride through the momentum, resetting to position yourself squared to your father once more. Your eyes are wild, muscles shaking from the rush as your cursed energy slowly dissipates.
Lifting your chin, you breathe fast through your nose, your eyes flicking down to the raspy wheezes coming from your father as he rubs gingerly at his bruised throat.
Just as he slowly pushes himself upright, your brow furrows.
There’s no mistaking that sound.
He’s laughing.
It’s the laugh of a man who’s lost everything. A man who stares into the face of his own destruction and finds nothing but bitter amusement in the irony of it all.
"Sugawara's price," he rasps between coughing fits. "It was worth it... in the end..."
You curl your fingers tighter around your katana until they ache.
The world goes quiet then, until all you can hear is your pounding heartbeat in your ears, and all you can see is the bastard in front of you. The architect of all your suffering.
"What did you say?" you murmur.
Your father’s dull gaze drifts past you, fixing on some distant point.
"I remember thinking what a greedy bastard Sugawara was for the price he demanded," he rasps, coughing once. "And yet, I paid it all the same. Now, at long last, I bear witness to the fruition of my investment."
He pauses to smirk up at you, the corners of his eyes softening in a way that looks akin to respect. The whole thing leaves your chest tightening and your heart feeling heavy.
"You are strong, daughter..." He wheezes, straining for breath. "...stronger than I ever could have imagined."
You laugh bitterly as your father pants, staring down at the floor before finally lifting his gaze to you one last time. The dark depths of his eyes never lose that spiteful edge as he straightens into a kneel, resting his hands on the tops of his thighs.
"Alright, General," he murmurs hoarsely, lifting his chin to give you a nod. "Do what you need to do."
The stone starts pulsing as you step forward, staring down at him as he holds his head high, closing his eyes. You ignore the sick feeling in your gut as you slide a foot back, torquing your hips to swing the katana around in a blur of steel.
A wet schluck cuts through the silence as the blade slices through your father's neck, parting flesh from bone in an instant.
For one surreal moment, his head stays where it is on his shoulders, while blood dribbles slowly down the column of his throat. His eyes are still closed and face peaceful, almost like he's sleeping.
Then it topples forward.
It hits the floor with a thud, rolling down the steps of the dais and continues to somewhere in the middle of the room. His body stays upright for a second longer before keeling over in a heap, blood gushing out, flowing past your feet and down the steps.
And you just stand there, numb, the katana hanging limp at your side.
"Tch." You spit, throwing the weapon down with a clatter, watching his blood pool around it.
A strange, detached kind of feeling settles over you, almost surreal in a sense.
Your father is finally dead, yet nothing changes.
Your mother is still gone.
But that guilt?
That guilt feels a little lighter.
You inhale deep, tipping your head back to blink up at the ceiling, running both your hands through your hair, only to cradle the back of your neck.
I did it. With the Zen'in gone, I'm free.
Your eyes drift closed, a small smile pulling at your lips as a laugh begins to bubble up your throat. It starts low and breathless, barely more than a broken exhale, before building into a full blown hysterical fit.
And what a sight it is.
Here you are, standing in the aftermath of your war, flames crackling in the distance amongst a mass grave.
All the while, your chest stings as the stone thrums, refusing to give up its hold as it urges you on.
Demanding more destruction.
Slowly you lower your gaze, staring blankly ahead as you descend the dais, while the stones insidious little whispers fill your head.
Burn it. Burn it all to the ground.
Swallowing thickly, your eyes drift to the side of the room, narrowing onto one of the tōdai, its dim flames still flickering away.
"Hah."
You huff softly, wandering over to cup the hizara in your hand, tilting your head as the flame dances in your palm. Gritting your teeth, your gaze flicks to the nearest fusuma, where a silver dragon glares back at you.
With a grunt, you underhand toss the oil dish at the panel, taking a step back as it lights up instantly. The fire devours its offering as it climbs up the wall, spitting out embers and charred pieces of rice paper that drift around you.
The warm glow of the flames reflects on the surface of your eyes as you watch it spread, exhaustion sinking back into your limbs now that the stone has finally gone quiet.
Black smoke furls up in the air, trapped by the ceiling, filling your lungs as flecks of floating ash land on your sweaty face. Exhaling a slow, shaky breath, it's like a switch flips, the last of your adrenaline dump wanes as you turn away, each step feels like wading through knee deep mud.
Reaching the entryway, you step through, lifting your head to stare across the courtyard.
Gods it's so quiet.
Your skull pounding, the pressure behind your eyes leaving your vision swimming. You wander to the edge of the engawa, your bleary gaze drifting over the ash. The fires. The collapsed sections of the shinden smoldering beneath the night sky.
Until you find yourself staring into a black wall of smoke. Then the hairs along your nape rise as a jittery ball of tension twists in your belly, leaving you stiffening.
The first thing you see is two pairs of glowing red eyes, followed by the large outline of Sukuna as he emerges like a demon straight out of hell.
His hair is slicked back, face smeared in soot, eyes wide and boring into you with that terrifying intensity, riding whatever fucked up high the fight left in him.
Your gaze trails down his muscular torso before you can stop it, watching the shifts of muscle with each step. The sweat glistening on his skin. The blood and ash smeared across his pecs.
The sight alone sends a shiver up your spine.
Not from fear. Oh no.
To your utter disgust and confusion, it ignites a heat between your thighs, your core aching with a need you've never felt before.
Sukuna lifts his head as he saunters closer, ash billowing up with each of his steps as his cold gaze stares into your own.
Gods above damn you, but you stiffen in place, unable to move, to breath, to think.
You should run. Do something. Anything.
But all you can do is watch, swallowing thickly as he climbs the steps, one by one until he reaches the top, pressing in close to loom over your exhausted form.
He tilts his head, trailing his hooded gaze down your body. Over the tears in your yukata. The exposed skin. The blood, sweat, and ash coating you. Only then do his eyes find yours again.
"You dare strike me woman?" he finally growls, leaning in close to your face. "It seems, my little General, you have grown a little too bold in my absence."
You grit your teeth, hiding your shaky breath as his hand drifts up, threading his fingers through the side of your head before fisting a handful of your hair, wrenching your neck back.
A hiss slips past your clenched teeth as the stinging pain shoots through your scalp, your fingers reaching up to dig into his wrist.
You glare up at Sukuna like a beast caught in a trap, twisting your body back and forth. Your nails claw into his wrist, shredding the skin, smearing his blood against your cheek.
Sukuna just smirks down at you, cocking a brow. Then he yanks you in closer, wrapping another arm around your lower back to hold you flush against him. The sudden motion leaves you dizzy as you let out a startled yelp, his skin burning hot against yours.
Your breaths feel unsteady, heart racing as another hand drifts up to grip your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks as he tilts your head back further, bearing down on you.
Gods, those eyes.
They trail over your face, finding your lips as they burn into you with a look so heated, it threatens to incinerate you alive.
"You forget yourself my little General," he hisses. "Baring your teeth at me, yet thinking there will be no consequence?"
You suck in a breath, thrashing against his hold as he leans in closer, mingling your breaths.
"Come then, let me teach you humility."
Before you can spit the retort burning on your tongue, his mouth crashes against yours, swallowing the sound whole.
You feel it for what it is.
There is no tenderness in it. No warmth. No affection. It's a declaration. A means to an end, if you will, of absolute control, his reminder to you what he sees as his own.
He forces his tongue past your teeth with a groan, invading your mouth to find yours, delving deeper to explore every inch with a hunger that leaves you utterly breathless.
Your body flushes hot, heart racing as you're overwhelmed by the rush of emotions and feelings.
Confusion. Hunger. Disgust. Desire.
Gods he's intoxicating.
Saliva trails between your chins until all you can taste is the blood and smoke on his tongue. Feel his nails raking down your waist, while that tension in your lower belly aches painfully now, leaving your body demanding more.
More of his mouth. His touch. More of him.
So much so, with each passing second your body falls deeper under his spell, losing itself to it's most primitive needs as your eyes drift closed, lips parting more for him as he groans again, holding you tighter.
Both of you are panting, your mind hazy, drunk on the feel of him. Drunk on the utter relief of finally feeling something good other than pain.
"Ngh...!"
A traitorous moan vibrates in your throat, muffled by his demanding mouth as your body melts against him, swallowing his groan as he deepens the kiss.
Your heart races, skin burning up as your hands find his nape, drifting higher to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer.
Sukuna smiles against your lips, sliding his lower hands down your hips and around to cup your ass, kneading his fingers into the taut flesh through the pathetic remains of your yukata.
Fuck, it kills you to admit how good he feels. The heat of his skin. The hard press of muscle against yours. The heave of his chest, and the way his heartbeat pounds against your own.
Call it the stone’s influence. Call it a dopamine high. Fuck, call it whatever the hell you want.
You just want more.
Your breasts press flush to his chest, beads of sweat trailing down between you. One of his hands cups the back of your head as yours glides down the ridge of his traps, finding his chest, your fingers exploring hard muscle as you lose yourself in the feel of him.
So by the time he breaks the kiss, you're already too far gone. Both of you are left panting as his mouth hovers near yours, your lips tender and throbbing, cheeks flushed red, every inch of you charged like a live wire.
He huffs out a breathy laugh as he tilts his head, savoring every filthy little hint of desire written across your face. Slowly your eyes flutter open, finding his, and you can feel your cheeks burning up as he nips your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth until it's left slick with him.
Goddamn it, you want nothing more than to feel his lips on yours again. To taste him. To feel his hands all over your body. To lose yourself in his ruthless touch so you can stop thinking for one fucking second.
He bares his canines in a wicked grin, and fuck, it’s downright evil, like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind, every depraved, desperate thought, and loves knowing he’s the one who put them there.
"You like that," he breathes, brushing his nose along your jaw. "Maybe I should just eat you whole."
His hands slide down from the curve of your bum to grip the backs of your thighs roughly, hooking his nails into the muscle and earning a pained hiss from you, beads of blood trickling down your skin.
A choked gasp follows as he abruptly hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before crushing you back against a charred wooden beam, trapping you with his body.
It's rough surface chafes into your back, singeing your skin. But your brain doesn’t even register it, not when you have Sukuna pressing flush to you, the damaged wood creaking from your combined weights.
He dips his head to rest his temple against yours, his hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear as he grinds his pelvis against you. And that's when you feel it, a new sensation tingling from your clit, feeding that aching tension in your belly until it nearly drives you mad.
You slide your hands up his pecs, finding his shoulders to dig your fingers in as you tip your head back, pressing your lips together, trying to stifle the humiliating sounds building in your throat.
But Sukuna just nips your ear, chuckling low as brushes his lips down the curve of your throat, biting and sucking the sensitive flesh.
"Come now," he breathes against your skin. "Let me hear your sweet sounds."
You whimper pathetically before gasping, squeezing your eyes shut as he follows up with another slow roll of his hips, the sensation sending a delicious shiver across your heated flesh.
Sukuna sucks in a hiss before exhaling shakily. You can feel his powerful body tensing against yours as his upper hands knead your waist and hips, every muscle rigid like he's barely holding himself back
Your inner walls throb painfully as another wave of heat rushes through your bloodstream. Sukuna hums low, dipping his head to rest his forehead in the crook of your throat, breathing you in while he pants against your collarbone.
"Mmph...!"
The low sound slips out before you can hide it, and Sukuna answers with a groan, grinding his hips harder, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips to hold you flush against his pelvis.
And that’s when you feel it.
The heavy ridge of his arousal throbbing against your clit. Your chest tightens as your eyes fly open, your mind snapping through the fog to finally process what the hell is happening.
You lift your head from the beam, glancing down the muscular back of the being lost in the feel between your thighs, the sight alone like a cold slap across the face.
Your body stiffens as that ugly ball of nerves twists your guts sick. Panic overtaking your body as you realize the compromising position you just allowed yourself in. The guilt for letting it get this far.
And who it's with.
Gods above, what the fuck am I doing...?!
More waves of embarrassment and shame follow as you run your nails down his lats. Seeing him this close, breathing in his musk, feeling the raw strength in his body, it finally hits you just how fucking huge Sukuna really is.
His height. His shoulders. The sheer mass of him.
He makes your own strength, your own powerful body nothing by comparison. And the worst part is that beneath that realization, beneath the fear and self contempt, something else still lingers.
That irrational fucking need.
For something...
For him.
Your heart races, breath hitching as Sukuna suddenly shifts, sinking his teeth into the muscle at the juncture of your throat. The sharp pain that follows has you crying out while he groans against your skin.
"Ngh!"
You grit your teeth through the wince, panting from the stinging throb as it mingles with the wet heat of his tongue, beads of blood trickling down over your collarbone.
You shudder involuntarily at the sensation, your body stiff, torn between fight or flight as your pulse bounds in your veins.
Sukuna suddenly pauses, clocking the subtle shifts in your body. Humming low, he turns his head slightly before inhaling deeply, basking in your scent.
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, vibrating through yours as he lifts his head and flashes you that devilish smile.
"Well, well, well," he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your lower lip. "My little General has never been fucked before, has she?"
You grit your teeth, turning your head away in disgust at his vulgarity. His words have their intended effect, flushing your cheeks hot as your jaw ticks, but you refuse to dignify him with a response.
Still, that doesn't change the fact you can feel his heated gaze burning into the side of your face as you look everywhere and anywhere but him, as though denying him your eyes might deny him the satisfaction too.
Sukuna just clicks his tongue, tilting his head slightly to take you in properly. There is nothing subtle in his expression, the bastard is enjoying this thoroughly, your humiliation, your anger.
"Why do you turn away in shame, hm?" he murmurs, gripping your chin to force you to look at him. "Why do you deny yourself what your body craves?"
He leans in, the corners of his eyes twitching once as his gaze trails over your flushed features.
"Or perhaps," he continues, finding your eyes, "it's because of another reason?"
He chuckles then as you suck in a breath, trying to turn away, but he just tightens his grip.
"Ahh," he breathes, grinning wickedly as his gaze flicks to your lips. "I see now."
You swallow thickly, furrowing your brow as you tip your head back, trying to fight for even a sliver of space.
"You do not see it, do you? How shamelessly your body gives itself away," he murmurs, sliding his hand along your cheek to cup the side of your head. "Your scent, it's a very sweet and unique one..."
He dips his head then, inhaling deeply, brushing his nose along the column of your throat.
"A virgin's fear."
A shudder ripples through you, goosebumps erupting across your flesh.
"Sugawara was a fool," he murmurs against your skin. "To have you, his little protégé, so close at hand all those years and not even think to fuck you? The man must be a eunuch."
The casual filth of his words, the way he so flippantly insults your mentor in such a disgusting, degrading way, leaves you beyond pissed as you level him with a murderous glare.
Sukuna's grin only widens as he leans into the shell of your ear.
"Or perhaps you were saving yourself for him, hm," he breathes. "The great General, holding out hope that one day he would see you as more than just his student. That he would take you into his bed and fuck you into his woman?"
You are seething at this point, blood boiling as you plant a palm against his chest, trying to wriggle free of his hold. But he only presses his hips harder against yours, pinning you in place, leaving the rough, charred wood of the beam digging into your lower back.
And like the ever faithful pest, your heightening emotional state feeds into the stone's punishing hold.
The conduit opens, flooding your heart with its cursed energy, invading your circulatory system to spread like a poison, burning you up from the inside out.
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood coats your tongue, fighting with everything in you to keep from crying out.
The sensation is nothing like the euphoric rush from earlier. Now the cursed energy is turning on you like a rabid dog, tearing into you at the seams, piece by little fucking piece.
A cold sweat breaks out across your skin as you try to pant through the pain. But truthfully? It’s getting harder and harder to bear, no matter how much your stubborn pride wants to refuse Sukuna the satisfaction.
Meanwhile, he just turns his head to rest his brow against your temple, chuckling low.
"Perhaps I ought to thank Sugawara," he growls. "For having the restraint not to indulge himself in you."
He leans back just enough to regard you fully.
"Because it means I’ll be the one to fuck you first. Claim you completely."
You let out a bitter cry of disgust. Your skin feels too tight, your body too hot, and the feel of Sukuna's body is too much.
Even as you thrash against his hold, struggling to break free, he merely hums in amusement, sliding his hands up from your outer thighs to grip your hips.
With a groan, he slowly grinds his hot, throbbing cock against your aching clit, the tension in your lower belly aching leaving you gasping.
The back of your head smacks against the beam as you grit your teeth, fighting your damnedest against the pain, the pleasure, and every fucked up sensation taking hold of your body.
Sukuna pays no heed to the way you turn your head away, nor to the way you jerk against him. If anything, your resistance only seems to amuse him, his grip tightening in answer on your hips as he runs his tongue up the length of your pulsing carotid.
"I’m going to fuck you over and over," he growls, emphasizing each word with a slow roll of his hips, drawing another humiliating sound from your throat.
"Fill this tight little hole so full of my seed you'll feel it dripping from you for days."
He gives another hard thrust, holding himself there until you feel the throbbing heat of his cock through his hakama.
"Until you remember that you're mine."
You jerk your head away, panting as heat flushes up your neck and burns across your face, visible even beneath the caked layers of ash and soot.
He'll never let me go.
The thought leaves you nauseous as you squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth.
So what am I am to do...?
Kill him or run.
Those are my only two options.
Sukuna doesn't even grant you a second to your thoughts before his hand shoots up to grip your jaw painfully, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your cheeks.
"Look at me," he snarls, narrowing his eyes as he tips your chin higher. "And hear me well, little General. Should the thought of flight so much as stir within that pretty head of yours, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth."
His hand finds the side of your head, fisting into your hair as he grits his teeth, glaring.
"There is no province in this age, no mountain, no forest, no shrine that could place you beyond my reach."
You press your lips into a thin line, the very warmth in your blood stolen as he turns his head, panting against the shell of your ear.
"And I will not stop there. Try to hide, and I will lay waste to everything in my path until I find you. Thousands will die before I am done, and their screams will carry to wherever you cower."
He pauses to release his grip in your hair, trailing his knuckle along the edge of your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat.
"Then you will have to live with the knowledge that all their blood is on your hands, little General. Their deaths. Their suffering. Their slow, agonizing ends. All because you dared to run from me."
Sukuna leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours as he stares deep into your eyes.
"You're mine," he rasps, his voice strained. "Now and forever. No one will ever touch you. Taste you. Fuck you. I'll be your first and I'll be your last. Your body and your soul, your pleasure and your pain, it all belongs to me."
Your lip curls up in disgust as that final thread of your restraint snaps.
Your mind has indulged your body enough. Coddled its weakness. Fed its fear. Its hunger.
No longer.
Now your wrath stakes its claim.
I did not just fight to break free from the cage the Zen'in would have sealed me in, only to now be imprisoned into another.
So, you move fast, ripping an arm free from where it was pinned between your bodies to cock it back, swinging with every thing you have.
Your fist connects with the ridge of Sukuna's jaw with a loud crack. The impact rings out, pain lancing up your arm from your knuckles to your elbow as your torso twists with the follow through.
But fuck is the pain is worth it. More than worth it, just to see his head snap to the side, eyes flying open at the audacity.
His grip slackens on your hips just enough, and you take the opening. Unwinding your legs from his waist, you brace your dominant foot on the beam behind you and push, twisting your body out of his grasp.
You topple the ground with a heavy thud, legs trembling with the sudden job of weight bearing, the muscles buckling under your weight and sending you stumbling forward onto your hands and knees.
Your chest is heaving as you scramble back up to your feet, leaping off the engawa only to collapse onto your hands and knees the second you touch the ground with a grunt, glancing over your shoulder.
Sukuna recovers instantly, working his jaw from side to side as he regards you with that cold, apathetic glare. His eyes narrow, but there's something incredibly unnerving burning in those red depths that leaves your heart racing.
Slowly, that sly smirk of his makes an appearance as he crosses both sets of arms, surveying you with a detached sort of superiority.
Your legs tremble like a newborn lamb’s, the muscles long past exhaustion as you still manage to clamber back to your feet. Squaring yourself to him, you lift your head and meet his stare with something feral.
Call it your cornered animal kind of look.
Your body stiffens, watching his hands as you brace for what will likely be a painful, messy death by dismantle or cleave.
But to your surprise, Sukuna tosses his head back in a bark of laughter, leaving you feeling incredibly uneasy. You back away a few steps as his laughter starts to die down, while he tilts his head and regards you with amusement.
"I do so relish it when my woman is full of such vitality," he muses, uncrossing his arms as he grins like a madman. "Don't lose that fire, my little General. I would find you dreadfully boring without it."
You scoff bitterly, shooting him a nasty look as he hops down from the engawa, sending up a billow of ash as he lands with a heavy thud.
Cursing under your breath as you nearly trip over your own feet stumbling back, getting three steps before doubling over with a strangled scream, your nails clawing at your chest.
The onyx stone pulses erratically, releasing more and more waves of its volatile cursed energy into your weakened body. The agony is so intense it steals the breath from your lungs, your knees giving out to send you crashing to the ground, barely catching yourself on your hands.
You squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach roils with nausea, leaving you dry heaving, strings of saliva dangling from your lips as your eyes water.
Your arms start to shake before buckling beneath you, sending you collapsing onto your side and rolling onto your back. Your spine arches as another raw scream tears from your throat, then another, and another, until your voice breaks.
It feels like you're being flayed alive from the inside out. Every nerve, every cell, every component of your being on fire with a stabbing kind of pain.
Beads of sweat start to form as the heat coming off your skin becomes unbearable, like you're caught in the worst throes of fever.
You rip open your yukata exposing your breasts to the cool night air while clawing frantically at your chest, shredding into your skin until it becomes a bloodied mess in a dire attempt to wrench the damn stone free.
But it's useless, the stone is embedded too deeply, its roots entangled in a place you cannot reach. The world around you begins to fade, until sight, sound, smell, and every other good sense is stripped away by the pain, until nothing remains of your coherence.
You don’t even register the heavy approaching footsteps, can’t even fathom when Sukuna crouches down next to you.
Tilting his head, he observes you quietly with a detached sort of fascination, that keen mind of his processing every little detail occurring before him.
"It seems you have physical limits when accessing the conduit," he muses, scratching his jaw idly. "Is it a limitation of you, or is it the stone?"
He clicks his tongue once, lifting his chin to stare down at you contemplatively.
"Or perhaps, it's a combination of both?" He murmurs, pausing once more, his brow furrowing slightly as he works out a thought.
"Mhm." He hums, reaching out to find the centre of your exposed torso, tracing his fingers in the dips between your ribs. Despite everything, his touch is surprisingly gentle, almost soothing against your feverish skin.
He glides his palm up you waist and across your belly to your sternum to rest it directly over the stone, splaying his fingers wide. The moment his hand makes contact, relief washes through you as the cooling sensation grows, spreading out from the stone in flourishing waves.
It travels through your bloodstream, dousing the inferno of cursed energy that has been eating you alive. Panting, you finally suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs as that flurry of pain eases off your chest.
Your body falls limp, muscles slack from the loss of tension, leaving you flaccid against the ashen earth. Blinking against your blurred vision, the world feels like it's spinning as you close your eyes, your temples throbbing.
Sukuna drops his hand to his side, staring down at your limp form as your body and mind finally unite in succumbing to exhaustion.
Through the brain fog, your ears pick up the low, approving hum rumbling from his throat. You don’t even bother fighting when his arms snake around your shoulders and beneath your knees, scooping you up and cradling you against his chest.
Your head falls against his shoulder, your body instinctively curling into his warmth despite everything. Sukuna shifts your weight in his arms, adjusting his hold until you sit snug against him, another contented hum vibrating through his chest as he nuzzles into your matted hair.
"You continue to surprise me," he murmurs. "Like I said, to think a mere human could wield such potent cursed energy and not be completely destroyed in the process?"
He chuckles low, tilting your head until you’re tucked beneath his jaw.
"You have utterly fascinated me, my little General."
His words barely register to you as your consciousness fades in and out, the last ounce of stimuli your tired brain can process are the subtle vibrations of Sukuna's deep voice against your cheek as he cradles you close.
"You have no idea the depths of depravity I will drag you down into," he breathes, resting his forehead against your temple. "Nor the twisted heights of pleasure I will make you ascend until you finally accept you're mine."
He brushes his nose against your skin, breathing you in.
MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: Malevolent Mercy on Ao3
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💥 Reader discretion is advised: VERY graphic descriptions of gore/violence/ Dub con💥
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Gods, the air is so still. So stale. So bloody dank.
Silence.
The only thing breaking it up is the crunch of your footsteps as they echo down the passage, disappearing into the vastness ahead. Filling your lungs steadily, your head buzzes with a euphoric sort of rush as you lift your chin to peer ahead into the dimness.
The walls seem to stretch on endlessly, lined with flickering torches that barely break up the shadows.
Blood roars in your ears, drowning out everything but the sweet little whispers in your mind. Your body is soaked in sweat, skin burning hot from the inside out. And yet, you welcome the flames.
Exhaustion, fear, pain. These weak emotions are no longer what spur you forward.
Oh no.
It's something deeper. Something darker.
You can hear the pounding of footsteps before the first pair of guards rounds the corner. The moment they spot you they halt in their tracks, eyes widening as their surprised gazes fall on you and your entirety.
Messy, matted hair and a torn yukata drenched in the blackened blood of an ame-onna. The claw marks and dirt coating your skin. The cold indifference in your face.
But it's your eyes that leave them visibly tensing. Red depths that almost glow in the low flames of the torches. A glare lost to madness. A look that thrives on the promise of death and chaos.
Their hands fall swiftly to their katanas, drawing the blades from their sheathes with a schiiiing. Your eyes flick downward, catching the subtle tremble in their grips, and the sight makes you grin.
You love seeing their fear. Fucking feed off it.
Narrowing your eyes, your head tilts slightly as you stalk toward them.
"Hah. Such bravado," you murmur. "Come closer then... little men."
The two guards grit their teeth, leveling the tips of their katanas towards you. Small beads of sweat break out across their brow as you lift your chin, chuckling low.
"Or die," you finish idly with a flick of your hand. An ear splitting shriek splits the air as the chains surge past you. Their thorned links lighting up the dark with a shower of sparks as they scrape against the stone.
The men spit out something foul, throwing their katanas up into a guard against the incoming strikes. But two more chains surge past your feet, slipping low to catch them by surprise, snagging their ankles.
Their eyes fly open as they scream while the chains strike fast, coiling up the length of their legs, shearing through their leather armor and hakama alike to flay flesh from bone.
Then just as fast, they pull taut, yanking their feet out from under them like a rug.
They hit the ground with a heavy thud as you cock a brow, watching with a detached sort of interest as the remaining chains slither in and constrict around their torsos.
The krrrk! sound of ripping leather fills the air as the links shred more of their armor apart, immobilizing them completely.
Warm blood coats the bottoms of your feet as you step over their struggling, screaming forms. Clicking your tongue in disgust, you flick your wrist.
The chains hiss in answer, eager to claim their pound of flesh, wrapping tighter and tighter, breaking bones and shredding their bodies apart until the guards are reduced to nothing.
You don't even glance back. Not when the warm splatter of wetness soaks into your yukata. Not when their howling pains go silent. Not even when the scent of iron fills your nostrils.
Instead you just continue prowling forward, picturing your father's face as something ugly burns in your chest. The chains growl, uncoiling themselves from the clumps of meat that were once human, bits of viscera stuck in their thorns.
They slither through your bloodied footprints, returning to your sides like loyal beasts as you step through the frame of the first doorway. Your eyes narrow as you glance around before your attention is pulled to the corner ahead.
Tilting your head slightly, your ears pick up on more familiar sounds.
Heavy footsteps. Rattling of leather plates. Clattering of swords and spears.
Hmph. More maggots...
More to kill.
You grunt low as a cluster of guards rounds into view, the ones at the rear stumbling into the first two when they freeze. All of their mouths fall slack as they take in the horror behind you.
Some turn white in the face while others swallow thickly at the sight of the blood splattered over the walls. At the bright red pools soaking into the dirt. At the steaming entrails and body parts.
Clenching their jaws, their eyes lock onto you as you halt, drawing their katanas in tandem. You cross your arms, almost serene as you scan each and every one of their faces.
One... Two... Three... Four.
Four. Four guards. How fucking boring.
"Demonic whore!" one spits.
"What kind of devilry is this?" another snarls.
One of the rear guards grits his teeth, leveling his katana at you. "We’ll cut your fucking head off for this!"
You huff out a dry laugh, glaring as your lips peel back into a sinister grin.
"Try."
The chains rear up, their ends coiling like snakes waiting to strike as you lift a finger, beckoning the men forward. The guard’s features harden, teeth gritted and lips curled in disgust, as they charge you all at once, katanas aimed for your throat.
Hmph, so they mean to make good on their promise of taking my head. How amusing.
You hold your head high, squaring your shoulders, still wearing that devilish smile as your eyes drop to their feet, timing each step.
One.
Two.
Three...
"Slaughter them."
You flick your wrist lazily the moment the guards reach halfway, and a bone chilling screech answers as your chains launch to intercept. The whoosh of air sends your hair whipping forward as they tear past you, chunks of their last victims glistening along their links.
The guards slide to a stop, eyes widening as they tense, fingers curling tighter around their hilts until their knuckles turn white. You savor it, the look of shock and fear written across all their faces as their brains try to process what the fuck is coming at them.
But kudos to them. The seasoned warriors are quick to snap out of it and adopt a defensive stance.
They move fast to arrange themselves in a wedge like formation, one forming the frontline point while the other three shuffle into place behind him, fanning out to cover their flanks and rearguard.
Each guard raises their katana beside their face, angling the flat of the blade just enough for its mirrored surface to reflect the torchlight.
Hmm. Not bad.
You click your tongue before erupting into a fit of laughter as the chains smash into their formation. Striking low, high, left, right, swarming in an ambush as the unhinged sound of your laughter leads the way.
Because you know something they don’t. Or perhaps they’re arrogant enough to convince themselves otherwise.
Want to know what it is? Without cursed energy, they’re nothing but sacks of flesh. Fodder for your chains to shred apart and feast upon.
A resounding claang rings out as metal clashes into metal. The front guard grunts as he is knocked back a step, recovering fast enough to raise the flat side of his blade just as the chain moves in for another strike.
A strident screeech fills the narrow passage as metal grinds against metal. Sparks fly in all directions as each man strains, pouring every ounce of strength into countering your technique.
You narrow your eyes, clicking your tongue before gritting your teeth.
"Break them."
The chains hiss, answering your call, shifting midair to strike for their wrists. One of the rear guards curses before screaming in pain as a chain snags his tsuka, ensnaring his hands before slithering up the length to encircle the katana in its spiked embrace.
The others follow suit, snagging their prey until every man is shouting or hissing in pain, one collapsing to a knee. The grating scrape of metal on metal sets your teeth on edge as the chains constrict all at once.
Blood drips onto the ground, bones visible from their shredded fingers as their katanas shake under the pressure. A creaking sound follows, and the guards watch in horror as the blades explode one by one, shards of steel clattering to the ground around them like music to your ears.
The guards stumble back as panic overrides discipline, leaving them tripping over one another as your chains swarm in for the kill.
One screams, trying to crawl away on mangled hands, only for a chain to ensnare his ankle and drag him back. His hand flies out, gripping another guard’s hakama and pulling him down with him just as another chain moves in to wrap around his torso.
More piercing screams bounce off the stone walls as each chain captures its prey.
What follows is a sick symphony of madness.
Leather armor tears while skin and muscle rip. Bones break. Howls of agony and desperate gasps for air.
All the while the chains hiss, hungry for more. They shred, rip, tear. Organs rupture and lungs collapse, choking off the guard's screams into wet, gurgling wheezes.
Faces turn red, then blue. Eyes bulge from sockets, the whites turning bloodshot as life is inexorably squeezed out.
Yet still. You watch mercilessly, crossing your arms as you glare down with indifference.
For what mercy is there in war? In death? In this cursed world the Zen’in feel so inclined to trap you in?
None.
Lifting your chin, you stare blankly ahead while uttering the single command.
"Tear."
And tear they do.
Each chain wrenches its captive taut, hauling the limp body off its feet as one end spears into the stone ceiling, anchoring itself while the other end pulls down.
It's like a fucked up kind of play where your chains are the puppeteers, and the guards, their marionettes.
But then? They explode as their torsos are ripped in half.
Chunks of meat and viscera splatter across the walls and floor as blood sprays in every direction. You squint as it spatters across your face, leaving you spitting and blinking it from your lashes.
The chains toss what's left of them onto the ground with a wet plop as you run a hand through your hair, brushing the bloodied strands from your eyes. Whining, the chains knock a limb or two carelessly aside as they slither closer, nudging your hand.
Glancing down, you cock a brow and wave them off with an annoyed hiss, only for your eyes to catch on the glint of metal. Your lips curl into a smile as you bend down, fingers closing around two intact katanas the fools must have lost amidst their panicked chaos.
Testing the weights in your palms you huff out a laugh before proceeding to step over the maimed piles of meat, continuing down the path and around the corner.
Reaching the second doorway, you step through, only to halt as a hiss slips past your teeth, your hand finding the stone as a burning sensation stirs beneath its pulse.
You brace your other forearm on the wall, closing your eyes as you focus on panting through the pain.
All you can hear is his voice. All you can feel is him. As if the stone is consuming you whole, pouring a fresh surge of cursed energy through your body until it flows hot through your veins.
"Show them."
"Use it."
"Kill them all."
Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes open and closed repeatedly while inhaling deeply, trying to calm your racing heart.
"Use it."
"Burn it all down."
Slowly you lift your head, but the moment you straighten, you're hit with another rush. Your skin flushes hot, mind buzzing and chest tight as your body struggles to contain Sukuna's volatile cursed energy.
"Come to me."
Sucking in a breath past your teeth, you force yourself forward as the burning pain starts to wane. Until all you can feel is the lingering rawness beneath.
Rage. Chaos. Destruction.
All of it boils in your blood as you round another corner, finding yourself at the base of an aged stone staircase. It's steep and dark, extending upwards towards a small source of orange light flickering in an archway.
"Mhm."
You hum as you begin your ascent. Your foot slaps softly with each step as you fix your cold gaze intently to the top. All the while, your chains follow obediently, clinking as they slither behind you.
Your adrenaline has your senses on overdrive. Listening for the faintest of sounds. Watching for the barest flicker of movement. Even the faintest whiff of sweat or fear.
But then your eyes narrow as the torchlight is disturbed. Your ears perk up first to the sound of heavy footsteps as more clansmen appear at the top, blocking out the light as they pant, staring wide eyed down at you.
Archers.
They move fast, notching an arrow before drawing taut, aiming right at you.
"Demon!" one of them spits. "We'll send you back to the pit you crawled out of!"
You don't even blink, just tilt your head slightly while keeping your glare trained on their faces. But that doesn't stop the smile that slowly pulls at your lips.
The archers suck in a breath and hold it, releasing almost simultaneously as the bowstrings snap forward with a twang. Your eyes narrow as your right arm moves, swinging up to parry the first arrow with a tink! It flies past your ear, its tip bouncing off the stone before clattering to the ground.
THWACK!
The other finds its mark, piercing through your left shoulder. The force knocks you down a step, twisting your torso as the arrowhead bursts out the back.
It doesn't even faze you.
Oh no. You simply reach up and rip it out with a wet schlunk, leaving behind a small, gaping hole, flecking fresh blood across the steps. More warm wetness seeps down your front as your shoulder throbs.
You chuckle lightly, tossing the arrow aside with a clatter.
The archers stare wide eyed, faces paling as one takes a step back before they exchange a look. Your glare drops to their shaking hands, fingers fumbling through their quivers.
You simply smile as they each nock a new arrow, the tremor in their arms vibrating down to their very fingertips, leaving them gritting their teeth to hold steady.
Ah panic, so beautiful to see. So pathetic.
"W-what... are you?" The closer archer hisses, narrowing his eyes. "A cursed spirit?"
You don't say a word. You just fix your hooded, apathetic stare onto his face, lifting your chin as you simply offer them an evil fucking grin.
"Die!"
"Cursed demon!"
They bellow out in unison, letting their arrows fly. Their bow arms drop as they watch the shots cut through the air, headed straight for your heart. You pause mid step just as a piercing shriek shatters the air from the blackness behind you.
The archers barely manage to glimpse over your shoulder before a blur of spikes tear past you, intercepting the arrows mid flight and splintering them into pieces that scatter across the stone.
"Hmph." You grunt, kicking aside one of the broken bamboo shafts as you resume your advance.
First mistake. The fools imbued those arrows with cursed energy....
My chains are drawn to cursed energy.
You throw your head back in a nasty laugh, the cackling noise bouncing off the walls as your chains start hissing, slithering to your flanks.
The archers throw their bows to the ground, stumbling backwards, looking like death warmed over.
The closer one suddenly trips over the other's foot, yanking him down with him as they both land hard on their asses. Their mouths fall open, chests heaving as they stare at one other. Something real ugly finally dawns across their ashen faces when they look back at you.
They aren’t facing the General.
They're facing a monster.
Huffing a laugh under your breath, you flick your hand forward.
Sparks fly off the stone as the chains tear up the last few steps, shrieking as they snag their prey. They strike for their midsections, barbs hooking deep before the links wrap around them, shredding through leather and skin as if it were nothing more than rice paper.
Raw screams of agony split the air as the chains constrict tighter and tighter, until every last speck of air is squeezed from their lungs.
SCHLLLUCCCK.
RRRIIIPPPP.
Such sweet sounds to your ears as they're shredded in half, their torsos falling back with heavy thuds while the chains start to uncoil. Entrails spill out in pink glistening coils in a wet plop, steaming in the cool stairwell as their lower halves hit the ground with a splat.
Your nose wrinkles as a fecal kind of stench permeates through the iron smell, leaving your stomach churning in disgust. However, the actual sight of it? You don't give a shit, simply stepping over the mangled remains without so much as a downward glance.
The hunger in your chest continues to build and build, smothering your mind from any sense of reason, leaving nothing but the raw need to slaughter.
Your chains retract to slither back to your side once more, dragging chunks of viscera still stuck in their thorns. They clink lazily up each step behind you, whining for more.
Feral temperamental beasts, nothing like your innate technique. One of adaptation. The perfect defence, and the perfect counteroffence.
But these new ones?
They're bound to you in such an intrinsic way, it’s as if they can read your very mind, carry out your will without so much as a muttered incantation.
You can feel it in them, that heavy, dark cursed energy thrumming through every link. That same feeling that emanates from the stone.
They savor the hunt. Crave it.
And that begs the question.
Who am I to deny them that?
You climb the last three steps and emerge fully from the archway, halting just beyond it. Your eyes narrow as you curl your bare toes into the gravel, scanning your surroundings.
Ah, the garden.
Slowly you turn your head to the right until your eyes land on the closest entrance back into the shinden. Inhaling deeply through your nose, you make your way over, the scrape of gravel trailing behind you as your chains stay close.
Sliding open the shōji, you step inside to peer into the dim space. It looks to be some sort of training hall; a wide open room with high ceilings, wooden practice swords mounted along the walls, and a few racks of leather armor arranged off to the side in the corners.
Four todai lanterns burn softly around the space, their flickering orange flames reflecting off the polished dark wood. You scan the various annexes branching off from the main room, your memory not exactly serving you well in this scenario more than blind luck.
Doesn't matter. You'll find him and kill every last Zen'in while you do it.
Your bastard of a father.
Breathing in deep, you stalk across the space, the dull thuds of your steps barely audible over the deafening pound of your heartbeat. Lamplight flickers on the side of your face as you suddenly pause, slowly turning your head to stare at the warm glow of light.
"Burn it all."
"Burn it to the fucking ground."
Gritting your teeth, you reach over, curling your fingers around the wooden stand, your hands trembling as your breaths quicken. Lifting your chin, you inhale briskly through your nose before shoving it over. The hizara clatters to the ground, rolling on its rim and spilling a glistening trail of oil until it knocks against the wall.
The flames follow eagerly, lighting up the deliciously flammable shōji. You watch with a detached sort of fascination as the blaze starts climbing up the rice paper, hissing and crackling, spitting embers into the air.
It doesn't take long before you're staring at a wall of flames, the heat radiating over your skin as it spreads, igniting everything in its path. Exhaling softly, you turn away and continue on, a flush breaking out over your body as the hot air becomes stifling, stinging your nares with each breath.
Soon the roof begins to groan, followed by the splintering of wooden beams as it sags.
KRR-CRRRRACK!
BOOM!
The roof finally gives up the fight and caves in. The sound vibrates through the floor and up your legs as you wander around the corner, leaving behind a trail of bloodied footprints.
What follows is more crackling flame. More spitting embers. More weakened support beams blowing out one after another, and the odd scream or two from the sorry bastards unfortunate enough to be buried underneath.
"Hmph."
You grunt under your breath, turning your head slightly as your ears perk to the chaos rising behind you. Shouts of alarm. The pounding of footsteps. Men barking orders over each other as this section of the shinden erupts to life.
"Is that fire?!"
"The training hall! It’s coming from the training hall!"
"What the fuck is going on down there?!"
You run a hand through your hair, brushing the crunchy, bloodied strands off your brow as you keep your hooded eyes fixed ahead.
The annex hall stretches out into a quieter section of the shinden, leaving your gift of calamity to carry on behind you. Your gaze drifts left and right, idly passing over the shōji screens cordoning off various rooms, each one painted with images of cranes or fish leaping out of roaring rivers.
Hm. Such pretty things, all of them.
Pretty things burn so easily.
You click your tongue once in disgust, wandering deeper into the estate until you find yourself emerging into another spacious room.
Glancing around, you notice the shōji have been replaced by fusuma panels. The thicker layers of cloth and paper completely obscure what little moonlight you have, and plunging the space into darkness.
Your brows furrow as you stalk toward the centre of the room, your brain slowly piecing two and two together.
Fusuma panels. No tōdai lamps. Too much quiet.
Hmm.
This must be the sleeping quarters.
The air is so still, so undisturbed, even the distant clamor of chaos barely disrupts the quiet.
"Nngh...!"
Your bloodshot eyes snap to the right, widening as a low whimper follows, then the ruffling of silks. Gritting your teeth, you curl your hands tighter around your katanas as you stalk towards the fusuma.
Baring your teeth in snarl, you pause right in front of the panel, lifting your chin. The faintest outline of your silhouette darkens over the screen as you raise your katanas, puncturing through before slashing them down in a cross strike, leaving the torn edges flapping.
Inhaling deeply, you slip a foot through, planting it onto the tatami before ducking your head to step inside, your eyes narrowing into a glare the moment you lift your head.
There, pressed against the far wall cowering, is a woman.
You tilt your head, taking in the fancy white and pink florals stitched into her fine silk kimono. Obviously a woman of status. Her dark hair is pulled back tight and twisted into a bun at the base of her skull, secured with an equally fancy jade comb.
Your eyes drift down from the look of horror on her pale features to her arms, where she clutches a small, trembling body tightly against her side.
Genji.
The boy's face is buried in his mother's chest, his small hands fisting into her kimono as she scrambles to shield him from view.
Too late.
Her eyes widen as she stares into your cold, dead ones, then to the katanas in each of your hands. Tears start to trail down her cheeks as she whimpers, trying to press herself further into the wall, desperate to escape your burning red gaze.
Slowly, you start to cross the tatami, taking in her measly attempts to hide Genji with nothing short of contempt.
The woman suddenly lets out a choked sob, waving her hand between you as her other arm tightens around her son.
"P-please," she stammers out. "I beg of you, show mercy! He's just a child."
You say nothing to her pleas, continuing forward until you stop just shy of their cowering bodies. The woman tips her head back, dragging her gaze up your blood soaked front before finding your eyes once more.
For a long moment that probably feels like a lifetime to her, she stiffens beneath your stare as you simply regard her in silence, your face devoid of any emotion as you watch the very warmth drain from hers.
In its place? Pure unadulterated terror.
She sees you for what you are. The embodiment of death. A cold, emotionless god of slaughter incapable of something as trivial as mercy for her. For the Zen'in. For this whole cursed fucking place.
"G-General?"
The tiniest, most innocent voice suddenly mumbles through the tension as your gaze flicks downward. Genji sniffles, rubbing at his nose once before staring up at you wide eyed.
"General is that you...?"
The corner of your eyes twitch once as you watch the boy suddenly tear himself free from his mother's arms. She cries out hysterically, stumbling forward to grab the edge of his jinbei, but he wriggles free, leaving her hands snatching at empty air.
"Genji!" she gasps. "Stop!"
The boy keeps his soft gaze trained on yours while he takes a small, hesitant step closer.
"General, what's going on?" he whispers. "Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?"
His mother lets out another choked cry, gritting her teeth.
"Genji, no!" she hisses. "Get away from her, it’s not safe!"
"Don't be afraid mother," he murmurs, glancing over his shoulder with a small smile. "It's the divine General, she would never hurt us."
The woman's eyes dart between you and her son as her hand finds his forearm, tugging him frantically. But he doesn't relent, just stares up at you while your red eyes bore into his soft, innocent ones.
"General?" he whispers. "What happened to you...?"
You inhale deeply, your jaw ticking as that ugly rottenness stirs inside deep inside of you. Your grips tighten around the katanas until the veins bulge in your hands.
You blink, and suddenly he's pouncing on you, wrapping his arms snug halfway around your waist as he buries his face into your belly. You stiffen with a small gasp, feeling the tremble through his slight frame as he clings onto you like you're the safest thing in the world.
Your heart starts to race, breaths quickening as you're hit with a sudden burning rush tearing through your chest.
Gods, it hurts.
Rage. Pain. This raw hunger to destroy every last bastard who has Zen'in blood flowing through their veins.
You grit your teeth, lifting your eyes to the woman. They drift over the fear in her eyes with nothing short of indifference, over her wet lashes, the shiver in her jaw.
All of it feeding into that hunger growing more volatile inside you.
Tear her to shreds. Rip her limb from limb. Break the boy's neck and watch her wail.
Your fingers twitch once as you suck in a breath.
"Genji," you rasp, keeping your hooded gaze fixed on his mother's face.
She knows.
The bitch knows.
Genji shifts to turn his head and follow your line of sight, his eyes widening as he takes in his mother's petrified form before tilting his head back to glance up.
The moment you meet those dewy gold eyes, your stomach knots you sick.
You can feel it. Hear it. Some remnant of your old self. The General, calling out to you.
The tension in your muscles eases just a smidgen, the corners of your eyes softening as you watch a single tear trail down his cheek.
"General, I'm scared." he sniffles, wiping it away with his knuckle. "I can hear screaming, are we under attack?"
Your throat suddenly tightens as you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head once as Sukuna's voice fills your mind.
"Kill the brat"
"Kill him now..."
"Or forfeit your freedom forever."
Another surge of his cursed energy floods into your heart, smothering the beating muscle with its poison as the stone pulses wildly against your skin.
Hatred. Rage. Indifference.
You grit your teeth as your breaths turn shaky. The emotions are so strong, demanding action, yet still, you remain frozen. Even as Genji reaches out to take a handful of your yukata, curling his trembling fingers tight into the bloodied cloth.
"General you’ll keep us safe, won’t you?" he murmurs, his little voice cracking. "And I know father will send our clan’s strongest sorcerers to aid you."
You stare blankly down at your little brother, your insides twisting with more knots as you take in his innocence. His blind faith. The way he reaches for you like the thousands of children before him who once sought the General’s protection.
And yet, it enrages you.
It enrages you that he has no idea of the horrors that built these walls. Of the cruelty festering beneath the Zen'in name. Of the blood spilled to preserve their techniques, their heirs, their pride. Of what they have done to you. To your mother.
"The Zen'in," you hiss, "will do no such thing."
Genji blinks up at you, his little brow furrowing.
"What do you mean?" he asks. "Father says the Zen'in have served the capital for centuries and that our bloodline is blessed with strength."
A bitter laugh tears from your throat before you can stop it.
"Blessed...?" you repeat, huffing out another laugh. "The Zen'in clan is nothing but a rotten disease that will destroy anything it cannot use or deems unworthy."
Genji drops your yukata to hug himself, his eyes darting between you and his mother.
"I-I don't understand," he croaks. "Why are you saying this, General?"
Your jaw ticks as you regard him coldly, burning up inside from the pain, the rage, the urge to strike them both down and be done with it. But there's something... something in that soft, innocent face searching yours so intently that stays your hand.
Still, you can feel it deep inside you. Mercy and malevolence. Two halves of a whole at war with one another, tearing at your very soul.
"Genji," you murmur, "there are things about this clan you do not know. Terrible things."
The boy swallows thickly before wetting his dry lips, the hairs rising along his forearms.
"What things?" he whispers meekly. "What are you talking about, General?"
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to focus through the rush of blood pounding inside your skull while your mind forms the truth on your tongue.
"I'm not just the General, Genji," you say softly, opening your eyes. "I too bear the Zen'in name, I’m your kin."
His mouth falls open, eyes popping open to the size of saucers.
"My kin? But how can that be...?" he breathes. "My father never said..."
"Our father," you hiss through gritted teeth. "Is nothing but a cruel beast. He betrayed me, betrayed my mother and cast us aside, treated us as nothing more than tools to be discarded at his whim."
The boy shakes his head, backing away a step as the blood drains from his face.
"I don't understand," he breathes, clutching his head between his hands. "Y-you are... He didn't..."
His eyes roam over your tattered form, taking in every detail as if seeing you for the first time. The katanas gripped in your hands. The cold fury etched into your features. The eerie red depths of your eyes.
"But why would father not say anything?" Genji hugs himself once more as he lifts his gaze. "Why would he keep this from me? From everyone...?"
"LIES!" Genji's mother suddenly screeches, lunging forward to hook an arm around his belly and drag him back against her.
"Don't listen to her, Genji! Can you not see it?" she hisses, pointing a shaking finger at you. "Look at her eyes! That's no kin of ours, that's a cursed demon wearing human flesh."
You lift your chin, matching her energy with a nasty glare as her lip curls up in disgust.
"You're the only true heir of this clan," she spits, turning to shield him from you. "Not her! That thing is an ill omen that's crawled out of the lowest pits of Jigoku to defile our bloodline and bring ruin upon the Zen'in!"
Genji glances up at his mother, stiffening in her grasp while his little features scrunch up in confusion.
"But mother, she is the divine General," he whispers, trying to wiggle free of her hold. "She protects people. She doesn't hurt them..."
She jerks him still, backing into the corner while keeping her panic stricken gaze trained on your face.
"Do not be deceived by her treachery!" she rasps, pressing her back flush to the fusuma. "Can you not see the truth before your eyes? That thing is no divine General! And she is certainly not a Zen'in!"
You throw your head back in a bitter laugh, blinking up at the ceiling. Because really? That's all you can do.
Her words, her utter contempt, it's like a festering rot that seeps into the cracks of your heart. Cracks you tried so hard to mend after you escaped all those years ago.
But here they are, tearing wide the fuck open and pouring forth twenty years of rage.
Rage against her.
Against your father.
Against the entire Zen'in bloodline.
You let out a gasp as another searing wave of cursed energy surges through your veins, lowering your apathetic gaze back onto her. She whimpers, burying her face into Genji's hair as you tilt your head and take another step forward.
"Kill them all."
Your pulse is bounding. Your skin is flushed hot. Your eyes narrow as your fingers twitch, every part of your body charged like a livewire as you take another step forward. Only to suddenly glance back.
Footsteps and voices...
Lots of them.
Gritting your teeth, you fix your glare back on the woman and take another step, your muscles shaking with each hit of adrenaline as that nasty part of your mind screams at you.
Do it.
Slaughter everything he holds dear just as he did to you.
"P-please," the woman whimpers, cowering over Genji. "If blood is what you seek, then take mine! But I beg of you, spare my son."
You just stare down at them apathetically.
Spare him?
Your jaw ticks.
No matter how young he is...
Genji is still a Zen'in. Still another blade for your father to hold to your throat.
Gritting your teeth, you raise your right arm to draw the katana back, fixing your feral gaze on her tear stricken face. The woman's scream pierces the air as you swing the blade around...
Only to freeze.
She flinches as the tip rests against her pulsing carotid, a bead of blood welling up to trail down its edge. Shes sobbing now with her eyes squeezed shut while you pant above her, your knuckles white from gripping so hard.
Slowly, you lift your chin, knots twisting your guts sick as your cold gaze falls on Genji's.
There’s fear in those gold depths, yes, but also confusion. Uncertainty. And something else. Something that calls out to you past Sukuna's voice. Past the bloodlust. Past the rage, the hate, all of it.
Trust.
Genji still looks to you with trust. Despite the blood soaking your yukata. Despite the madness burning in your eyes and the indifference in your face.
He still looks to you as the General. Not the monster his mother claims.
Your heart starts to ache as a memory flashes behind your eyes.
Gods, you see yourself in this child. Remember being nestled in your mother’s arms. Can still hear her whispers. Feel her fingers running through your hair on the day she said her last goodbye.
You remember what it felt like when that warmth, that love, was ripped away. You remember the pain. Remember how it nearly killed you.
So how can you condemn Genji to the same fate?
No. I can’t do it. Not to this kind, blameless boy.
The moment that thought takes shape, a wave of clarity cuts through the noise in your head, lifting the veil of hatred from your eyes, until at last, you see Genji for what he truly is.
Not a threat. Not an heir destined to enslave you, nor your fathers puppet.
But your little brother.
An innocent caught in the web of the Zen'in clan's cruelty, just as you are.
Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you let your arm fall slowly to your side before taking a step back. Genji's mother lets out a gasp that nearly sounds like a gag, before burying her face in the crook of his neck, sobbing.
You squeeze your eyes open and closed, shaking your head, fighting the blurriness as the stones hold starts to wane. You can feel it, that fog over your brain is lifting completely now, your heart slowing into a calmer rhythm.
Blinking up at the ceiling, the red in your irises starts to fade, until only the gold of the General remains.
But such awakening comes at a cost.
Sukuna's cursed energy, the source of your strength, your rampage, is diminishing. Shrieks fill the hall as four of your cursed chains dissolve into the wooden floor, the stone's conduit now channeling only enough energy for you to maintain two.
Clicking your tongue in irritation, you glance over your shoulder towards the pounding of footsteps drawing closer to your position. Narrowing your eyes, you inhale briskly against the burning pain coming from the stone while a fresh wave of adrenaline fuels your body.
"General...?" Genji whispers.
You glance back, your expression unreadable as your gaze lowers to his mother.
"Go," you growl. "Take Genji and flee from this place and do not return."
"Why would you...?"
"Do not mistake this mercy for kindness," you cut her off, lifting your head. "Go with the knowledge that you were not wrong in what you named me. I am a demon, and I shall lay waste to every living, breathing Zen'in in this place until only ash remains."
You draw in another deep breath, narrowing your eyes.
"Now, I shall grant you the same courtesy once given to me."
You point your katana toward the wall, in the rough direction of the north.
"At the northwestern edge of the estate, there is a hidden gate, pass through it, and the forest will conceal you. Forsake your names, strip your titles. Forget the Zen'in and all that you were and begin anew."
Your gaze suddenly hardens.
"And pray our paths never cross again."
Without so much as another glance, you turn your back on them and begin to cross the space toward the wrecked panel. The footsteps and the familiar clatter of katanas in their sheaths are nearly on top of you now, the pounding vibrations traveling up through your shins.
"Wait General...!" Genji suddenly pipes up, followed by the rustling of silks as the boy struggles against his mothers hold. "What of father? What will become of him?!"
"Sshhhh!" Genji's mother hisses, muffling his next question with her hand over his mouth. "Your father will be fine, now come."
You hear more rustling silk and a muffled yelp, followed by the light patter of footsteps disappearing out the back of the room before a panel slams shut.
May you live well, Genji, far away from the rot of this cursed place.
Stepping through the panel, you angle towards the far corridor, sliding your stance wide and distributing your weight through the balls of your feet. Bracing. Just as the first flash of movement rounds the corner, followed by slurs of insults as they funnel into the room.
"Demonic whore!"
"Traitorous bitch!"
"We shall mount your head upon a pike for this!"
You hold your head high, glaring as you raise your katanas. Sure, having only two chains at your flanks is irritating in itself. But that just means you're going to have to get in nice and close.
Three heavily armored samurai spread out in position, eyes narrowed and lips sneering in disgust beneath the slits of their iron helmets.
"Hmph." You smirk, carefully studying each and every one of them. You can tell they're elite warriors, battle tested and ferocious in their united goal of bringing you down.
Your eyes flick down to survey over their weapons.
Ōdachi class...
Hah. That grants them the advantage of range. I'll have to press in close.
Your eyes narrow as the fine hairs along your body stand on end.
Cursed energy signatures...
Those greatswords are imbued with it.
Gritting your teeth, you slide a foot back, lowering your centre of gravity further as your chains hiss and slither between your legs, antsy to strike.
Damn, these men are far more dangerous than the guards you previously butchered.
Hah. So be it.
"Surrender now, General!" the captain spits, leveling his ōdachi at you. "Or forfeit your life!"
You bare your teeth in a feral grin, squaring off as the left samurai breaks away first, charging forward with a roar, raising the blade over his head to swing down in a power strike.
You suck in a breath and throw up your katanas in a cross block, your arms vibrating as the steel connects with a resounding clang! Grunting, you dig your heels in and sink lower, engaging your leg muscles to take the brunt of it as he drives his weight down, trying to break your guard.
"Cursed whore," he spits, bearing down on you with all his might. "I'll take your head for this betrayal!"
Your biceps and thighs start burning as you drive against him, his feet sliding across the wood. The man is strong, you'll give him that. Gritting your teeth, you catch the flash of motion from the corner of your eye as the other two fan out, seeking to flank you.
You narrow your eyes back on your own opponent as the chains lash out with a shriek to engage the others.
Your opponent's eyes flick towards the blur of spikes, and you take advantage of the lapse in focus to drive your knee up hard, imbuing your strike with cursed energy to breach through the rawhide of his armor and into his gut.
He doubles over with a gag, trails of spit dangling from his gasping mouth as his face reddens. But to your surprise, he manages to arch back, dodging the slash that would have severed his head, panting as he resets his stance.
The bastard is quick to recover, planting his right foot as he draws the ōdachi back to his ear, sidestepping to change the angle before swinging wide for your midsection.
With a grunt, you drop your left foot back, twisting your torso as you thrust your left katana down to parry.
SCHIIIIINNGG!
The clash vibrates up your arm and into your injured shoulder still bleeding profusely from the arrow puncture. With a snarl, you twist your hips back around to counter with a right horizontal slash aimed for his exposed neck.
But he's fast, ducking under the strike at the last second.
You leap back as he answers with another wide slash, the ōdachi hacking through the air and missing your unarmoured belly by only a handful of centimetres.
This opens up the space between you, giving him the advantage.
Dammit, I can't let him have range.
Sucking in a breath you push off to the right fast, planting your left foot before torquing your hips, bringing your right leg around with all the force you can muster.
The samurai curses, unable to raise his heavy sword in time to block before your instep, fortified with cursed energy, slams right into the centre of his chest. A crunch sounds out as all the air is knocked out of his lungs with a ooof!, sending him flying across the room.
"Ugh!" he growls as his body smashes into the floor, skidding across the boards until his helmet crashes into the wooden frame of the fusuma. He starts hacking between gasps, forcing himself upright slowly, somehow, still having managed to hold onto his heavy sword.
You waste no time and move in to press your advantage. But his head snaps up, and the tough bastard manages to scramble back to his feet by the time you’re right on top of him.
Screeches pierce the air behind you as your chains fend off the other two, their barbed links scraping against their ōdachi with every parry and failed attempt to bind.
Sparks spray outward in bursts, the clash of metal on metal ringing in your ears.
Smoke starts to drift in from the corridor, thickening the air and scratching your throat with each breath. The fire is spreading, likely consuming most of the eastern wing by now.
Hah.
Good.
You grin just as the samurai pushes off the wall to lunge at you with a wide swing. You pivot on your dominant foot and thrust down your right katana in a block, feeling the vibration shoot through your elbow as you parry it away before ducking in close, pressing into his space to take away his range.
Your muscles burn, sweat stings your eyes, blood pounds in your ears as you test his defences with a flurry of strikes. Trying to find the cracks in his stance as the room fills with the sounds of grunts, screeches and clangs.
The samurai is skilled, you'll give him that.
But you're the General.
Warm blood trickles down your left arm, your fingers going numb as you cross your blades in another quick block, trapping his ōdachi between them and leaving him gritting his teeth, arms shaking as he tries to break free.
Behind you, the chains strike fast, testing high, then low, right, left. But are parried in a shower of sparks each time, unable to sink their thorns in to bind as the samurai hold their own.
You narrow your eyes on your opponents, lungs burning, yet you smile as he pants while his expression twists into something ugly.
You can see it. The all consuming rage taking hold, the burning desire to slaughter you, to reclaim honor for his clan.
But the thing is, his rage is his weakness.
His honor?
His blind spot.
Sucking in a deep breath, you pivot while releasing your cross block which causes him to stumble, forcing him to throw his foot forward to catch himself before resetting into a sloppy guard, angling the ōdachi across his front.
You press in and swing your left katana for his knee. As expected, he takes the bait to protect his leg, and in that split second, you've created your opening.
Shifting your weight fast, you twist back around while inverting your grip on the right katana, driving the blade back and piercing right through the leather and into the flesh of his flank, burying it a quarter deep.
The samurai howls in pain as his back arches, sucking in gasps between gritted teeth as he glares from the corner of his eye.
But he's a warrior to the core.
With another growl of pain, he moves, twisting his body free to wrench the hilt from your fingertips, leaving the blade embedded in place.
He takes advantage of the fact you're down a katana and swings hard for your throat, driven by enough rage to cleave your head right off your shoulders. You arch back just in time to watch a few wayward strands of your hair get sliced as the whoosh! of the blade flies past.
Your eyes widen, then narrow as you watch the little bits of hair float to the floor, showing just how fucking close you were to losing your goddamn head.
The samurai gets caught up in the momentum of his swing, thrown off balance as he suddenly doubles over from his injury. Glaring, you dart forward and drop your shoulder, rolling over his back before landing low onto the balls of your feet in front of him.
His eyes widen, mouth slack as he pants before his wild gaze flicks to you, just as you push off your back foot and drive the katana up, piercing straight through his leather armor and into his chest until the bloodied tip bursts out his back.
He staggers backward, lowering the ōdachi to his side while his other hand clutches the katana's hilt. Wet, gurgling wheezes fill the air between his raspy breaths, blood trailing down the corners of his mouth as he spits out a strangled curse before gritting his red stained teeth.
But the bastard doesn’t stop.
He breaks out into a coughing fit, blood flecking across your face, making you blink just before he grips his blade with both hands, driving it upward for your belly with the intent to impale.
But you throw yourself aside into a dive as he thrusts through the empty air with a grunt of pain.
You huff out a brisk exhale as you roll through the momentum to spring up to your feet, squaring off with him as your fingers twitch around...
Nothing.
Your katanas, they’re still buried in your opponent.
Shit.
The samurai manages to straighten, his breaths reduced to wet rasps as he channels cursed energy into his ōdachi until the long, narrow blade is crackling with it. You widen your stance, narrowing your eyes into focus as the fine hairs on your sweaty nape stand on end.
That cursed energy signature...
It's coming from the cursed tool.
Your gaze darts over his feet, his stance, the blood pooling on the floorboards beneath him before flicking up to his face as he charges forward, forcing you to dive under another one of his wild swings that leaves him stumbling as his attacks grow clumsy from blood loss.
Dammit!
You recover to your feet, cursing yourself internally as your hit hard, hit aggressive strategy starts going south fast, given the circumstances of your unarmed state.
Still, speed is your ally. And oh, do you wield her.
A feral sound rumbles in your throat as you drop low, bracing on your left hand before torquing your hips to swing your right leg in a low kick. Your instep cracks into the back of his knee, buckling the joint and sending him crashing down hard with a growl.
Still, he manages to drive the tip of his ōdachi into the floor to brace himself upright in a kneel, panting.
You grant him no mercy. Pushing off your back foot, you throw your shoulder forward to tackle him head on, knocking him onto his side as he howls in pain. Tangled in a mess of limbs, with you on top of him, you quickly grip your katana and wrench it from his chest with a wet schluck!
Blood pours down his front, seeping into yours as you roll to your feet, leaving him scrambling onto all fours with one hand clutching his chest, more blood pouring from between his fingers as he gasps between wet, gurgling breaths.
Gritting your teeth, you grip your katana with both hands and raise it over your head before swinging it down just as the samurai lifts his paling face to yours. He blinks once before his head topples from his shoulders to hit the floor, his helmet clattering against the wood until it bumps into the wall.
You watch with utter indifference as the body collapses in a limp heap, blood spurting from the stump while the hands twitch, nerve endings firing the last of their electrical signals.
To strike you down? Perhaps. Do you care? No.
Not when more Zen'in still draw breath.
Glaring down at the corpse, you plant your foot into the back before reaching down, wrenching the second katana from the flank in a spray of blood that coats the tatami and wall.
You glance down at each hand, feeling that ugly drop in your stomach at the sight of the blades satiated with the taste of Zen’in blood.
Your own sense of schadenfreude, I suppose.
Curling your fingers tighter around the hilts, you slowly turn toward the sound of metal clashing against metal, sparks hissing everywhere as your chains strike in a frenzy, surges of cursed energy flaring through the samurai’s ōdachi.
The corner of your mouth turns up in a nasty smirk as your eyes narrow, watching the two men get backed into the corner, forced into defensive parry after defensive parry while your chains turn volatile in their hunger, fed through your emotions.
But then, one opponent steps forward to swing wide. The chains react, recoiling low, and the other samurai spots his chance. Gripping his ōdachi with both hands, he swings low to the ground, cursed energy channelled through the blade, crackling along its edge.
Tchk-clang!
You cry out instantly, doubling over to clutch your side as his blade slashes into the second chain, imbued with enough cursed energy to crack three of the links. Glancing down, you grit your teeth as a dark red stain starts seeping outward beneath your yukata and splayed fingers.
Wincing, you press harder against the gash, the rebound from your cursed technique claiming its pound of flesh just below your ribs.
Fuck it burns.
Panting through your clenched teeth, you mentally curse this damn stone for sealing your positive cursed energy, leaving you without the means to heal. Still, adrenaline is one hell of a drug. Your body flushes hot as it courses through your system, numbing the pain until all that’s left is rage.
My wound is deep, but it's not mortal. I can't stop...
Not now. I won't.
A piercing shriek from your chains draws your eyes up. You glare at the men as they curse both you and your chains to the lowest pits of Jigoku between strikes and blocks.
Mmh. They used cursed energy...
My technique can adapt to it.
With a roar, the second samurai swings wide with everything he has. Growling, your chain snaps taut as they clash with an ear splitting screech!. The man's eyes widen while his arms shake, trying to slash through the spiked links.
But your chain answers tenfold. Hissing, it catches on the end of his ōdachi before coiling up the length of his blade, filling the air with the screech of metal on metal as the tips shear into the steel.
The samurai grits his teeth, thrashing back and forth, trying to withdraw his blade as the chain ensnares it completely to the hilt. Blood starts draining from his face as the chain constricts like a snake, until the faint crack of steel rings out.....
SH-KRACK!
The samurai yelps as his ōdachi explodes into a shower of metal shards, knocking him back a step as his arms fly out to catch himself. His eyes bulge in terror as the chain tosses the hilt across the floor before its hooked end, almost resembling a snake’s head, fixes on his face.
He takes another step back, keeping his eyes trained on the chain as it slowly uncoils itself, the other samurai shouting at him to focus as he tries to hold off the other one.
You waste no time and charge forward. By the time he lifts his head, you’re already driving both your katanas through his chest and gut. He doubles over with a choking gasp, clawing weakly at your wrists as his crazed eyes go wide in panic.
With a grunt, you drive your weight forward to slam his back into the wall before twisting your blades, making him howl in pain.
Then you lean in until your face is inches from his, until his blood fills your senses. Until all he can see is your hate. Your rage. Every drop of contempt in your cold, apathetic stare.
Blood bubbles from his lips, spilling down his chin as his breaths turn raspy, face going white as you tilt your head. Gritting your teeth, you slide a foot back and twist, wrenching both katana's out in a spray of blood, coating your already soaked yukata as he doubles over, clutching his belly.
You take a step back as he tries to straighten, the muscles in your thighs tensing before you channel a surge of cursed energy down your leg. He manages to lift his head just as you drive a front kick right into the centre of his chest.
The impact crunches through the air as his chest caves inward before he’s launched backward right off his feet, smashing through the thin wall in an explosion of splinters and rice paper to vanish into a wall of smoke beyond.
You tilt your head down to peer through the wreckage. It opens up to the outside, revealing the blaze of a massive fire, the flames roaring as they engulf the once beautiful gardens.
Thick, black smoke rises into the night sky, while flurries of embers and ash float on the wind like a winter morning.
You can’t help but laugh at your own twisted creation of Jigoku.
Mhm. Enma-ō shall smile upon me on this day.
"You cursed whore!"
Your head snaps up as you turn your glare onto the samurai. He’s sweating profusely, teeth gritted and face twisted in rage as he’s backed into the corner, frantically deflecting strike after strike from your chain.
Sparks fly with each clashing parry, metal screeching. But you can see he’s tiring, his movements growing increasingly sluggish while your technique’s strikes only grow faster.
His chest heaves as he pants, and you glance down at your second chain eagerly whining, flicking your wrist without a second thought. With a piercing shriek, the second chain launches forward, slithering in low, shredding the tatami beneath its thorned links.
The samurai spits out a curse as he tries to shift his stance to counter, but it’s too late. The second chain joins the first in a pincer strike. He manages to deflect the first chain, but the second one snags his wrist.
He howls in pain as the spikes bite deep into his flesh, coiling up the length of his arm like a snake who caught its prey, shredding through leather, cloth and skin alike, right down to the bone.
The ōdachi clatters to ground as the chain constricts, breaking his arm with a series of cracks!
The other chain targets his leg, surging in to hook around his calf. The thorns shred through his hakama and bite deep into the flesh beneath, ripping another strangled cry of pain from his throat as he stumbles, collapsing back against the wall.
You move in for the kill.
Striding forward, you keep your cold, merciless gaze locked on his as you draw your dominant arm back, torquing your hips to throw your weight behind the strike as you swing the katana around.
The samurai sucks in a hiss, blinking once before his head topples from his shoulders, his helmet clattering across the floor as his body crumples in a heap.
Hot blood spurts from the exposed vessels, pooling on the floor and spreading around your feet, seeping into the gaps between your toes. You tilt your head, clicking your tongue as you take in the full extent of your body.
Not one inch of your skin, not a strand of hair, nor a single thread of your yukata remains untouched by blood.
Still, it doesn't matter.
You turn your head towards the destroyed wall. Towards the distant shouts. Cries of alarm. So much noise.
And to you? That's an insult.
Slowly, you inhale through your nose, the smoke irritating your throat as you pull it deep into your lungs and hold it there. The muscles in your belly tense as the stone pulses, falling into rhythm with your own beating heart, filling your veins with Sukuna's cursed energy.
All to keep you alive long enough to finish your purpose.To fulfill its desires. Where you can feel its intent so clearly now. It's hunger. It's demand for more blood, more chaos, more destruction, urging you onward with a will that is not your own.
And it's growing impatient.
You exhale a slow, shaky breath, tipping your head back to blink up at the ceiling as another head rush hits you hard and fast. Pressure builds in your chest, your body burning hotter with every second that ticks by.
One of your chains whines, nudging your hand as you lower your gaze. Your face goes still as you stare at the gaping hole in the wall, past the torn fusuma and splintered wood, to the burning garden beyond.
There.
That's the path.
The one that will lead me straight to him.
The bottoms of your feet stick to the tatami with each step, leaving behind bloody footprints as you approach the destroyed wall. You reach above your head to grip onto a broken beam, ducking under it as you step through the debris.
Instantly, you're hit with a hot rush of smoky air. Wrinkling your nose, you glance up to see the stars are now hidden behind a thick cloud of black smoke, rising from the eastern side of the estate and the gardens.
"Hmph."
With a grunt, you hop down from the shinden without a second thought, landing with a crunch on the gravel path. You pause, glancing down at your bare feet as you wiggle your toes against the rough stones.
Small pebbles plink onto the ground, slipping from your heel as you lift your foot to take another step.
Your chains slither out from the shinden to follow behind you, hitting the earth with a heavy thud. Arching a brow, you glance over your shoulder and smirk as they twitch like restless little beasts.
They snake along the path, a low shhh-kkk sound filling the air as their thorns scrape against the gravel, eagerly returning to your side.
Motion draws your gaze back around.
Your eyes narrow as they drift across the once carefully manicured gardens. But all you can see are infernos. Bright, burning flames crackle hungrily as they consume the bamboo forest, the wisteria, even that little bench by the koi pond.
All around you, the surrounding pavilion buildings collapse, reducing centuries of Zen'in history to cinders.
The air is so damn hot, and so damn noxious with smoke, that you have to squint against your watering eyes; breathing through your nose, you feel the heat singe your nares with each breath as you wander deeper into the estate, deeper into the blaze
Steam rises from your blood drenched yukata as your body breaks out in a sweat, the cloth sticking uncomfortably to your skin.
Embers catch in your hair.
Ash gets stuck in your lashes.
But you feel no pain. No discomfort. Only that ugly kind of contentment as you watch everything burn down around you.
Another rush of adrenaline flows through your system. Your pupils dilate, your lungs open up, and your heart beats strong and steady. And beneath it all, your senses switch on, honing in on the distant shouts of men and the heavy strides of running footsteps.
You lift your chin, turning your head toward every little sound, every little flicker of motion as you wander deeper and deeper into the estate. Gravel crunches beneath your bare feet, ash sticking to every inch of your skin while the flames cast an eerie glow across your empty gaze.
Your fingers curl tighter around the katanas as a strange feeling stirs deep in your guts. Antsy.That’s the word. Blood drips from the tips of the twin blades onto the ashen ground, their edges slick with it, sizzling as heat licks at the steel.
So much noise....
The crackling of flames. The popping explosions of bamboo stalks. The creaking of wood, followed by loud crashes as structures collapse.
But it’s the distant shouts you focus on as you approach a small, engulfed building. Rounding the corner, you halt mid step, your eyes narrowing into a glare.
A dozen heavily armored samurai stand in formation. Some have bows drawn taut, arrows nocked, their strings quivering with tension as they hold for their captain's order. Others draw their naginata, some falling into defensive stances while others level their long blades at you.
You trail your cold gaze over each and everyone of their faces, searching through the looks of fear, the spiteful hate, the rage and disgust, for the one that mirrors your own.
Your father.
But the cruel sneer you long to witness is absent. Instead, twelve pairs of eyes glare back at you.
"You traitorous demon!" the captain barks, raising his hand. At once, the archers stiffen, narrowing their eyes as they breathe out slowly. "Cast down your weapons, General, and yield to the judgment of the clan! Defy us, and your blood shall answer for your treachery!"
You throw your head back with a low, guttural laugh, the chilling sound devoid of anything human. Lowering your gaze to the captain, you tilt your head, grinning like a madman as your eyes widen.
"Yield?" you hiss. "To you? How pathetic."
You slide one foot back, lowering your centre of gravity as you raise your katanas into a guard, gritting your teeth.
"Know your place."
Cursed energy surges through the stone’s nexus, breaking you out into a cold sweat as the fine hairs along your skin stand on end. Something feral burns in your chest, hungry like a caged beast for carnage.
And yet? Like a spiteful scourge, you only have enough cursed energy to sustain your technique as it is.
Cursing under your breath, you shift your stance as your chains hiss, coiling their ends into an S-shape, compressing their lengths like snakes ready to strike.
You can't help but laugh bitterly as your gaze flicks down to them.
Hah. Two. Two chains are all I can maintain.
But it's enough. It's more than enough.
With the rage burning in your blood, your muscles shake from the adrenaline rush, like you can fight a thousand more battles.
BOOOOOOOM!
A sudden deafening explosion erupts behind you, the shock wave rippling through the ground and up your legs as your widening gaze whips over your shoulder just as a massive fireball lights up the smoky night sky, casting the surroundings in a bright orange glow.
Screams and panicked cries break out from somewhere deep within the estate, followed by a crashing sound as another section of the shinden collapses.
Your throat tightens as you tear your eyes away back to the bastards in front of you. Some are still watching the distant flames with horror, while others exchange uneasy looks.
But the captain? His eyes haven't strayed from yours as you return his stare with a deathly glare. Gritting his teeth, he throws his arm down, hissing out an order.
Two samurai on the outskirts break rank, raising their naginata as they charge forward in a pincer strike. Simultaneously, four archers release their arrows nearly in tandem, the arrows whistling through the smoke and past the two closing in on you.
THWACK!
You manage to deflect one, but the poor visibility throws your timing off.
THUNK.
FWIP.
THUNK.
Three find their mark.
Two arrows pierce your chest, near your shoulders while the third punches through the skin and muscle of your belly, just beneath your ribs.
You’re knocked back a step, gasping once before reaching up and ripping all three out, one after another, as your face twists into something inhuman. Warmth seeps into your yukata, trickling down your front, but you don’t even feel it as you push off your back foot.
Charging forward, you meet the samurai head on with a speed that has them yelping in surprise, throwing up their naginata into a block just as your katana's clash against theirs, the shrill ring of steel on steel cutting through the air.
Back and forth, you exchange strikes, parrying the man on the right before slashing the one on the left, a feral look twisting across your face. Your chains surge past all three of you, going straight for the archers preparing to release another volley.
They fan out across the formation, each targeting an archer so fast they don't even know what hit them. Snagging their wrists before coiling up the length of their bow arms, constricting deep into their flesh.
Howls of pain tear from their lungs as bone crunches then cracks, flesh shredding under their metal thorns.
Letting out a piercing shriek, the chains suddenly pull taut, ripping the archers arms right out of their sockets with a nasty, wet sound.
Skin tears. Muscle rips. Bones snap. Joints pop. The sight and sound sends the other samurai scrambling back a step, some of their faces paling in horror.
Bows clatter to the ground as the archers crumple to their knees, clutching uselessly at the bleeding stumps of torn flesh. Two men throw their arms over their face with a yelp as the chains hurl the severed limbs at them, before lashing out for two more archers.
All the while, you keep your eyes trained on your opponents, testing their guards as you drive them back another step.
BOOOOOM!
Another deafening explosion rocks the entire estate. The blast wave has the earth quaking beneath your feet, leaving all three of you stumbling a step.
But the sound that follows?
Sends chills up your spine.
Laughter.
Crazed, maniacal laughter echoes across the burning sky, rising above the roar of the fires and the screams of the dying.
The kind of laughter that could only belong to one being.
A twisted ball of...something stirs in your chest.
Repulsed.
Excited.
Run. Hide. Fight.
So many whispers. So many feelings that you cannot discern from what belongs to you and which belong to the thing calling out from the flames. And so, you silence those instincts as both your opponent's eyes flick over you, drawn towards the commotion.
A split second. One breath. One inch of a step. That's all it takes.
Their mistake.
You drop low to the left, lip curled up in a snarl, before pushing off your back foot, driving both blades through the samurai's armor. He lets out a choking gasp as you grunt, throwing your weight forward to drive him back a step, sinking the katanas deep into his guts.
He coughs up a torrent of blood all over your chest as you lean in close, your glare bordering on madness as your eyes lock with his widening ones.
"You cursed wretch!"
The other samurai curses just as you shove off your opponent and wrench your blades free with you.
You pivot aside as his naginata cleaves through empty air, while the wounded man doubles over behind you, clutching his belly, gagging and choking as internal bleeding fills up his insides.
Your feet skid across the gravel, leaving you curling your toes in for purchase to launch yourself into a dive just as the samurai swings his naginata wide. You roll through the momentum and spring back to your feet, reaching for the limp body of his clanmate.
With a grunt, you haul the dead weight upright just as the samurai thrusts his sword forward with a roar, burying it into the corpse. Laughing, you throw your meat shield aside and counter with your left katana in a brisk side strike.
The samurai hisses in rage, scrambling to wrench his blade free in time to block.
Too slow.
Your blade slices open his throat.
His naginata drops to the ground in a puff of ash as both hands fly up to his own neck, clutching it to staunch the bleeding. His mouth opens and closes around wet, gurgling breaths as dark blood gushes between his fingers and spills down his front before his knees give out.
You lift your chin and stare down at him with indifference, tilting your head before kicking him hard in the chest. He hits the ground flat on his back, and without another glance, you step over his body, leaving him to struggle while drowning in his own fluids.
Ahead of you, more Zen’in clansmen scramble into position, holding a tight rank as the archers nock their arrows and imbue them with cursed energy.
Your chains hiss viciously before uncoiling from the shredded remains of what's left of two spearmen before lashing out, drawn to the cursed energy signatures.
One by one, the archers are targeted and ripped apart, the chains using their thorns to tear through armor and flesh with terrifying efficiency. They hurl severed limbs and topple heads while shrieking like wild beasts, weaving in and out of the smoke to strike in ambush.
Blood spills across the ground as the bodies begin to pile up. The few who remain try to fend off your cursed technique with the range advantage of their naginata, repositioning back to back to shield the last two archers in the middle as your chains vanish into the smoke.
Slowly, you trail your gaze over their faces, feasting on each flicker of fear, shock, rage, before finding the captain as he draws his katana, teeth gritted.
It's strange. Your heart is pounding. Your chest heaves. Your body is flushed hot as your blood feels like your boiling alive from the inside out.
And yet? You feel calm. Calm amidst the slaughter. The death. The screams and cries.
Like a high.
You inhale deeply, filling your lungs as a dull throb spreads through your abdomen with each breath, the arrow wounds taking their toll. But the pain is a distant thing. A thing drowned out by the intoxicating cocktail of adrenaline and cursed energy pulsing through your body.
Four more men break rank and charge as one unit, fanning out to pressure you into a pinch point. You snarl, baring your teeth as you slide your feet wide and raise your katanas into a guard, dropping your weight low.
"Hah. That’s it," you hiss, adjusting your hips to angle yourself sideways. "Come to me."
They slow in their advance, repositioning to box you in. You take a step back, your eyes flicking over each one, tracking every minuscule shift in their feet and hands.
Heat sears into your back as the fires spread uncontrollably, roaring behind you in a wall of flame, smoke filling your lungs with each steady breath.
"What are you waiting for?" you rasp, grinning wickedly as more screams tear through the smoke behind them, the chains claiming yet another soul. "Come meet your death at the hands of the General and know you will not save the Zen'in from ruin on this day."
Scorn and disgust twists their expressions as they sprint forward, swords raised to strike as one. You grit your teeth and launch forward to meet them, using the poor visibility to your advantage as you dive to the far left past your outermost opponent, slipping behind his vulnerable flank.
He coughs, peering over his shoulder through the smoke, struggling to track the sound of your footsteps. Only to cry out in alarm as you burst forward in a spin kick, launching him off his feet like a projectile and sending him hurtling into the flames.
"She's over there!"
"The accursed wretch has slain Tōichi!"
The closest samurai rounds on you, bringing his naginata down in a powerful overhead slash. You grunt and drop to a knee, throwing your katanas up in a cross block to meet the strike with a resounding claang!
The clash vibrates through your arms, tearing a gasp from your throat before you suck in a breath through your teeth. Your biceps burn as he bears down on you, trying to break through your block as the others rush in.
Cursing under your breath, you push off the gravel hard enough to shred the bottoms of your feet, forcing him back a step before shifting low. You duck beneath a cross slash from your right, then sweep your instep out, knocking the first man off his feet and flat onto his back.
You pivot to parry the third samurai’s strike on your left while countering the second on your right, throwing your weight into the thrust. Your blade pierces deep into the second samurai’s belly as he folds into you with a guttural groan, blood streaming down the hilt to coat your hand.
You grit your teeth and shove off him, twisting away to dodge your left opponent’s cross slash. In the same motion, you wrench your right blade free, spilling his guts onto the ground.
The man crumples to the ground on his knees, his hands scrabbling uselessly to collect and hold his own intestines as he bleeds out, panicking.
The third samurai roars in fury as he charges for you.
Using the doubled over man as a springboard, you rush forward and plant your foot between his shoulder blades, vaulting over your opponent. You land hard and roll through the impact, ash smearing across your body as your blood soaked hair whips across your face.
He slides to a stop, spitting out something foul as he tries to reset into a defensive stance. But you're already on top of him, plunging your left katana through his armor and deep into his back, twisting the blade to sever his spine.
His body goes utterly limp as you wrench your katana free, leaving the corpse to collapse in a heap at your feet. Lifting your head, your chest heaves as you peer into the smoke with a feral look on your face.
Slowly, you round on the first samurai scrambling to his feet.
Two down. One left.
He lifts his head, panting and coughing on the smoke as his watery eyes narrow on his dead clansman.
"You treacherous bitch." He spits, before charging forward in a powerful overhead strike, forcing you to throw up into another cross block. Sparks fly as steel grinds against steel, the samurai’s face inches from your own as he bears down on you with all his weight.
You can see it in his eyes. The hatred. The condemnation. The raw will to take your head.
It's fucking glorious.
You flash him a devilish little smile, teeth stained red and eyes bloodshot while the flames surrounding you cast both your faces in an orange glow. Huffing out a laugh, you press forward a step and thrust your blades upward, knocking him off kilter as he flails his free arm out to steady himself.
Beads of sweat trail down your temples as you slip inside his guard, torquing your hips for momentum before driving a roundhouse kick straight into his chest, launching him off his feet and into the smoke.
BOOOOM!
A distant explosion follows, then the thunderous collapse of another structure. That tells you all you need to know. Throwing your head back in a laugh, you run your bloodied fingers through your hair before letting your arms fall to your side.
You drop your head, blinking at the ground through the sting in your eyes as the hairs along your nape suddenly stand on end. Sucking in a breath, you twist sideways on reflex, barely dodging out of the way of the downward slash of a katana.
Still, the tip manages to nick your flank, slicing through your tattered yukata and tearing it enough that a loose flap folds down, revealing your lower back. A thin, superficial cut opens along your side, leaking dribbles of blood down your skin.
You hiss in irritation as your feet slide over the ashy gravel, pivoting through the motion to round on the new threat.
Ah. The captain.
The last one standing.
Behind him, the final throes of shouting and groans of agony are silenced beneath the wailing of your chains.
You brace low as the captain squares up to you, leveling his katana steady by his ear as he glares into your eyes. You mirror his stance, shaking your head once against the blur in your vision as the blood loss starts to add up.
Doesn't matter. You'll kill him and every last Zen'in before your heart stops beating.
You'll make damn sure of it.
"Come for me then, captain," you rasp, smiling maliciously. "Show me why you're worthy of such a title."
The captain spits out a curse before charging forward. You hold your ground, the muscles in your arms burning as you parry each of his strikes, the heavy clang! of metal on metal ringing out through the chaos.
Showers of sparks spray outward as your blades clash again and again, your footwork mirroring his while the captain grits his teeth through the exertion, furiously swinging harder than the last, trying to knock you off kilter.
Even as your body aches and your muscles and lungs burn, your shrewd mind is already reading his movements, studying his tells.
And then you see it.
His exhaustion is catching up to him, slowing his movements with each strike, with every muscle twitch, every hesitation, telegraphing his intentions as his footwork turns sloppy.
"Hmph." You grunt, deflecting another cross slash before shifting back just out of range. He’s panting now, sweat trailing down his brow as he lunges with a thrust.
Just as you baited.
Fatigue keeps his feet planted, and the thrust overextends him. You arch out of his katana’s path, letting the blade skim past you with a fwip.
Hah.
You throw your left katana aside as you slip under his guard, wrapping both hands around the hilt of the right before dropping to one knee beneath him. The captain’s eyes widen as he realizes his mistake and scrambles to correct it.
As Takeshi always told you...
Hesitation is the bane of a warrior's spirit, it's what determines who lives or dies.
Gritting your teeth, you drive your katana upward to impale through the centre of his chest until the tip bursts out his back, severing the major vessel feeding his heart.
With a grunt, you engage your thighs and push to your feet, hoisting him into the air. He lets out a gurgling, raspy breath, his blade slipping from his grip as his fingers claw weakly at your wrists.
He gasps and sputters, coughing torrents of blood all over your face. You turn your head with a hiss of disgust, spitting it out as you blink the rest from your lashes.
Still snarling, you throw him to the ground with a thud, planting your heel on his belly to withdraw your blade. He howls in pain, clutching the hole in his chest as his eyes begin to dull, his face paling while a pool of dark red spreads beneath him.
You swish the blade through the air, whipping off some of the excess blood before turning away coldly to pick up your other katana.
A shrill shriek cuts through the stillness as your eyes flick down to the flash of motion emerging from the smoke. Both your chains slither through the ash, their thorns soaked with blood and bits of flesh.
You just huff under your breath as they return to your sides once more, already whining.
What insatiable, temperamental beasts.
Lifting your head, you take one step before stumbling forward, just managing to catch your footing with a hiss. You follow it up with a deep breath, only to erupt into a coughing fit as smoke fills your lungs.
Pain throbs through your wounds, blood seeping steadily down your torso and into your already soaked yukata, making it stick to your skin. Burying your face into the crook of your arm, you squeeze your eyes shut as your vision blurs again, trying to quell the coughs long enough to shake your head.
Dammit, I’m losing a lot of blood fast. I can't stay here...
I have to keep moving.
Still hacking, you drop your arm before forcing out a steady exhale, turning your head to glance around the smoke, picking a direction and just going with it.
You wander slowly past the shredded piles of bodies, chin lifted as your chains stick close, covering your flanks.
"The Zen’in... sorcerers..."
A low raspy sound suddenly draws your attention.
You narrow your eyes, following the source to find an archer lying flat on his back atop two other corpses, clutching his own guts in his lap. You pause as the chains hiss, but you wave them off.
The man coughs before sucking in a broken, gurgling breath.
"They’ll find you..." he rasps. "Make you... beg for death."
Disgust flickers across your expression as your jaw ticks.
"Is that so?" you hiss. "And where are these mighty sorcerers now? Cowering within their bedchambers?"
You gesture around at the carnage surrounding you. To the roaring fires. The collapsed pavilion. The dozens of clansmen shredded and torn apart. Before wandering closer to kneel down, tilting your head as your gaze trails over his broken body.
"Look around you," you murmur coldly. "The Zen'in are finished."
Your chains growl, rearing up like cursed vipers over your shoulders as their curved ends fix on the archer.
"Die with this knowledge." You hiss, lifting your chin to stare down at his pale face. "I will shred. I will tear. And I will rip apart and destroy every last one of you for what you've done."
The archer grits his teeth, his body shivering as a tear trails down the corner of his eyes.
All the while, you watch him with indifference as he glares up at you, clinging to the last dregs of his dignity before death claims him.
Remember, General, pride is a double edged sword.
"Hmph."
You huff under your breath as Takeshi's voice floats through your mind once more, your chest tightening. Straightening to your feet, you turn away from the archer as he erupts into a fit of death rattles.
You get about three steps in before silence settles over the space once more, wrinkling your nose as you carry on. The stench of blood, smoke, and death permeates through the air, filling your senses.
And yet? You feel calm.
Almost like you're high as that ugly little knot of pleasure twists in your chest while you peer through the smoke, basking in the sight of the once beautiful gardens now reduced to an ashen wasteland.
By your hand.
Nearly every section of the pavilion off to your side has collapsed into smoldering rubble, your ears picking up on the odd crack and heavy thump of a charred beam breaking off and smashing into whatever is under it.
The carefully tended cherry blossom trees have been reduced to charred snags, no longer breathing out their beauty, instead, exhaling their smoky essence into the night sky.
Before you can stop it, a chilling laugh bubbles up from your throat. Throwing your head back, you break out into a full on cackle, the sound completely devoid of anything human, just madness.
But even as you stand amidst the destruction, there's still a hunger burning deep inside of you.
And it's unsatisfied.
Lowering your gaze ahead, you press on, each step crunching softly beneath you as you finally emerge from the central border of the gardens, narrowing your eyes onto the distant shinden.
Surprisingly, most of this section of the estate remains untouched by the fires.
Hah. Of course they would direct all their efforts on protecting where he is.
Clenching your jaw, the muscle ticks as you wince. Sure, with the adrenaline dump, the wounds are nothing more than a mere inconvenience. Still, you need to staunch the bleeding soon, especially with the way your head is starting to swim.
Your right chain arches up, finding your hand as you squeeze your eyes open and closed, holding onto it for balance until your vision clears. Sucking in a deep breath, you just level your focus onto the shinden.
I can't stop. Not now. Now when I'm this close.
You pat the chain once before threading your fingers through your hair, brushing the wet, crunchy strands from your face as you lift your chin. The stone continues to pulse, feeding your starving body fresh waves of cursed energy, dulling the pain and heightening your senses.
While feeding that hunger.
It isn’t enough. I need more.
Your fingers twitch against the tsuka of your katanas as your breaths quicken, lungs grateful for the reprieve of smoke free air.
You swallow thickly, trailing your gaze over the entrance.
No torches are lit along the engawa. No guards stand watch. It's so eerily quiet, save for the distant shouts drifting across the night sky.
The shinden looks deserted. Your brow furrows as you wander closer. The chains whine at your sides, their links vibrating as they shake chunks of viscera from their thorns, eager to taste flesh once more.
Still, no matter the stillness surrounding you in this moment, you can’t shake this persistent little gut feeling.
He's in there, I know it. My wretched father.
Yet, another strange thought leaves you tightening your grip on the katanas.
Where are the Zen'in sorcerers?
All those samurai you faced were trained guards or cursed tool wielders. Dangerous, yes, but not true Jujutsu sorcerers.
So where the hell are they...?
You swallow thickly as that laugh from earlier echoes through your memory, leaving your stomach fluttering.
Was it him? Is he here...?
Could he...
No.
You silence that last thought to keep your cold gaze fixed on the shitomi. Watching for the barest flicker of movement. Searching for even the faintest trace of a cursed energy signatures.
You don't even blink. Not even as embers drift past your face on the wind. Not as ash falls around you like snow, catching in your lashes and coating your skin.
The chains suddenly hiss, just as the fine hairs along your skin stand on end as you break out into a cold sweat. You halt at the base of the steps, the corners of your eyes twitching once.
Both panels slide wide open, revealing the dark interior. Your eyes narrow into a glare as three figures step out of the shadows, fanning out to stand side by side along the edge of the engawa.
You grit your teeth as you trail your gaze over their apathetic expressions, over the way they regard you with that same air of superiority every Zen'in seems to have like it's a damn birthright.
Hah. You almost laugh bitterly at the irony of their timing.
They’re sorcerers. Elites of the Zen'in, the ones revered as the blessed few.
Well, that explains their confidence.
"Tch."
So be it. Let them believe their own delusions.
The sorcerer in the centre steps forward, his dark hair pulled back and secured in a topknot, revealing a gaunt face scarred down one cheek by some long forgotten injury.
His gaze holds no warmth, no acceptance of the fact that you share the same blood, just an edge of contempt.
"So," he sneers, surveying over your torn and stained yukata."The traitorous little harlot managed to crawl out of the disciplinary pit."
You grip your katanas tighter, more to hide the tremble in your fingers as your heart starts to pound.
"And now you cut down your own kin and dare call it justice?" he spits in disgust. "Your mere existence is a blight upon the Zen'in name."
He gestures toward you with two fingers, the motion making your chains rear up, hissing. The warning earns nothing more than an amused chuckle from him.
The second sorcerer crosses her arms against her lithe form, lifting her chin. Her piercing green eyes bore into yours, scorn hardening her pale features.
"Your crimes against the Zen'in," she says coldly, "are beyond penance, only death remains."
You shift back a step, your body tensing as you raise your katanas, gritting your teeth.
The third sorcerer stands to the left, a hulking man with a shaved head and arms covered in dark bands of tattoos. Normally, such markings would be something to look upon with shame. But like Sukuna, he bears no such disgrace as he grins, cracking his knuckles while cursed energy gathers around his fists.
You can tell right away, he is a man built for close combat. A brute who favors getting in nice and close to break bones with his bare hands.
"Know this General, I shall take great pleasure in enacting the clans judgement," he growls, his face twisting into a scowl. "By tearing you apart piece by bloody piece."
You flash him a feral grin as you meet his gaze, your chains rearing up at your sides, hissing.
"Then come," you rasp, succumbing to the madness inside you. "Let us speak no more of judgment and see which one of us death deems worthy."
The scarred sorcerer throws an arm across the big guy's chest as he steps forward, glaring down at you with a nasty grin. You brace low the instant his cursed energy signature spikes, your eyes flicking to his hands as he hops down from the engawa and lands in a kneel.
Your chains circle around to your front into a guard just as the sorcerer plants his hand flat to the ground, unleashing a surge of cursed energy down his arm, muttering low.
"Earth manipulation, swallow her whole."
Your eyes widen as the ground begins to quake beneath your feet, sending you stumbling back and forth. You grip onto your left chain for balance, ignoring the sting as it's thorns sink deep.
But just as fast, the ground suddenly explodes in a geyser of dirt, sending you and your chains hurtling back.
The world blurs by, wind whipping against your face.
You throw your arms up to protect your head before you crash land hard onto your shoulders, crying out as the inertia carries you across the ground, shredding your yukata and skin alike as you squeeze your eyes shut.
Until at last, you skid to a stop flat on your back in a cloud of dust and ash. For a moment, all you can do is blink up at the smoky sky, coughing as your back stings something fierce.
Groaning, you clutch your side through the painful ordeal of forcing yourself to sit up. You reach about halfway before one of your chains slithers behind you, curling its end against your spine to help you the rest of the way.
Panting, you shake your head once, blood trickling down your temple from a cut along your scalp as you lift your gaze.
It doesn't take long before the cloud of ash begins to settle, revealing the scarred faced sorcerer slowly rising to his feet, chuckling, while the other two smirk in your direction, crossing their arms.
You spit out a mouthful of dirt as you narrow your eyes on him, your mind already working while your second chain coils in front of you, its hooked end aimed toward the sorcerers.
His technique...
Earth manipulation...?
Groaning once more, you manage to bend your knees, planting your feet as you drop a hand behind you to push yourself upright. Somehow, between your reflexes and a little dumb luck, you still have hold of your katanas as you straighten, lifting your chin.
His technique must be channeling cursed energy into the ground, pressurizing it enough to create underground explosions.
But can he choose where they detonate? Can he time the blasts?
You grit your teeth.
Damn him. If that's the nature of his art, then every step I take puts me in the bounds of his technique.
As if answering your thought, the sorcerer’s grin widens before he slams his palm to the ground once more.
You spit out a curse, diving aside just as the ground explodes again. The blast wave throws you forward, sending you crashing forward face first. Tucking your head in, you manage to roll through it, albeit clumsily, before twisting your hips to skid around, leaving a furrow behind in the ashy gravel as you land in a kneel.
You whip your head in their direction as the woman suddenly shifts, uncrossing her arms to bring her hands in front of her chest, splaying her fingers out wide.
I have to make a move, but that bastards earth manipulation is anti mobility. If I charge in blindly, I’ll be buried before I reach them.
You shift your feet apart, resetting your stance as cursed energy channels into her palm. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, you watch as the first walls of fiame begin spreading toward you from the gardens, pouring heat against your back.
Alright, think. I'm running out of time.
As you bring your gaze back around, you notice a flicker of something in the space separating you, along with the faintest trace of cursed energy.
The shadows....
The way they shift and warp, almost unnaturally, broken up beneath the incoming glow of the fires.
Wait a minute. Is that her technique...?!
You glance over at your chains as they rear up, sweat dripping down your brow to sting your eyes just as the shadows start to...seep out of the ground. Solidifying into black, blade like forms, rising like weapons being unsheathed from the earth’s own umbra.
She starts to cackle, slashing her hand through the air, hurtling them towards you. But your technique reacts faster, the chains screeching as they whip through the air to intercept the first volley of shadow blades.
You watch the chains slam into them, cursed energies collide with boom! that kicks up a swirling dust cloud around them.
Instantly, you double over, clutching your side as searing pain tears through your body.
Grunting through a wince, you glance down to see fresh cuts spreading across your skin, blood seeping through your yukata. Courtesy of the backlash transferring back to you through the symbiotic link of your technique.
A wonderful little price you must pay for their ability to adapt to subsequent attacks.
Still.
That means they're adapted.
You grit your teeth, sucking in a hiss.
I get it now. The first sorcerer cuts off movement so she can strike with a ranged technique.
Panting, you glance to the big guy as the dust begins to settle, narrowing your gaze.
Which leaves that big bastard as the one to finish things up close.
So be it.
I'll bring him to me.
You manage to straighten, lifting your chin as you flash them a wicked little smile, your chains already crushing the last of the blades to slither back to your side, carving a trail through the blanket of ash.
You tilt your head, trailing your hooded gaze over their faces, your pupils blown so wide they nearly look black.
"That's disappointing," you call out, pointing your left katana at the trio. "And here I had thought the Zen'in elites would be something of worth."
The woman's face twists with contempt, lip curling up while her glare turns murderous.
"You lowborn cur," she hisses, opening her palms as cursed energy gathers around her. "I’ll use every last shadow to cut that insolent tongue from your mouth and leave the rest of you for the crows."
Your chains rear up as the shadows surrounding you start to flicker.
I see now, her cursed technique uses the shadows themselves to create the blades.
You hiss out in frustration as the fires creep closer, but not close enough to rob her of her source.
She thrusts her hands forward, and the shadows surrounding you start to seep out of the ground once more, hardening into blades before she slices her hand through the air and launches another barrage, the blades carving through everything in their path.
But your own beautiful technique launches, very fast, adapted perfectly. The chains shift and redirect midair, their movements and speed unmatched as they deflect the blades one after another before crushing them outright.
You laugh as the woman curses in rage, watching as her technique is essentially rendered useless. Although, your little reverie is cut short as you shake your head, inhaling brusquely.
Sure, the pain from all your injuries is nothing you can't handle. But that doesn't stem the fact your body is tiring from the toll, leaving you blinking through double vision.
I have to finish this fight before my body gives out.
Just these three.
Then my father.
...That’s all...
And then I can finally be free of all of this madness.
A sudden roar shatters those thoughts as you lift your head to find the brawler barreling toward you, his long strides devouring the ground like a giant’s.
Just as you planned.
Pride really is a double edged sword.
The scarred sorcerer clenches his jaw as he drops to a knee once more. The female sorcerer's icy stare burns holes into you as she activates her technique, her cursed energy growing more volatile with each passing second.
Dammit, I can't release the chains to target the other two. Otherwise, those blades will slice me to shreds.
But with the brawler so close, that should stay the other bastard’s hand from calling upon the earth. I mean surely, he won't risk injuring his own kinsman?
As the brawler closes in with his massive arm cocked back, you throw up your katanas in a cross block, bracing your weight forward.
"Rotten filth," he growls, swinging his fist. "I shall see to it that you no longer tarnish our bloodline."
He channels a surge of cursed energy into his knuckles as they smash into your guard, sending you skidding back. The impact is staggering, nearly knocking you flat onto your ass as it vibrates through your entire body.
Your katanas ring out as hairline fractures spread along their edges. Your eyes widen, breath hitching as the blades suddenly explode into a shower of sharp steel shards, slicing your forearms.
Blood wells up from the fresh cuts as you duck under one of the brawlers follow up haymakers, pivoting behind him before tossing the broken katanas aside to clatter to the ground.
You raise your fists, ready to step up toe to toe when the ground suddenly shakes as the first sorcerer unleashes earth manipulation. You have no time to evade before an explosion of dirt and rock blasts upward under your feet, launching you backwards.
You cry out, throwing your arms up and tucking your chin to protect your head. Hurtling through the air yet again, before crashing down hard, skidding across the ash to roll to a stop near the edge of one of the growing fires.
Heat sears into your back as you curl into the fetal position, groaning as your body is left aching, bleeding, and feeling so goddamn heavy beneath the exhaustion. Now you probably have a broken rib or two, given every breath leaves you pursing your lips through the shaky exhale.
Slowly, you lift your head, blinking through the blurry vision as the world spins like you're drunk. Gritting your teeth, you spit out a curse, narrowing your eyes. The double image of the brawler slowly merges into one as he closes the distance, forcing you to scramble to your feet.
For his hulking frame? His speed is impressive. You barely manage to throw up your forearm in time to block his right hook from cracking you in the side of the face. The impact shocks your system as you grunt through the pain shooting down your arm, leaving your fingers tingling.
"Tch!"
You hiss through your clenched jaw, forced entirely onto the defensive.
Backpedaling. Blocking. Ducking. Pivoting.
Trying your damnedest to keep your feet under you, lest you have one misstep. Gods, every time one of his punches connects, it feels like your bones are about to break, your limbs shaking as they go numb.
His strikes...
They feel like they're getting stronger.
The brawler grins, his eyes wide like a madman high on battle lust as he presses his physical advantage. Throwing hooks, jabs, uppercuts, combination after combination, each one forcing you back, leaving you sweating and panting as you fight to keep up.
"I'm going to break you General!" he growls, sweat trickling down his shaved head. "Blood and pain is the only fitting recompense for your betrayal."
You bare your teeth, eyes darting between his hands, his feet, the shifts in his weight. Even while being driven back, your tactical mind races, analyzing his technique.
After blocking another jab, you have no doubt now. His strikes ARE getting stronger, his speed too.
It’s like he’s chaining his attacks together in one endless sequence, linking cursed energy through each blow, using the momentum and power of one hit to carry into the next.
Gods above, it has to be that....
Fury Chain.
You remember Takeshi mentioning it when he spoke of the Zen'in techniques in passing.
His cursed energy is not being released in single bursts, it's being carried over from strike to strike. The moment one blow makes contact, the remaining force is transferred into the next attack.
A consecutive hit technique.
Gritting your teeth, you manage to duck under another haymaker, feeling the whoosh of air as it passes overhead in a hit that would have killed you if it connected with your skull.
I'm sure of it, that's his technique. And that means I'm at a severe disadvantage here.
You're unarmed and the multitude of injuries has your body fatiguing faster than you'd like to admit. The blood loss alone is pushing you to the brink of collapse. You know you can’t keep up with him much longer, not when the brawler’s technique is only moments away from overwhelming you completely.
Gritting your teeth, you dig deep, drawing on every last bit of adrenaline still burning beneath the pain and exhaustion. Your eyes dart around the area, searching for anything you can use to change the tides, anything to give you a chance to break his stance.
Then, just over his shoulder, you see it. Off to the side, one of the fallen guard’s katanas lies half buried in the ash, its steel edge reflecting the glow of the flames.
There. If I can just reach it...
Take out the weakest of the trio, then I can free up my technique.
Growling, the brawler rams into your guard, leaving your forearms bruised and bleeding. Blood trails from your nostrils and the corners of your mouth where the bastard got in a couple of lucky swipes with his knuckles, as you gasp between ragged breaths.
C'mon time this right. I only have one chance.
Your thighs tense as you curl your toes into the ground, narrowing your eyes to search for the tiniest gap in the brawler's barrage.
And then, as he cocks his arm back for a haymaker, you launch off your back foot. Dropping low, you lunge to the side, every muscle in your body burning as you dive beneath his fist.
Your fingers fumble through the ashy gravel, before reaching out to find the katana. Carried by your own momentum, you roll back to your feet, twisting your body as you cock your arm back.
A stunned look flashes across the brawler’s face as he slides to a stop, throwing his arms up in front of him just as you hurl the sword with everything you have.
You collapse to your knees, panting as your leg muscles start shaking. The blade cuts through the air towards him, only to brush past his cheek, nicking it open to leave a bead of blood trickling as it soars past.
His eyes widen at first, then narrow, a sneer twisting his features.
"Foolish woman!" He growls, voice rough with contempt. "Your blade found nothing."
But you lift your head, flashing him a bloodied grin as wet, choking gurgles suddenly fills the smoky air.
The brawler’s head whips around to find the female sorcerer collapsing to her knees, her hands clutching at her throat, where your katana pierced right through front and centre.
Dark blood pours down her front, draining the color from her face. Her green eyes stretch wide, turning dull with each heartbeat. She sucks in useless, choking rasps, her severed windpipe failing to draw breath.
The hulking man lets out a roar of fury, his flushed face twisting into something bestial with rage.
"You filthy traitorous whore!" he bellows, spittle flying from his lips as he rounds on you once more, pointing at you. "I'll crush your skull in my hand."
You just huff out a bitter laugh, narrowing your eyes over his shoulder as the first sorcerer slams his palm to the earth.
You hiss through your gritted teeth as you scramble to your feet, every hair along your nape standing on end as you sense it, the vast surge of cursed energy he drives deep into the earth.
Your heart starts racing as the ground begins rumbling. Then the earth splits open with a thunderous crack!, spitting forth massive, jagged spires of stone that tear toward you like a collapsing mountainside.
"Die, General!" the sorcerer roars. "I'll bury your body beneath our feet, where filthy mongrels belong!"
You suck in a breath as your chains break away to return to you, wailing as the first spire reaches you.
"Fuck...!"
The curse barely leaves your lips before the tip pierces through your shoulder, lifting you right off your feet.
"Arrrghh!"
You cry out, wrapping both your hands around the rock as your weight dangles, pulling on the wound. Pain tears through your chest as you gasp, tears trailing from the corner of your eyes.
Blood spills down your front and along the slanted edge of the spire as you try to wedge yourself off. Gasping between winces, you make another attempt to wriggle off, kicking your feet, only to scream as your muscles give out and your weight drops, jerking against the wound with a squelch.
Your chains whine as they reach you, rearing up beneath your feet to give you something to stand on. Gritting your teeth, you slowly pull yourself upward along the length of the spire, panting shaky breaths.
Then, with one final pull, you rip your shoulder free from the jagged tip, only to fall to the ground on your back in a heap.
Your entire body is shivering as you press your palm hard against the gaping hole, trying to staunch the bleeding.
It doesn’t take long before the metallic stench of iron fills your nose as your own blood pools beneath you, a chill running through your body while you fight to stay conscious through the sharp, burning pain rippling from the wound.
Through the dull roar in your ears, you can make out the distant laughter of the sorcerers, followed by the slow crunch of steps.
You can barely manage to turn your head. Blinking does nothing to clear the blur from your vision, but you can still make out the faint outline of the first sorcerer crossing the courtyard toward you.
Your chains hiss, but they’ve grown sluggish, curling weakly beside you. You barely have the strength left to channel cursed energy from the stone’s conduit.
Hell, you’re probably minutes and counting down from fainting.
"What a pathetic sight," he hisses. "The famed General, brought low at last. Now you may carry your humiliation into the lowest pit of Jigoku."
You squeeze your eyes shut, rolling onto your uninjured shoulder with a groan, gritting your teeth as you sit up. Instantly, the world starts spinning as your head lolls forward between your bent knees.
The scarred sorcerer laughs once more as he passes by the brawler, who just watches you with a smirk, tattooed biceps bulging as he crosses his arms.
"Look at you now, General," he sneers. "Where is that vaunted strength? That promise to slaughter us all, hm? Because all I see before me is a weak, broken woman."
You suck in a shaky breath as you scramble to your feet, swaying in place while your injured right arm dangles at your side.
And yet.
You narrow your weary eyes into a glare, gritting your teeth as you lift your head, chest heaving. Blood oozes between your fingers, heart palpitating as your mind feels fuzzy.
The first sorcerer carries on towards you, taking his sweet time.
"Pathetic," he spits, making a show of taking in your broken body. "How the hell did you ever earn a title like the divine General?"
You reach for the conduit’s cursed energy, trying to channel it into your chains. But they only respond sluggishly, barely able to lift their ends.
The sorcerer clicks his tongue in disgust, stopping only a few feet away as you struggle to focus through your double vision.
"Your mother was weak too, you know," he murmurs, crossing his arms. "A snivelling traitor who begged for her life. And now here you are, following in her footsteps."
He flashes you a cruel smile, flicking his hand in an idle gesture.
"Like mother, like daughter."
Rage surges through you, enough to awaken you from mire of pain and exhaustion. Lifting your chin, you bare your teeth in a snarl, your fingers twitching at your sides, aching to close around the bastard’s throat; to squeeze until his eyes bulge out of his skull.
But he just snorts in amusement, tilting his head.
"Know this General," he hisses, lowering his hand to his side as a surge of cursed energy gathers in his palm. "I shall take great pleasure in sending you to Jigoku, to join that treacherous bitch you dared call a moth..."
He trails off to take a half step back, eyes widening as his gaze lifts over your head.
The air around you suddenly shifts.
A chill shoots up your spine, raising goosebumps across your skin. Even so, you manage one last, unsteady step before your legs finally give out, squeezing your eyes shut as you fall forward.
"Ngngh!"
You groan as you're caught by two, thick muscular forearms snaking around your waist, pulling you back flush against a solid wall of heat.
"My, my, what have we here?" a deep voice drawls. "The mighty Zen'in clan, brought low by a single woman. How embarrassing."
MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: Malevolent Mercy on Ao3
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💥 Trigger Warning: Mentions of domestic abuse and period typical sexism. Gore and violence. This chapter is meant to leave you ANGRY, all in preparation for the one after😈
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That night, when you lay your head down, it feels as if your mind is no longer your own.
Like the heavens themselves have conspired against you, gifting everyone around you with the knowledge to access your thoughts, your emotions, your very heart.
Everyone but you.
Blinking up at the ceiling, you feel at the mercy of your spiralling thoughts. Caught in a frenzy of faces, memories, and your own choices. All the ones taken and the ones ignored.
Call it the who, what, where, why, and how of it all. How you’re now lying beneath the roof of the single greatest threat to your homeland.
And yet? That isn't even whats plaguing you right now.
Oh no.
Because at this moment? All you can think about are three little things.
Your past. Your future. And your life.
I mean, since childhood, since the day you met Takeshi, you knew you're life was no longer your own.
It belonged to the realm.
And you accept it. Accept the destiny that has been decided for you as a path of great honor.
The Divine Guardian.
You have always known this fate, trained for it with blood, sweat and tears, sacrificing every waking moment for it.
Sacrificing your entire life to fulfill this destiny.
That's your current life.
But your future? That's what your mind grapples with. Not your conscience mind, but something deeper, like an intuition.
It leaves you ansty with this lingering feeling that you're approaching a crossroads. One where you will have to make a decision.
Decide between the first path. The familiar one. The one you've walked all your life.
The path of the General.
A path forged by duty, righteousness and selflessness. The easy path, the one you're trained for, the one that simply demands you to put your head down and let those values guide you.
But now?
It feels as if you're nothing more than a bystander, watching those values crumble for...something.
To want something more.
And that something calls for you, coaxing you towards this other path. This dark and winding one that offers something forbidden, something unknown.
Desire.
Strength.
Freedom.
A new identity that will shred apart and devour the old one.
So now, lying in bed and being stuck all alone with your mind, your body is restless. Constantly tossing and turning. Pulling the sheets up to your chin, only to then kick them off again with a huff.
Gods above, it's stifling here.
Your lungs feel too tight no matter how deep of a breath you take. The air just feels too damn dense to fill them.
Sighing, you glance over at the shōji, hoping the sight of the moon might make you feel better. But even that familiar solace feels too bright as your heart starts racing.
You close your eyes, steadying your mind by focusing on the simple task of breathing.
In.
One...two...three.
Out.
One...two...three.
In.
One...two...three.
Out.
Cursing under your breath, you open your eyes, kicking the sheet off with a hiss.
Since your confrontation with Yorozu, you've felt off.
Off in the sense there's no other way to describe it other than feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. It just FEELS like something is lurking inside you.
Bloodlust.
That insatiable hunger.
You can feel it still clawing at your insides. Feel it in the way your blood pounds against your veins. Feel it in the way the stone sits heavy over your heart.
Suddenly, you freeze.
The room goes deathly still, save for your shallow breaths and the rustling of the sheets as you cross your ankles.
And then it comes.
The whisper.
That hauntingly sweet, yet malevolent voice. The voice of the General.
Recognizable, and yet? Not really. It's distorted somehow, skewed into someone else.
"Find the truth."
"Find it"
"Go back to where it all started."
You press the heels of your palms hard against your eyelids, trying to drown it out, trying to stop that voice from taking root.
But the more you fight it, the louder it becomes. Pushing and pulling at your mind, guiding you toward something unknown but no less inevitable to have peace.
"You know what you have to do"
"Do it…"
Takeshi.
The Zen'in Clan.
Kenjaku’s cryptic warnings.
All of it winds around you like a noose.
A sudden pulsation in your chest follows, as the treacherous little stone begins to stir. For once, it's not pain, but wheedling. Stoking the flames of the burning questions in your mind.
How much more can I ignore?
How much longer can I pretend this isn't driving me mad...?
Sucking in a deep breath, you fill your lungs full, holding it until it throbs behind your eyes before blowing it out.
Fuck it.
You shoot up, uncrossing your legs as you push to your feet. Quietly, you cross the room to the shōji and slide the panel open, just enough to poke your head out and peek into the blackened hallway beyond.
Besides the occasional flicker of shadows, the hall is empty. No movement. No sounds of talking or footsteps, just the moonlight.
Good. No signs of Uraume.
Playing it safe, you wait a few more minutes, training your eyes and ears on the silence.
Nothing.
Satisfied, you step out onto the cold wooden floor, your blood roaring in your ears as you creep forward. Adopting caution in your steps, you keep to the shadows as much as possible, avoiding the rooms lit up by oil lamps.
Thanks to your days of boredom, you've a decent grasp on the layout of this place. Navigating confidently through the shinden’s winding halls, knowing which left over right, slipping around corners until you reach the main entrance.
Hopping down off the engawa, you move quickly through your next order of business, the inner gardens.
Your waraji crunch softly over the gravel as you approach a small stone bridge. Your heart skips with excitement as you cross it, knowing it marks the boundary to the outermost gardens.
I'm almost there.
The night air is cool against your overheated skin, compliments of the adrenaline dump. Sucking in a breath through your nose, your senses are suddenly hit with a sweet, floral scent.
Glancing up, your eyes are met with large white flowers blooming along the bottle gourd vines, swaying on either side of you.
A sight you enjoyed but three nights prior. Funny how different it feels now, in the midst of your grand escape. You huff out a bitter laugh, perking up as you spot the front gate in the distance.
Your eyes dart back and forth, drawn to every rustle of the gourds. Jumping at every gust of wind. Your eyes wide like a spooked rabbit as you scan every inch of the path ahead, waiting for someone...
Sukuna.
Or even Uraume to leap out of the bushes and drag you back.
Stupid really.
You mind your pace, embodying the teachings of slow is steady and steady is fast as you sneak past a group of servant women, their baskets full of gourds as they tend to the vines.
The torii gate...
It’s right there.
One more step.
Now two.
Three, then four, then five.
You hold your breath as you pass under the large beam overhead, only releasing it with a whoosh once you're nice and clear of it.
"Hah."
You can’t help but laugh as a giddy sense of joy fills you, glancing over your shoulder to the sight of Sukuna’s estate shrinking further with each step.
The air feels different now, freer. Honestly, you almost start to cry from the sheer overwhelming feel of it as you turn back ahead.
Still, that doesn't stop that niggling little ball of tension in your guts.
That was way too easy.
You swallow thickly between pants, wiping your sleeve across your sweaty brow as more lingering thoughts gnaw at you.
Did they purposefully let me leave? Or perhaps Uraume was asleep?
I suppose, I never even thought about it...
Does Uraume sleep? What about Sukuna?
"Arrgh!"
You shake those stupid thoughts off, given you have bigger priorities right now.
You need answers. And you're getting them today.
Your thighs start burning as you lengthen your stride, slipping away into the forest from the last of Sukuna's clutches, like a thief into the night.
Squinting, you have to keep your focus down on the uneven ground. Leaping over downed trees and avoiding tripping over roots as the thick canopy of needles above blots out what little light you have.
Squish. Crunch. Squash.
The forest floor is damp beneath your feet, the scent of wet earth filling the air as you pick your way through a cluster of trees.
You risk a glance up, straining your eyes to pick a point in the distance and follow it, all with the aim of maintaining as straight a trajectory as you can.
Because the honest truth?
You have no fucking idea where you are or where to go.
But theoretically, if you keep moving in one direction, surely you will stumble upon something right?
Slowing down to catch your breath, you keep that thought brewing in the back of your mind as you press on.
You walk.
And walk.
Then walk some more with nothing but the songs of night critters to keep you company.
Until, lo and behold, after what feels like hours, you finally stumble upon a small village nestled in the heart of the forest. Reaching the edge of it, you kneel behind the closest hut, peering around the area.
Everything is so quiet and still.
Thankfully, it seems almost all the villagers are asleep, blissfully unaware of your presence.
Pushing off the ground, you slink between the huts, moving through the village. Distant whinnies guide your direction until you locate a stable on the far side, spotting a few horses tied up for the night.
The mixed scent of hay and animal sweat fills your nostrils as you cautiously approach a mare. She snorts softly when you offer the back of your hand, sniffing twice before sighing.
Smiling, you stroke the chestnut coat along her muscular neck, whispering soothing noises under your breath. You then reach over with your other hand and untie her rope, leading her away toward the edge of the village.
Resting your hands on your hips, you walk a short distance from the horse, lining yourself up with her side as you hold your breath.
With a bit of a running start, you launch yourself up, throwing a leg over her bareback in a not so graceful manner. Grunting with the effort, you scoot forward until you’re both comfortable before gathering up the rope.
"Alright girl, let's go." You whisper, turning her head toward a road through the trees. Clicking your tongue and squeezing your thighs, the mare responds tenfold, taking off into a full gallop as you nearly slip off with a yelp.
Leaning low into her mane, you ride hard as the night air whips against your face, the world blurring by.
For the first time in months, you feel alive.
Nothing compares to losing yourself in the thrill of riding. To the feel of the mare's muscles shifting beneath you. To the sounds of her heavy breaths and the pounding of hooves against the earth.
And so? You just let go.
Let go of your mind.
Of your doubts.
Of all the thoughts plaguing your existence.
It’s just you and this powerful animal, moving as one, carrying you somewhere you never thought you would ever return to.
The Zen’in clan.
Hah.
You never once thought of those bastards once after you escaped them.
And yet, once or twice in passing, when you found yourself thinking of your mother, Takeshi’s words would remind you.
"Make no mistake, my dear General, the Zen’ins are as ruthless as they are powerful. Your mother knew that when she arranged for your sanctum."
You grit your teeth, squinting against the rush of wind as your eyes water.
The thought of Takeshi leaves your heart aching. His eccentricities. His impossible to read nature.
Could it be true?
Could he have aligned himself with such monsters?
The questions circle around your mind as a knot twists in the pit of your guts.
You have no plan. No idea what you're walking into. You just know you have to.
After hours of riding, you reach the outskirts of the Zen’in estate, and the moment your eyes land on the familiar outer wall, your heart skips a beat.
Gods, the last time you saw it was nearly twenty two years ago.
Gritting your teeth, you suck in a hiss.
It was twenty two years ago when you watched the light of your mothers technique go out.
When your life with Takeshi began.
The perimeter is massive. The estate has expanded far beyond what you remember as a little girl. Torches line the outside of the wall, each one spaced evenly, leaving patches of darkness in between.
You slow the mare to a walk, her chest heaving and coat soaked in sweat as you glare at the sealed gate.
Finally, you're going to get answers. Answers to the questions that have driven you mad since Kenjaku’s fateful revelation. Answers that will change everything.
But most importantly?
The final answer. The one that will be the very thing to decide which path you take.
The path of the General. Safe, familiar, forged by duty and righteousness.
Or the other path.
The dark and winding one. The one that whispers promises of freedom.
As you dismount in front of the gate, two guards emerge from the shadows, heavily armed and wearing sneers that tell you they are more accustomed to intimidation than civility.
They size you up immediately, their eyes lingering on your curves longer than necessary, their expressions twisting with something foul.
"State your business," one of them barks, crossing his arms over his chest while his companion continues leering at you with open disdain.
You take a deep breath, lifting your chin.
"I am the General from the Divine Gilded Monastery. I’ve come to speak with the head of the Zen'in."
For a moment, they only stare at you, their brows furrowing as they exchange a look. Then, as if they've rehearsed the reaction, both guards toss their head back in a burst of laughter.
"The General?" One of them scoffs, spitting on the ground at your feet.
"You?" He sneers, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your filthy, horse scented yukata. "A mad whore turning up in the middle of the night, claiming to be the Divine General?"
He spits once more, flashing you a glare.
"Ridiculous."
The other guard snorts.
"Besides," he adds, "the General fell in battle months ago. Lost to the King of Curses, or so they say."
He steps toward you slowly, his gaze wandering over your curves once more, lingering in places where it has no right to be.
"Unless, of course, you’re here for other reasons," he chuckles, pulling a knife from his sleeve and twirling it idly between his fingers.
"Then you’re in luck."
The other guard just grunts low, tilting his head.
"You sure you’re not just some whore trying to play dress up?" The first guard takes another step closer. "Cause we’re happy to indulge, if that’s what you’re here for."
Your fingers twitch at your side as your chest tightens, leaving your heart pounding against your ribs.
Rage.
It's an emotion that's started to feel a little too natural lately.
You curl your hands into fists at your sides, exhaling long and steadily.
I have to remain calm, keep my head clear.
"Now move along you crazy bitch," the second guard growls. "We will waste no more time listening to whatever game you think you’re playing."
The first guard reaches out to grip your arm, digging his fingers into the crook of your elbow.
Instantly, your eyes fly open as all your inhibitions snap.
The guard doesn’t even realize what's happening until his grip is ripped from your arm and his back hits the wood of the wall with a thud.
Snarling, you wrap your hand around his throat and lift him into the air, curling your fingers in deep. His eyes bulge as he gasps and chokes, spittle flying from his lips as his face reddens, legs flailing uselessly.
The other guard hisses low, reaching for the hilt of his katana, but freezes the moment your glare snaps to him.
He sees it. The shift. Something very dark burning in your golden depths.
Madness.
"I would think very carefully about your next move," you growl.
The color drains from his face as he curls his fingers around the leather grip to hide the tremble, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple.
Yet, he yields back a step.
You return your cold gaze to the choking creature in your hand. Tilting your head as you observe his face turn a sickly shade of purple, clawing weakly at your wrist.
"Now, I’m only going to say this once," you murmur, lifting your chin.
"I am the General of the Divine Gilded Monastery and daughter of the clan head. I suggest you get out of my way and let me in before you regret every word that just came out of your pitiful mouth."
Indifference settles in your features as you patiently wait. Watching his gaze darting around wildly before finally finding yours, nodding his head weakly.
You only grunt, letting go just to watch him hit the ground in a heap, gasping for breath between hacks as he rubs at his throat. You step back, wiping your hand against your side as they exchange a reluctant look.
There it is. The closely guarded secret no one outside the clan knows and your card to play.
That the Zen’in head even has a daughter.
The second guard glances between you and the other before finally swallowing thickly, fixing his features into a blank slate as he inclines his head.
"W-wait here," he stammers, turning on his heel to disappear through the smaller side gate.
The moment it slams shut behind him, you're left standing there, fighting an internal battle against the urge to rip his throat out.
And beneath it all, you can feel the heaviness of the stone. Lying in wait, like a hungry beast waiting to be fed.
Gritting your teeth, you inhale deeply just as the first guard manages to scramble to his feet. Doubling over, he braces a hand on the wall while he catches his breath, keeping his distance while his eyes dart nervously between you and the door.
You can't help but smirk, opening yourself up to this ugly indulgence.
Because that's what it is, an indulgence to instill fear in another.
A feeling you know, deep down in your heart, can become an insatiable addiction if left unchecked.
Not that you'd understand such cravings, of course. Your mentor would slap you silly over the head if he witnessed such arrogance.
You snort a laugh under your breath, staring deadpan at the guard as he shifts restlessly, avoiding your gaze.
The sudden creak of the gate draws your attention as the other guard emerges, nodding once to the first.
He rushes over, oh so eagerly to slip through the side gate and leave his partner glancing between you. A moment later, a heavy thud reverberates as he removes the beam, the heavy wooden doors swinging open with a groan.
"Follow us," the second guard mutters, averting his gaze as he keeps his head down.
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you fall into step behind them, a knot forming in your gut the moment you pass under the gate and into the Zen’in estate.
But the moment you turn to follow them down the gravel path of the gardens, they position themselves on either side of you, still out of arm’s reach, of course.
It's strange really.
A sense of what you can only allude to as nostalgia stirs deep in your chest as you glance around. So much of the garden is exactly the same as you remember.
The sprawling bamboo where you once ran, weaving through the stalks as you chased fireflies. Only to catch them in your hands, staring wide eyed at their flickering bums as you giggled, pretending it was your own magic.
Your gaze then drifts over to a small wooden bench, a small smile pulling at your lips. You remember those days, lying there with your head on your mother's lap. She'd be combing her fingers through your hair while you stared up at her, mesmerized by her stories.
Slowly, your eyes wander to the koi pond, catching the faint motion of bodies swimming beneath the calm surface.
Hah. Even that rock looks exactly the same.
The one where you would crouch at the edge, poking at the fat fish with your fingers as they swam in leisurely circles. Their bright orange and white scales catching on the sunlight while your mother laughed and shook her head at your ridiculous antics.
Yeah. The garden used to be your safe place. Your fun little hideaway to escape the stifling air of the shinden and the equally repugnant people inside.
But now?
Everything feels hollow.
The bamboo garden, once your secret place of magic and adventure, now looks desolate and still.
The wooden bench where you once escaped into your mother’s stories, basking in the warmth of her love, now sits cold and empty.
And the koi pond? Once a source of simple joy, is just that. Another pond, smelling of damp earth and fishy scales.
Sighing, you drop your gaze back to the path.
Following along easily, guided by the torches lining either side, their flames crackling and spitting as you pass. Still, your attention drifts as you cast a sidelong glance to your right. Into the thickest part of the bamboo forest where the light doesn't quite reach.
The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand on end as you lift your head, peering into the darkness between the stalks.
It's a feeling you're very familiar with...
Being watched.
Your instincts switch your adrenaline on, flooding your system as you scan the area. The muscles in your body tense, every nerve wired hot as your heart rate picks up.
You can't let your guard down.
Not here.
Not for a second.
Even as the sweet scent of wisteria suddenly envelops you. Peeling your gaze away, you glance up, greeted with the sight of hundreds of purple flowers draping over an archway.
As you pass beneath, their soft petals brush against your shoulders, flooding you with the memories of a simpler time. A precious one, when your mother braided them into your hair, declaring you princess of the fuji.
A bitter smile pulls at your lips as you fix your gaze ahead. But as you round a bend in the path, your features suddenly tighten as the shinden comes into view.
An imposing thing. Even larger than you remember, grander too.
Constructed from the finest cypress, it truly is an impressive sight. Its aesthetics embody the perfect balance of refinement and authority, reflecting every bit of what you know to be the very core of how the Zen’in view themselves.
Approaching the base of the steps, the corners of your eyes twitch once, narrowing on each guard as you pick up on the subtle tension in their stances. Your gaze then drops to their hands, noticing the way their fingers rest around the hilts of their katanas.
You hum low, keeping your head up, ignoring the many stares keeping track of your every move.
These men differ from the two guards escorting you, in the sense that they are no mere sentries, but seasoned warriors who have likely seen their fair share of battles and bloodshed.
Seasoned warriors who wouldn’t hesitate to remove your head, should they feel inclined to do so.
Slowly, you ascend the steps one by one, tilting your head back to actually take in the sheer size of this place.
Oh, yes, it’s big.
Hah.
Another Zen’in family trait of making you feel small and insignificant.
Your escorts brush past you to open the main doors, stepping aside with their eyes glued to the ground as they offer a curt nod. Once you enter, they slam the panels shut behind you, making you jump as a smoky scent fills your nostrils.
Turning back to the room, your breath hitches as you glance around the moya.
The words luxury or grand really don't do it justice.
High ceilings coupled with the wide space create an open, airy concept. The only thing breaking it up is a small table in the centre of the room, where a copper bowl of incense burns.
"Mhm."
It's so different from what I remember.
I suppose the years of climbing the social hierarchy in the Jujutsu world, means the clan really has grown powerful enough to afford such affluence.
Happily stepping over anyone and anything to achieve that.
You think bitterly, trailing your eyes over the artwork painted on the fusuma.
Some are colourful renditions of the changing seasons, dogwood trees in full bloom with their white and pink blossoms of summer. While others capture the raw beauty of nature in the form of vibrant landscapes, roaring rivers with fish leaping from the water.
But one panel in particular really captures your attention, a great sakura tree. Weaving through its flowering branches are dragons, each one unique, their long, scaled bodies rich in shades of emerald, sapphire, and amethyst.
Slowly, you approach it, trailing your finger over the gold and silver paint of their eyes. They're so detailed that it almost feels as though they follow you around as you move, watching your every step.
Letting your arm fall to your side, you press on, wandering over to the other side. Here you find images of great battles. Scenes of warriors charging on horseback with others clashing on foot via swords and spears.
Funny how you notice every winning side flies the Zen’in family crest high.
You snort under your breath, wondering how much of the lore is actually true. As you continue to peruse around, your thoughts start to drift, and you can't help but think of the paintings in Sukuna’s temple.
Those you know are accurate.
You're so lost in thought that when a panel suddenly crashes against its frame, you nearly jump out of your waraji, your eyes darting across the room.
Instantly, your breath hitches.
Your father.
He sits cross legged on his shitone, and although his body language is relaxed, it doesn't diminish the fact he remains an imposing figure. Hell, his very innate nature just commands full attention.
You find yourself instinctively straightening, shoulders squaring as he raises his head to meet your gaze.
Well, he hasn't changed.
Referencing back to the rare occasions he actually chose to interact with you as a child. His eyes are so much like yours, yet so different. Pragmatic yes, but he also possesses a wisdom only earned from years on this earth, along with a cold edge of calculation.
He wears his black hair slicked back, streaks of silver threaded through the strands, more concentrated at his temples. You can't help but think of the saying beware the old man in a position where the young man dies.
The edges of his face seem sharper now, his strong jawline more pronounced with the loss of youth’s softness, further accentuated by the faintest hint of stubble.
His broad shoulders and barrel chest give him the appearance of a bear, his forearm thick where the sleeve of his kimono hikes up as he lifts his sake cup to his lips.
He watches you intently over the rim, those dark brown depths appearing almost black. A trait that only contributes to the coldness in his stare, an attribute that leaves no room for warmth.
It is the look of a man who measures worth in strength and obedience.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Setting his cup back down, his lips settle into a thin line as his thick brows furrow, resting his features in a permanent scowl. Even from here, you can see the deep, faded scar running from his left temple down to the corner of his mouth.
Everything about him just exudes disdain.
Why your mother married such a cruel man continues to evade you.
He wears a plain black kimono and hakama with a royal blue haori draped over his shoulders, the black silk reflecting off the flames of the oil lamps.
Your body goes rigid as time seems to freeze you in place. The two of you regarding one another with such animosity, that an outsider looking in would draw the conclusion you're mortal enemies rather than actual father and daughter.
He doesn’t rise to greet you. Doesn’t offer even the barest flicker of acknowledgement at seeing his flesh and blood for the first time in years.
Instead, he tilts his head, openly appraising you with those cold eyes from your head to your toes, before grunting once.
"So," he growls. "The prodigal daughter returns."
You square your shoulders, holding his glare despite the knots in your gut.
Gods you despise that fucking stare.
"Father," you acknowledge, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.
"It's been a long time."
The corner of his lip curls up into smirk, as he chuckles low.
"Indeed it has. And yet, here you stand." He murmurs, gesturing to you. "The great General of the Divine Gilded Monastery, gracing us with her presence after all these years."
He leans back casually, stretching his back before resting his elbow on his knee.
"I must admit, I’m surprised," he continues, reaching for his sake. "I had heard rumors of your death. That you were slain by the King of Curses himself."
He pauses with a hum, lifting his sake cup to his lips and tossing it back in one swallow.
"And yet? Here you are." He adds. "Alive and relatively unscathed, it seems."
He narrows his eyes.
"Which begs the question, daughter. Why are you here?"
You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry as you drop your gaze to the floor.
That's right...
Why AM I here...?
To confront him about your past? Perhaps demand answers about his alleged alliance with the Sugawara clan? Or is it to unravel the tangled web of deceit that seems to surround your very existence?
Hah.
You're here for all of it.
"I'm here for the truth," you finally say, lifting your eyes back up. "About my past. About the Sugawara clan. About everything."
Your father's expression remains guarded, but you catch the faintest flicker of something in his eyes.
Surprise, perhaps? Or is it anger?
Either way, he continues to stare in silence, brows furrowed as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
Gods, you could hear a pin drop in this stillness.
Finally the faint rustling of silk breaks the quiet as he lifts a hand, gesturing you closer.
"Come, sit," he growls, snapping his fingers before pointing to the shitone opposite him.
"It seems we have much to discuss."
Inhaling deeply, you try to steady your nerves as you cross the space, lowering yourself slowly with your legs crossed, the stuffed cushion cool against your skin.
Meeting his gaze this close, your father's presence feels even more imposing as you sit up tall, resting your hands on your knees.
He sighs long and hard, the corners of his eyes twitching once as he studies you. And all throughout, his hard features remain unreadable as the tension in the air shifts, turning uncomfortable, although really, what did you expect?
I mean, this man is the one who shunned you since the day you first drew breath.
There is no love here. No respect. And certainly no trust between you.
Your jaw starts to tick as he finally leans forwards, resting his temple on his fist
"You know," he mentions idly, "you look so much like your mother."
Your breath hitches as your stomach drops, your chest tightening despite yourself. Of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.
He tilts his head, glancing over your features with a look that makes your skin crawl.
"It’s your eyes," he murmurs, almost to himself.
"That same color. That same damn look that set her apart from so many others. And those high cheekbones and that stubborn set to your jaw."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"Yes. You're very much her daughter."
Your father sits up, crossing his arms as he smiles without an ounce of warmth.
"I remember the day she was brought here," he hums, chuckling under his breath. "Your grandfather had arranged the match. A strategic alliance he called it, meant to strengthen the Zen’in clan’s connections and influence."
You swallow thickly, settling into your shitone as you listen intently.
This piece of her, you never got to learn because your mother rarely spoke of her life before the Zen’in. Any question you asked, even just innocently in passing, she either evaded or answered by changing the subject.
"I remember when I first saw her," your father continues gruffly. "She was brought before me, this slip of a girl with eyes so fierce. Like she wanted to rip the throats out of everyone in that room."
He huffs out another dry laugh, gesturing to you.
"Yes, indeed. That look. That same damn look of a rabid animal that I see in you now."
He reclines back once more, his gaze still fixed on some unseen point in the distance.
"She was from some small, nameless clan, barely worth mentioning in the grand scheme of things. But she had a reputation, even then. A decent sorcerer who became something of a prodigy through her skill with cursed energy and technique."
He clicks his tongue, returning his gaze to you with a tilt of his head.
"So my father determined she would make a good addition to the family by producing strong heirs."
He chuckles dryly, scratching at the stubble along his jaw.
"I remember her standing before me all proud and rebellious to the core. Even with the indignity of being presented like prized cattle, she still stood with her chin raised and eyes defiant."
He waves his hand idly through the air.
"And in bearing witness to such spirit, I thought to myself, this one will make a strong wife and mother worthy of me and the Zen’in name."
You curl your hands in your lap, digging your nails into the meat of your palms as something ugly burns deep in your chest.
How dare he speak so callously of her like that!? As if she was nothing more than a tool and her life a means to an end.
"The wedding was a grand affair," your father carries on, paying cordiality no heed.
"No expense was spared given my father believed the Zen'in had to demonstrate its strength and prosperity to the other sorcerer families."
He reaches for his cup and sake bottle, pouring it full.
"I'll admit, your mother was a vision that day. Beautiful. But that fire never left her eyes, even as she spoke her vows, I could see it just beneath the surface."
He chuckles, setting the bottle down before his gaze finally meets yours.
"When she fell pregnant, I was certain we would have a son. A strong heir to carry on the Zen’in name and legacy. A sorcerer who would be the one to set our clan apart from all the others."
His eyes suddenly darken as his tone takes on a bitter edge.
"I can still hear it you know, the day your mother went into labor. Her screams filled the halls of the entire estate while those damn useless midwives scurried in and out with sheets soaked in blood."
He scoffs, shaking his head before fixing you with a glare.
"Do you want to know what was going through my head at that moment?"
He holds your stare as his lips curl into a cruel smile.
"I thought, this must be a strong boy coming into the world. With all the fuss, the screaming, the blood, surely only a son could cause such upheaval."
Your father’s face suddenly hardens, a scowl twisting his features as he waggles his finger at you.
"And then you were born," he spits. "A daughter. A whimpering, pathetic little thing, squalling in your mother’s arms. You can only imagine my disappointment when I was met with your weak cries instead of the strong wail of a boy."
You scoff, crossing your arms. More so to trap your hands before they give in to the intrusive thought of cracking him across the face.
"Oh, I am very aware of your disappointment," you hiss past your teeth. "You made sure to remind me of it every single day of my life."
He leans forward, the hardness in his expression eased just a touch by dry amusement.
"That damn feisty woman was furious. She insisted you were just as worthy, just as strong as any son could be. She defied me at every turn, refusing to bend to the traditions and expectations of the clan."
Your chest constricts as the stone starts to grow heavier, feeding off the bitterness. The resentment. The hatred you feel for this fucking place and everyone in it.
"Tch. She filled your head with such nonsense," your father growls, waving his hand.
"Notions of equality and worth that had no place in our world. She wanted to raise you as a sorcerer, to train you in the ways of Jujutsu and have you take your place among the clan’s ranks."
He scoffs, shaking his head.
"As if a woman could ever be equal to a man in battle or lead the Zen’in clan to glory."
Your breaths quicken despite your efforts, ears ringing as your blood pressure spikes to stroke levels. All the while, the stone starts shifting, feeding the rush of fire in your veins, trying to coax you toward the edge of no return.
No.
Not yet.
You need answers, and you’ll bite your tongue off to hold it if that's what it takes to get them. To keep him talking, no matter the shit you have to listen to right now.
"But still, she persisted," your father continues. "She coddled you, filled your head with nonsense, and forced me to watch you stumble around believing yourself to be anything but weak."
Your father shifts, bending his knee up to drape an arm over it, leaning back on his other hand.
"Truly, I showed restraint for months while she poisoned your mind with such nonsense. But it reached a point where I could no longer tolerate her insubordination."
He tilts his head, offering you another one of those cruel smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing.
"So I did what was necessary, I put her in her place. Reminded her of the vows she took and the duty she owed to me, and to the Zen’in name."
He shrugs casually as you grit your teeth until your jaw aches.
So that’s the way of it, then.
All those bruises. The way she always flinched with sudden movements. The way she'd cry herself to sleep next to you when she didn't know you were awake.
You stand abruptly, glowering over him as you fight tooth and nail to keep the bitter tears from welling up.
Guilt. Helplessness. Ignorance.
All of it excuses for not understanding what she went through to protect you.
But beneath it all?
Rage.
"I should rip your fucking throat out for what you put her through," you hiss.
Your father tosses his head back and laughs, the deep sound only serving to piss you off further as those intrusive thoughts from earlier start screaming to hell with answers.
"Like I said," he growls between laughs. "A rabid fucking animal, just like your mother."
He recovers his breath, running a hand through his hair before fixing you with a cold stare.
"She deserved everything for even thinking a sickly pathetic rat with weak cursed energy could be a Zen'in sorcerer."
You huff out a dry laugh, narrowing your eyes into a glare.
"You’re lying," you snap. "All of this, everything you’ve said, is a lie because you couldn’t stand to accept the truth."
"Oh?" your father breathes, raising an eyebrow, his tone riddled with a patronizing edge. "And what truth of the matter would that be, daughter?"
"The truth that you knew," you hiss, jabbing your finger at him. "You knew from the moment I was born that I was special. That my body was different because I channel positive cursed energy!"
You fling your arm in a gesture as your voice deepens in spite.
"You couldn’t stand the thought that I had a strength you could never hope to possess unless you enslaved me through that despicable shikigami ritual."
Your father goes deadpan as he reaches for his cup, lifting it to his lips as he tosses it back, immediately hissing as he sucks in a breath through his teeth from the afterburn."
Slamming the cup down with a thwack, he lifts his blank stare to yours, his face giving nothing away.
"And who," he murmurs flatly, "revealed this supposed truth to you?"
He scratches at his scar, narrowing his eyes.
"Was it Michizane?" He growls, shaking his head. "That pretentious fool always did have a soft spot for you."
Your stomach drops, but despite that you keep your features neutral.
"It doesn’t matter where the information came from," you retort. "The point is, I know."
Your father doesn't react, he simply reclines back on his elbow, stretching his legs as he crosses them at the ankles.
"I do not know what outlandish stories Michizane has been filling your head with," he murmurs idly. "But I can assure you daughter, they are just that. Stories. Fiction spun to cloud your judgment and keep you obedient."
He shakes his head, chuckling low.
"Positive cursed energy? A strength I could never control? Tch." He spits keenly. "Shameful you let yourself be persuaded by such impudent beliefs."
The moment your father finishes spewing his vitriol you just freeze.
Glancing off to the side, you suddenly feel too hot. Your yukata too tight. Like you're not yourself right now, but hovering above as this shell of a person slowly succumbs to one singular, ugly need.
Hurt him. Kill him.
Your fingers twitch, your blood boiling as the stone feeds you its gift, demanding its blood price.
You take a step closer, hands balled into fists at your sides.
Then another.
Your father straightens, pushing to his feet as his eyes narrow.
Another step.
You can feel it now, the cursed energy flowing through your core, flooding your limbs before crackling at your fingertips.
Your shoulder tenses, arm cocking back...
"Father!"
The voice snaps both your attention to the east wing. Instantly, you release the cursed energy with gasp, body shaking as you take a step back.
A boy, no older than eight years old, comes running out of nowhere, his little steps pattering along the polished wood.
"You’re back!" he squeals, his face beaming while his mop of black hair bounces with his stride.
Like a switch being flipped, your father’s entire demeanor shifts, transforming right before your very eyes into something unrecognizable.
Gone is the cold, hard man full of scorn.
In his place is a father, his features softening, eyes full of warmth as he moves to meet the boy halfway.
You’re left standing there in utter shock, mouth slightly agape and brow furrowed as you bear witness to the entire exchange.
"Genji, my son," he greets, kneeling down as the boy throws himself into his arms with a high pitched giggle.
You press your lips into a thin line, your guts twisting into a knot as he releases the boy to stand, ruffling his hair affectionately.
"Did you bring me anything from the capital, Father?" Genji asks eagerly, practically bouncing on his toes. "Did you see the Emperor? What was he like? Was his palace as grand as our house?"
Your father hums as his hand finds Genji’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.
"So many questions, my boy," he chuckles, putting an arm around him to pull him against his side.
"Well, to answer one of them," he continues, "I did indeed have an audience with the Emperor himself."
Genji gasps as his little mouth falls open, eyes wide.
"Really? You met the Emperor? What was he like, father? Was he wearing his fancy robes? Did you get to see the royal guards?"
Your father's eyes crease at the corners, a genuine smile tugging at his lips.
You're still speechless at the sight of this entirely new person before you. It's like glimpsing through a looking glass, only to see the image of a man you never even knew existed.
"He was indeed dressed in his finest attire," your father replies, nodding his head slowly. "And the sorcerers that make up his royal guard are every bit as fierce as the stories say."
Genji’s eyes stay wide as saucers, hanging on your father’s every word.
"Wow," he breathes in pure, childish awe. "That sounds so exciting, I wonder what their cursed techniques are?"
His eyes light up even brighter as he bounces on his toes once more.
"Please, father! Take me with you next time, I want to see it too!"
He only laughs low, ruffling Genji's head playfully again as the boy giggles.
"Patience, my son. One day, when you are older, I will take you with me to the capital."
He tilts his head, smiling warmly as the boy glances up at him.
"As the future head of the Zen’in clan, it will be your duty and honour to represent our family before the imperial court."
Genji’s little face scrunches up in determination at that as he presses his fist to his sternum.
"I’ll do my best, Father. I’ll make you and the clan proud, I promise!"
"I have no doubt you will, Genji," your father boasts. "You are a true Zen’in. Strong, and destined for greatness."
You feel physically sick at the way your father wields his cruelty. Listening between the words spoken to Genji, you understand loud and clear what he's saying to you.
Strong.
You're a disappointment.
Destined for greatness.
You're a failure.
You are a true Zen’in
You're unworthy of the Zen'in name.
Gritting your teeth, you rip your eyes away in disgust, already turning to leave.
But Genji, absorbed in his happy little world and completely oblivious to the heavy tension in the room, turns his head and spots you. His bright golden eyes widen as he tilts his head, staring at you with that blunt curiosity only children seem to have.
You can see the way his little mind works to process every detail, from your dusty, travel worn yukata to the faint scars marking your skin.
His eyes are particularly drawn to the most recent addition above your eye, courtesy of your altercation with Yorozu.
"Father," he asks, pointing at you, "who is this woman? Is she a guest?"
Your father lifts his eyes to yours, his gaze heavy with that indifference you know oh so well.
"This," he growls, gesturing to you, "is the General of the Divine Gilded Monastery."
Genji’s brow furrows momentarily, his eyes narrowing as he processes the words before his expression brightens into one of pure, unadulterated excitement.
He's practically vibrating as he tears himself from your father's arms, rushing over to you. He has to tilt his head back in order to meet your gaze, beaming as he grins.
"You’re the General?" he asks breathlessly. "The divine sorcerer who exorcises cursed spirits and curse users?"
You find yourself opening and closing your mouth, truthfully lost for words as you stare into this child's eyes.
His eyes. Like yours, gold but still so full of wonder and innocence.
Gods, I hope they stay like that for a long time to come.
You offer him a small smile, unable to help yourself as you take in the look on his face. A look you have seen countless times before, reflected in the faces of children from every corner of the empire.
It never mattered whether they came from the poorest village or the richest estate. They all wore that same awe in their eyes when they saw you for the first time.
"I...well, yes," you manage, your voice strangely hoarse. "That’s me."
Genji's hands find his sides, fisting a handful of his kimono until his little knuckles turn white, trying to contain himself.
"I can’t believe the real Divine General is here under our roof," he breathes. "My tutors tell me stories about you, about your prowess in battle against cursed spirits. They say your strength and technique are unmatched!"
He goes up on his tippy toes, trying to get a closer look at you. His stare is particularly fond of lingering on the scabbed cut above your brow.
"What's the biggest cursed spirit you ever fought? I remember reading about the smallpox deity you defeated all those years ago in the village of Ritorunōsurokku."
He pauses, beaming up at you.
"Did you use your technique to beat it, or your katana?"
Honestly? Genji’s adorable grin is so bloody contagious that you can’t help but return his smile, despite being bombarded like you’re in an interrogation.
Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, still trying to shake off the stone’s effects from just minutes earlier.
That bitterness. All that hate and resentment toward your father.
And yet, as you tilt your head and smile down at this sweet boy, you can feel the tension in your shoulders begin to lift.
How can you blame this innocent child for the cruelties of the Zen’in ideals, when he's still so clearly untainted by them?
Lifting your gaze over Genji to your father, you meet his eyes and notice the way they track your movements like a hawk. The subtlest twitch in his fingers. The tension between his brows. The way the muscles of his body are taut.
It's a reflex you've seen thousands of times.
The instinct of someone conditioned to violence. Surrounded by it. Enforcing it.
A man who expects you to snap the boy’s neck here and now in retaliation, because that is the sad reality of the world your father has built.
A world of ruthless convictions.
But the thing your father doesn’t realize, or refuses to acknowledge, is that you’re not him.
You don't think like him. Act like him. Are not ruthless like him.
Dropping your gaze back to the eager boy, you take a knee before him, softening your features as you offer him a small smile.
"I was no more than a few years older than you, and about this tall when I first encountered the smallpox deity," you murmur, holding your hand out a few inches above his head.
Genji's eyes widen as he looks at your hand, putting two and two together.
"It towered over me," you continue, letting your arm fall back to your side. "With rotting skin, many twisted arms and legs and a body covered in eyes."
You tap under your own before shooting him a wink as he stares in fascination.
"Oh yes, hundreds of them, all staring at me."
He audibly swallows, glancing over his shoulder toward his father, who remains staring at you.
"And no," you add, lowering your voice, "I didn’t use my katana, it was too close and too fast. I had to fight with my kunai, aiming for the soft, squishy spots between its eyes. One wrong move, and I wouldn’t be standing here."
"That’s so terrifying," he breathes, dropping his eyes to his feet.
"I-I don’t..." He stutters, glancing shyly at you. "I mean, I don’t think I can ever be brave like that."
You sigh, leaning in close.
"Want to know a secret? But you have to promise not to tell anyone," you whisper, cocking a brow as he nods eagerly. "I nearly wet myself, I was so scared."
Genji snorts, covering his mouth with his sleeve to hide his laugh as you grin.
"It's true. I was so young, and facing something so terrifying, I didn’t think I could do it."
Genji's brow furrows, the entire concept of you, the Divine General being afraid, baffles him.
"But you still won!" he exclaims.
"You’re right, I did," you murmur, tilting your head as your eyes take in his. "But that's the point, Genji. It's not about being fearless, it's about moving forward in spite of that fear. That's what makes the difference."
"Oh." He breathes, as you reach out and give his shoulder a squeeze.
It is kind of funny, really. How it takes nothing more than a silly little story to see the truth, as you and Genji hold each other’s gaze.
Two pairs of golden depths. Two hearts beating the same blood. Two lives born under the same roof.
And yet? You couldn't be anymore different.
"Genji," your father suddenly calls out firmly. "It’s time for you to return to your studies."
Genji's face falls flat as he turns to your father, masking his disappointment with a dutiful nod.
"Yes, father," he mumbles, before glancing back at you, his eyes lighting up once more.
"It was an honor to meet you, General," he announces formally, bowing his head. "Thank you for sharing your story with me."
You return the gesture with an incline of your own, a genuine smile softening your features.
"The honor was mine, Genji," you smile warmly. "Keep that curiosity and eagerness to learn, it will serve you well in life."
Hah. Now I sound like Takeshi...
Genji beams at your words, his little chest puffing out with pride. With a final wave, he turns and scampers off, disappearing back into the annex of the eastern wing.
You watch him go, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest.
Gods. It’s hard to accept that such a sweet boy is of the flesh and blood as your father.
It doesn't take long before the sound of his pattering footsteps grows distant, fading entirely until it leaves only you. And him. And that damn repressive stillness he just so effortlessly exudes.
You straighten, your features tightening as you lift your chin, meeting your father's cold, hard gaze. He crosses his arms, then gestures with a nod in the direction Genji just disappeared.
"As you have no doubt surmised by now," he growls, "Genji is your half brother."
You inhale deeply through your nose, indifference tempering your features.
"You remarried," you state flatly.
The corner of his lips curls into a lopsided smirk.
"Indeed," he growls. "After your mother’s...departure, it was necessary to secure the clan’s future. My new wife has proven to be a much more suitable match, providing me with the heir I always desired."
He glances once more in the direction of the boy before fixing you with a glare.
"And Genji is no ordinary heir," he asserts pridefully. "He has inherited the Zen'in clan’s most prized and powerful technique. The Ten Shadows."
Your breath hitches before gritting your teeth as you narrow your eyes, interpreting that statement for exactly what it is.
A threat.
The Ten Shadows Technique.
The rarest and most coveted innate cursed technique of the Zen’in. A technique that allows its sorcerer to summon and command shikigami from shadow. A technique that can subjugate even the strongest of sorcerers when paired with the Shikigami Rebirth Ritual...
Like me.
Kenjaku's words suddenly float around in the back of your mind. Standing here now, listening to the way your father speaks of it, your stomach knots you sick.
Genji...
With his innocent face, and those sweet, curious eyes. Is destined to be the one to bind you. To force you into submission as his shikigami. Your own brother, groomed from birth to be your master.
Bile rises at the back of your throat, filling your mouth with its bitter taste before you swallow it down.
"I’ve heard the stories, you know," he mentions casually, tilting his head. "Of the great General, the pride and heart of the Divine Gilded Monastery."
He pauses then, drifting his gaze over your frame with that appraising kind of scrutiny that sets your teeth on edge.
"Tales of your prowess, your skills with cursed tools and cursed energy. They say no other could stand your equal."
He snorts, returning those dark eyes to yours.
"But imagine my surprise when I heard the most recent tale. The great General, leading a team of four skilled sorcerers hailing from the Fujiwara, slaughtered by one single curse user."
He gruffs out a bitter laugh.
"I can only presume how this looks to the higher ups at the monastery," he muses. "Five grand sorcerers, humiliated by one curse user? I’m surprised they didn't strip you of your title on the spot."
You inhale deeply, trying to calm your racing heart as you drop your gaze to the floor between you.
Your father clicks his tongue, lifting his chin to stare you down.
"I heard this curse user is strong," he muses.
"But you are supposed to be the General. This divine being. And yet..." He pauses, flashing you a cruel smile. "You were defeated so easily."
Your breaths start to quicken as your nostrils flare, that fire returning to flood your veins as the stone begins to pulse.
"It’s pathetic, really," your father continues. "And yet, I can’t help but wonder, why are you even still alive? Surely, this curse user would have cut down your miserable existence right then and there. Unless..."
His eyes narrow as his lip curls up in disgust.
"Unless they found you so lacking and pathetic they couldn't even be bothered to kill you."
He snorts, his features smug as he regards you with overt contempt.
"Just like your mother I reckon. Useless and weak."
You tip your head back with a bitter laugh, blinking up at the ceiling beams. You can feel it, that restlessness taking hold of you as the stone starts to stir. Your fingers twitch at your side as you grab a handful of your yukata, squeezing tight.
"Hmph." Your father snorts, tilting his head. "Even now, you say nothing. Is it fear? Or impudence?"
"It’s whatever the hell you want it to be," you snap. "But I’ve heard enough. Speak ill of my mother again..."
Gritting your teeth, your eyes narrow into a glare as you take a step forward.
"And I’ll kill you."
The corners of your father’s eyes crease as he smirks, tilting his head.
"More empty threats, dear daughter." He laughs, lifting his chin. "An even greater confirmation that you are no Zen’in."
You exhale a cynical sound and take another step forward as your father watches you with amusement.
Something in the room shifts then.
Your chest feels lighter. The tension in your muscles eases, followed by a warm sensation spreading through your limbs.
Hah.
You finally faced it. That ugly, raw need deep down inside you. The need of a little Zen'in girl just begging to be accepted. To be loved.
And standing here now, in a place you once called home, staring into his eyes, you finally find the answer you had been searching for.
Fuck him.
Fuck this place.
And fuck the Zen'in.
Your features harden as your eyes shift, taking on that thousand yard stare as your father visibly stiffens, his own narrowing as he uncrosses his arms.
Slowly you take a step.
Then another.
But the moment you reach the middle of the room, his gaze suddenly darts over your shoulder.
"Mmph!"
Your shout is muffled as a thick, coarse rope is yanked around your mouth, the corners stinging. Your eyes fly wide as you instinctively flinch, your hands only getting halfway up before your arms are seized.
You thrash wildly, furious cries stifled as saliva trails down your chin. But two pairs of hands dig their fingers deeper into your arms, their grunts filling the air as you twist against them.
You aim to whip your head around, but are met with a sharp pain exploding through the back of your skull. Groaning, you collapse to a knee as the room spins.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head, just as a warm sensation trickles down the back of your neck.
Blinking through your blurry vision, you lift your head, seeing double as your ears ring. Your father looms over you, staring down his nose with contempt.
"You choose malcontent, just like your mother did." He growls, waving a hand. "So be it, I'll reunite you."
The guards haul you to your feet, your head slumping forward from the rough treatment. You're too disoriented to make sense of his words as a black hood is slipped over, plunging you into darkness.
Suddenly you feel the rough fibres of more rope scraping against your skin as three loops secure your wrists behind your back. You give another jerk against their hold, only to earn an uppercut into your diaphragm.
"Ghmph!"
You double over, gagging as the air is forced from your lungs. Your heart races wildly and temples throb as you struggle for breath. Your underarms ache as your captors drag you forward by them, your feet kicking uselessly against the floor.
You try to focus on their footsteps. On your breathing. On anything, really, to stay awake through the lefts and rights of wherever the hell they’re taking you.
A panel suddenly slams open ahead, and it doesn’t take long before gravel scrapes against the tops of your feet, shredding the skin raw. The rough friction is followed by the collective crunch beneath their steps as they continue dragging you along the path.
This must be...
I must be in the inner garden somewhere...?
You lift your head weakly, trying to peer through the thin cloth. But all you can make out is the faint glow of torches and the broad silhouette of a man you assume is your father ahead.
Where is he taking me?
The guards suddenly halt in their advance, holding you up as you tilt your head, trying to catch sight of your father. A distant creak rings out, followed by a heavy slam that has you jolting.
"Mmm-mmm!"
Your muffled groans fill the night air as you fight against their grip, twisting back and forth, only to earn another slug to your flank.
"Nnngh!"
Your torso bends into the pain on reflex, as one of the guards curses under his breath before yanking you forward roughly. The slap of steps on stone stairs, along with the scrape on your shins, has you lifting your head once more.
The air shifts, growing cooler and damper. A knot forms in your gut as you realize they’re taking you underground.
I don't remember such a place...
You try to search for something, anything, straining to see through the hood. But it's so dark, so dank, the only thing your senses can pick up on is the stale musty scent of earth.
Your head lolls forward as a rush of dizziness hits you hard and fast. You squeeze your eyes shut just as another shrill creak rings out, followed by the heavy slam of another door.
The guards drag you onwards, deeper and deeper, into what feels like the very bowels of the earth.
Goosebumps erupt across your skin as the air changes yet again. Colder. Denser. Pressing in on you from all sides, leaving your heart racing and your breaths quickening.
Another door opens suddenly, drawing your attention. You lift your head, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
This one sounds different, heavy and sturdy. The metallic screech of its hinges pierces through the stillness, rumbling through your toes as it swings open.
That door is meant for one purpose, and one purpose only.
To keep you in.
You’re dragged a few more feet before you’re thrown down onto your knees. Slowly, you lift your head just as the hood is ripped away. You groan, squinting against the torchlight, sucking in air through your nose.
Through the weak glow of a single torch on the wall, you peer around into the pitch black, trying to make sense of what looks like a great stone pit. Swallowing thickly, your stomach turns as you wrinkle your nose.
Something foul clings to this place. Something evil. Filling the stale air with the stench of rotten eggs.
You know the Zen’in name, their reputation, their ruthlessness. But not this. Not the rot beneath it.
By the Gods, what have they done down here?
You grind your teeth against the rope, glaring up at the bastard who shares your own flesh and blood.
Your father only stares back, his expression unreadable as a hand suddenly fists into your hair, wrenching your head back. Groaning against the strain in your neck muscles, you keep your wild eyes locked on his out of spite, while a second hand fumbles with the knot at the base of your skull.
You spit the gag onto the ground, panting as you lick at the bloodied corners of your raw mouth before gritting your teeth.
"What is this place?" you rasp.
Your father ignores you, nodding once to the guards, who each bend down to grab an elbow, hauling you to your feet to drag you past the door.
A guttural hiss slips past your lips as you glower over your shoulder, only to be met with a heavy foot slamming into your midback, sending you stumbling forward as they let go.
Your knees hit the ground first with a thud before you faceplant, dirt billowing up around your cheek.
"The Zen'in disciplinary pit," your father growls, crossing his arms. "This is where you will prove your worth, great General."
You roll onto your side, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as he regards you coldly.
"You see," he continues, stepping past the guards to circle around you, his heavy footsteps echoing through the vast, creepy chamber, "we keep second grade curses down here. Vile, ravenous things that would tear an unworthy sorcerer apart in mere seconds."
He lingers in front of you as you manage to sit up fully.
"But the Zen'in are not weak. We're no common line of sorcerers. We're the elite, the strongest of the strong."
His gaze hardens as he smirks.
"And this pit is where one proves whether they are fit to bear our blood and name."
A cold sweat breaks out along your hairline as you huff out a bitter laugh, glimpsing down at your binds.
You bastard, this isn't about discipline...
It's an execution.
"But that's not all," your father adds as you glance up. "There is something else confined in this pit. Not a mere second grade curse, but something far more useful to you."
Your blood runs cold at his words, the color draining from your face as your mouth grows dry.
"What are you talking about?" you murmur.
"All those years ago, when she thought herself clever enough to steal you from this house in the dead of night..."
Your father’s expression turns impassive, his tone mirroring it.
"I could not allow such treachery to go unanswered."
He takes a step closer, kicking you over onto your back to glare down at you.
"So I cast her down here, to the tender mercies of the curses. And you know what? She's still alive."
He lifts his head, drawing in a slow breath as he stares into the reaches of the pit.
"That fierce tenacity of hers, it's managed to help to survive all these years, clinging to a miserable existence in this place."
A ball of warmth surges through your chest, followed by a rush of adrenaline as your breath hitches.
My mother is alive...?
After all this time, enduring unimaginable torment in this hellish pit. She managed to stay alive? But how?
You knew your mother was strong.
But this? It can’t be.
After twenty two years...
Can it be true...?
Your gaze darts past your father, searching the darkness beyond him. Gods, to say you have not longed for her would be an insult to the ache of it.
The thought of seeing her again, hearing her voice, feeling her wrap her arms around you, fills you with something you haven't felt in a long time.
Your father grunts, your attention whipping back to his smug expression.
To that smirk, stirring an ugly feeling in the pit of your guts. He turns away and flicks his hand toward the guards. They move in at once, seizing your elbows roughly to haul you upright.
You struggle against their grip, feet scuffling through the dirt while they curse you under their breath. With a heave, they toss you deeper into the blackened pit.
You land face first on the hard ground with a grunt. Squeezing your eyes shut against your throbbing headache, you turn to the side to spit out a mouthful of dirt.
Your left shoulder throbs like a second heartbeat, crushed under your own weight from the impact as you roll onto your back, coughing and spitting out more dirt.
All the while you listen to the bastards gruff voices fading, before a resounding bang! as the reinforced wooden door slams shut behind all three of them.
"Since you're the great General, having bound hands won't hinder you at all," your father calls out. "Let's see if you live up to your legend...daughter. "
The pressure behind your eyes leaves you nauseous as you struggle to sit up, groaning.
Gods, your ribs are sore. Each breath leaves you feeling like one giant ache as you hiss under your breath, the bastard's face burned into your mind.
And what you'd like to do to it.
"Mrrgghh..."
The guttural growl suddenly rips you from your thoughts as you stiffen. Holding your breath, your head jerks toward the sound as you peer into the darkest corner, praying like hell to any god listening for the gift of a cat's eye.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
You strain every one of your five senses, your head pounding as you respire slowly. But the only thing making itself known is the steady drops of water onto stone.
Cursing under your breath, you act fast. Rolling onto your back like a flipped turtle, your bound wrists ache under your weight as you throw dignity aside with a grunt.
Bending your knees to arch your hips up, you strain your shoulders to open up your chest. Stretching your arms down as far as nature intended for the joint.
Shimmying one leg awkwardly through, then the other. With a huff, you sit up, bringing your still bound hands to your chest as you scan the dark for any movement.
Nothing.
Nothing but you, the silence, the stench, and the adrenaline.
Sucking in a deep breath, you roll your weight forward, using the momentum to clamber to your feet. You're hit with a head rush as you straighten, pursing your lips to steady your breaths as you retreat to the door, not stopping until the cool metal is flush against your back.
What the fuck is in here with me?
Three dim torches line the centre pillars, flames crackling as they spit embers. But spread so far apart, their light barely breaks up the space, leaving your heart skipping beats as you peer into the pitch blackness.
The hairs on your neck stand on end when another guttural groan rumbles from the farthest corner, sending chills racing down your spine. You press yourself harder against the door, working your wrists together, trying to twist the knot loose or fray the rope in any way.
All the while your gaze stays pinned on that damn spot.
The room falls to a deathly stillness until all you can hear is the rustling of your yukata and your own charged breathing.
Another low groan reverberates off the walls, your breath hitching as you lift your head.
That sound...it's different.
It sounds human.
Your heart drops as you swallow thickly.
"Mother...?"
The silence stretches out the fading echo of your voice as you stand completely still. Licking your dry lips, you inhale deeply through your nose.
"Mother?" you croak, giving it a second. "Is that you..?"
A susurration of what sounds like a woman suddenly answers, followed by a flash of motion.
Fuck...!
You drop your gaze to your hands, working the binds aggressively as you grit your teeth.
Crack.
Snap.
Crack. Crack.
Your head whips up at the sounds, chest heaving as your eyes go wide, staring into the opposite corner. Slowly, something starts emerging from the shadows. The closer it gets to the torchlight, the more you can see how jerky and unnatural its movements are.
Dammit! Dammit! Dammit it all to hell!
A bead of sweat trails down your temple as you wrench on your right hand, trying to slip it out. Lifting your eyes to the centre, your heart stops as the thing steps fully into the light.
It's your mother...
But something is wrong.
Her once vibrant eyes are now sunken in and hollow, their bright, beautiful gold light? Dead and grey. Her dull skin is ashen in color, hanging loose on a skeletal frame. Her legs click with each step, like the joints are going to snap at any moment.
Her once lustrous hair now hangs in long, grimy strands, framing her gaunt face.
A sob tears itself from your throat before you can stop it as your mother tilts her head, neck muscles jerking as her soulless eyes hone in on your pale face.
"M-my...c-child," she rasps, black saliva trailing from the corners of her mouth.
"You’ve come..."
Slowly, she reaches out for you, her fingers unnaturally long and twitching.
"Come to me..."
Your vision blurs as tears well up, voice cracking.
"No, mama, no," you breathe, as they spill down your cheeks. "No...You can't be..."
Pain twists your guts raw as you shake your head, your body trembling.
But reality doesn't care about your feelings. Oh no. It's a foul beast. It will rip. It will shred. It will tear you down until you accept it.
This is not your mother anymore.
This is a cursed spirit born from wrongdoing and the loss of her child.
An Ame-onna.
"M-mother...please," you sob, shredding your wrists bloody as you cry out in frustration, trying to rip the rope apart.
But pain is nothing right now. Nothing when your mind is utterly consumed by panic and grief.
The creature takes another jerky step forward, her leg cracking at the knee before the joint pops out entirely, all of her limbs elongating. Hissing, her jaw starts unhinging wide, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth as a long, grey tongue lolls out, reaching the middle of her breast.
"Come...to...me..." she rasps, working her jaw back and forth, saliva dripping onto the ground at her feet.
"My...child..." She takes another step, reaching out a hand, her long, bony fingers cracking as they twitch. "Let me eat you."
You sidestep away, trying to buy yourself some time as you desperately search the pit for something that remotely resembles a weapon.
This can't be real. This can't be happening.
Your mother...
Your beautiful mother. Her kind soul. Her loving nature, all of it reduced to this thing. This twisted mockery of life.
"No, no, no," you break down, shaking your head as the creature advances.
You're left panting, body flushing hot as you manage to shimmy your right hand loose up to the knuckles. You cry out in frustration just as the ame-onna screeches, pausing to shift its weight, bracing back.
Your breath hitches.
She lunges.
"Gods spite...!" You curse, throwing yourself to the ground just as her jaws snap shut with a clack, right where your head had been.
You hit the dirt hard, your ribs bearing the brunt, driving the air from your lungs with an oof! Your forearms throb, crushed under your weight while sharp chips of stone scrape along your skin until it stings.
The creature whirls around, her head hanging at a lopsided angle as she fixes her cold, hungry gaze on you once more.
A low, gurgling growl rumbles from her throat as she flexes her fingers, the claws lengthening by inches until the tips are sharp enough to pierce through armor.
Let alone your flimsy yukata.
Slowly, the ame-onna crawls towards you on spindly limbs, her elongated joints bent out like a spider's legs.
Her black nails glint off the firelight, dragging through the dirt, leaving furrows with each jerky step. More saliva drips from her chin, sizzling as it hits the ground and fills the air with the stench of rotten eggs.
Your nose wrinkles as your eyes water.
"Come...to...me..." she gurgles. "Let...me...hold you..."
You curse aloud, your guts twisting you sick as you frantically scramble backwards, hauling yourself across the ground.
Growling, the creature lunges, claws slashing through the air with blinding speed. You barely manage to roll out of the way before her nails rake through the dirt, sending clumps of earth flying.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant under your breath as you scramble to your feet. Every single one of your muscles burns, growing clumsy as you trip over your own ankle, stumbling a ways before regaining your footing.
Sweat pours down your face, stinging your eyes. You blink into the dark, growing more and more winded as the ame-onna forces you into total defensive maneuvering.
She's getting faster. Bolder in her onslaught. Shortening the time between each attack, giving you less and less time to dodge and recover before she comes for you again.
Cornering you against the far wall, she stretches her arms out wide. And in some twisted, fucked up part of your brain, you can almost see the shape of your mother’s embrace.
Nearly throw yourself into it.
Gritting your teeth, you shake off such a childish thought, pressing your back harder against the cold stone as you glance around frantically, trying to formulate a plan.
With a piercing howl, the ame-onna swings her arm around, aiming to slice your guts open. Eyes wide and thighs taut, you plant your foot behind you, kicking off the wall just in time to duck low."
A shrill screech rings out as her nails clash against the stone, sparks raining down. Despite your maladroit momentum as you fumble forward, you still manage to catch yourself from nosediving into the dirt.
"This isn’t real," you mutter, sprinting to the other side of the pit. "It's not her."
Sobbing, your chest heaves as you collapse against a pillar, glancing over your shoulder. The ame-onna has already turned around, tilting her twitching head, those empty eyes filled with nothing but a baser instinct.
Eyes that once held nothing but love. Now just hunger.
"Come... to me..." she rasps. "Let me....hold...you..eat you...."
Blinking through the sweaty clumps of dirt in your lashes, you miss the flash of movement as the ame-onna swipes your leg. Five stinging lines slice open across your calf to send you tumbling forward with a cry.
Hitting hard, you skid across the ground on your side until your back meets the wall with a crack, knocking the wind out of you with a gasp.
Coughing, your heart races, head spinning as you squeeze your eyes open and shut through the double vision. Your breath hitches as two blurring forms slowly merge into one vengeful spirit, crawling erratically and fast right for you.
Monstrous cries split your ears as those terrifying eyes bore right into you.
And that's when you see it.
I mean, truly see it.
She's gone.
There's nothing left of your mother. Nothing left but a vengeful soul born from the worst of human acts, and driven by a hunger that cannot be satiated.
Pushing up onto your elbow you glance back, fresh tears spilling down your dirt caked cheeks as the ame-onna's head twitches back and forth, dropping down to slowly crawl on all four long, spindly limbs.
You curl your hands into fists, panting as your body starts to burn up from the inside out.
It's all their fault...
They did this. They did this to her. To you.
You suck in a charged breath past your clenched teeth, rolling up onto your knee, glaring.
"I’m going to kill them," you hiss, as the ame-onna tilts its head. "I’m going to kill them all."
The moment those words leave your lips, vibrations tear through your chest.
It starts faint, then begins to pulse faster, as that beautiful, perfidious stone engorges itself on your rage like a beast, unleashing its core essence to flood your limbs with that dark but growingly familiar cursed energy.
The creature's hand sinks into the dirt, nails curling in as it takes another step toward you. A broken sob tears out of your throat as you lift your chin, your heart aching with a pain no words can ever express.
You know what you have to do...
For you.
For your mother.
You’re hit with a head rush. Your pupils blow open, your body flushing hot as your muscles shake with a surge of adrenaline. A low, guttural sound tears from your throat as you rip your arms outward, snapping your binds to free your wrists.
The frayed rope hits the ground with a whump as you push to your feet, narrowing your eyes. The ame-onna hisses, her back legs flexing as she braces for a leap.
You slide your feet apart, lowering your centre of gravity as the stone pulses relentlessly now.
Then comes the voice. A sweet, insidious thing that whispers three little words.
Kill them all.
And for once, you don't fight it. You let it in. Surrender to its searing heat as it fills that empty well deep inside you with its cursed energy. A volatile kind of malevolence that sets your blood alight, and leaves your racing heart pounding, nearly bursting from your ribs.
Something shifts.
The gold of your eyes, the gold that tempers your judicious mind, flickers red. Tainted. Deranged by anger, grief, guilt.
"I'll make this right," you breathe as the ame-onna screeches. Damp earth sprays out behind her hind legs as she leaps, claws outstretched and her gaping mouth primed to tear you open.
Pushing off your back foot, you dive under her frame headfirst, using the momentum to somersault through and recover to your feet. Sprinting all out, you run a cross route, dipping between the pillars as her shrieks echo behind you while giving chase.
Eyes narrowed on the wall, your lungs burn as you lengthen your stride, timing it just right before springing up. You plant one foot against the stone, launching yourself airborne, twisting your hips to swing your instep.
You manage to channel some of that chaotic cursed energy, imbuing your foot before it cracks hard into her jaw. The impact ricochets up your shin as the ame-onna’s head snaps back, black spittle spraying from her mouth as she tumbles backward, spindly limbs flailing into the air.
You land in a crouch, panting, beads of sweat trailing down your temples as you grit your teeth. The ame-onna tosses her head back and forth, long fingers reaching for her broken jaw before she lets out a piercing wail.
"Whyyy..." she howls. "Why... hurt... me...?"
Your throat tightens, tears welling up as you suck in a breath against the broken sob.
"Mama..." you breathe. "I’m sorry."
Grief and rage war inside you, tearing at your guts while the stone pulses in tandem with your heartbeat. Then you feel it, the conduit opening, that binding thread pulling taut between you and...him.
With a roar, you slam your fist into the ground, pouring forth all your pain, all your wrath, every goddamn ugly emotion into the blow. The surface ruptures beneath your knuckles, fissures exploding outward as the pit rumbles, chips of stone raining down from the ceiling.
The ame-onna heaves herself over, shaking her head, those dead eyes staring into the depths of the cracks.
Something stirs.
You see it, a flash of movement as a hiss cuts through the air. The ame-onna growls, staggering back, her wild gaze tracking it while the world drops into a deathly silence...
Boom.
The ground detonates in a shower of dirt as six chains erupt into the air, each one black as night and thick as your wrist. Hissing, they slither to your flanks, obsidian surfaces reflecting the torchlight, wicked barbs jutting from their links like the thorns of a rose.
These things...
Are not yours alone. Not your innate technique born from your positive cursed energy.
Oh gods no.
These chains are corrupted. Forged from something else, pulsing with the same cursed energy that now courses through your body from the conduit.
You glance back, reaching out to brush your fingers along one of the chain's ends, hissing as you prick your finger. A small bead of blood wells up before dripping onto the ground as you turn back to the ame-onna.
You can sense it. This twisted symbiosis, his cursed energy surging through your veins, balanced on the thinnest margin between strength and death.
Never before have you felt anything like this. It's destructive. Chaotic. Intoxicating.
It’s Sukuna.
You squeeze your eyes shut, panting against the pain. His cursed energy thrashes through you, so volatile you can barely keep it contained.
The hunger. The bloodlust.
It's so very close to consuming you. All you have to do is sell your soul.
Is it worth the cost?
A high pitched scream suddenly pierces the air.
Your eyes fly open as the ame-onna advances, her joints cracking while she bounds toward you on all fours. You slide a foot back and brace yourself, your chest twisting with an ache so profound that forcing yourself numb is the only way to survive it.
Slowly, you raise a trembling hand, curling your fingers into a fist at your side as more tears trail down your flushed cheeks. The ame-onna's dead, grey eyes fix on your face, locking with yours.
The torches flicker from the rush of air as she dashes past the centre pillars. Inhaling a slow, broken breath, you grit your teeth and snap your fingers. The chains react instantly, shrieking as they surge forward.
They ambush her from all angles as the ame-onna leaps, snagging her midair and slamming her to the ground in an explosion of dirt. She thrashes back and forth, her long, awkward limbs flailing uselessly as the chains coil around her putrid body.
The thorns start shearing her ashen flesh apart, ripping it down to the bone. Dark blood spurts into the air, pooling into steaming piles and filling the pit with the reeking stench of sulfur.
Her wailing cries echo off the walls, and your stomach drops, clenching around the sobs you fight your damnedest to stifle.
"I’m so sorry, Mama," you rasp, the words barely making it up your throat. "Forgive me."
The creature’s head whips back and forth, blood spilling from the corners of her mouth as the chains constrict tighter. Her cold eyes find yours, and your breath hitches when, for just a fraction of a second...
You see it.
A flicker of recognition passes over the ame-onna’s monstrous features as her eyes soften, revealing a glimpse of the warm golden depths she gifted to you.
You sniff, wiping your eyes as a lump forms in your throat. Each link of chain quivers, holding fast to keep her completely immobilized, waiting for the one word from your lips.
But gods forgive you.
Your tongue just can’t bring itself to say it as the ame-onna stares at you, blackened tears trailing from the corners of her eyes.
You start to sob, guilt twisting your guts sick as she reaches for you. Because deep down, inside that twisted, tortured form, your mother is still there. Still fighting. Still clinging to some shred of her humanity, despite the years of unimaginable torment she has endured.
You squeeze your eyes shut, panting through pursed lips as the chains let out a piercing, impatient shriek.
"Mama," you breathe, your face twisting in pain as you gaze at her once more. "I’ll set you free."
The ame-onna’s head twitches before it tilts, the corners of her misshapen mouth curling into the faintest smile. Something so achingly familiar your heart is torn open anew.
For the briefest of moments, you see her as she once was.
Beautiful. Kind. Full of love and laughter.
The mother who held you close. Who sang you to sleep. Who filled your childhood with light and warmth. The mother who loved you unconditionally and without bounds.
Gritting your teeth, you raise your palm. The chains react with a pulse of cursed energy, snapping her limbs in half as they tighten, bones sticking out between the coils as the ame-onna cries.
"I love you, Mama," you whisper between sobs. "I swear to you, I’ll make them pay for what they did to you. To us."
You inhale deeply as the ame-onna wails again, her eyes squeezing shut just as you snap your fingers.
"Tear."
All six chains hiss, slithering around the ame-onna’s neck and torso, encircling her completely before, in a burst of speed, they wrench outward. Blood and muscle splatter across the ground and walls, flecks spraying over your face as the cursed spirit is reduced to nothing but chunks of flesh.
The head rolls toward the centre, stopping on its side beneath the flickering glow of the torchlight. You nearly collapse as you lower your hand, forcing yourself numb as you watch what’s left of the ame-onna disintegrate into wisps of black smoke.
You have no idea how long you stare at that empty space she leaves behind. How long you drown in the one she leaves inside you.
Your lungs forget how to work. Your heart forgets how to beat. Your mind forgets how to think. Your body just goes hollow to keep from falling apart.
But then the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as a cold rush of air brushes past you, drying the salty tears on your flushed, dirty cheeks.
"Thank... you..."
Your breath hitches as you glance up, only to find nothing there. But you feel it, a presence.
"My... little guardian..." The whisper surrounds you, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Be... free..."
You whip your head around, peering into the dark as the last of the voice fades, leaving behind only the cold, the stone, and stale air.
Your knees give out then, and you collapse to the ground in a fit of wails. The ugly sounds fill the hellish pit as you clutch the sides of your head, rocking back and forth, squeezing your eyes shut.
The chains unwind from one another and slowly slither across the space, leaving trails through the dirt as they return to your side, whining out for you.
Your mouth is dry. Your throat is so fucking raw. Yet, more screams tear themselves free while a crushing heaviness settles on your shoulders as you're forced to accept the cold, hard truth.
You're alone.
Utterly and completely alone. The last fragile thread tethering you to your past, to her, is severed forever.
You double over, hugging yourself, spit and snot trailing down your face as you sob, your entire body trembling as you try to inhale in between. Yet, beneath all that sorrow, all that agony, the stone pulses on.
You glance down at the reddened skin as your chains slither in close, curling up next to you.
You can't help but huff out a bitter laugh before lifting your bloodshot eyes to the door of the pit, narrowing them on the bastards beyond. Slowly, you curl your hands into your sides, digging your fingers into your skin.
The sharp pain in your ribs is nothing nor is the stinging gash along your calf.
Oh no. Beneath the emptiness inside you, something opportunistic stirs. Something that worms its way in and takes hold.
Rage.
You can barely contain it as it burns through your veins. Your body shakes, stomach churning restlessly as it seeps into your broken heart, filling it just enough you can forget the pain.
At least for a little while.
Your skin flushes hot as you pant through the head rush. Sitting back on your shins as your head lolls back, basking in the hit of adrenaline as strength returns to your muscles.
But then you hear it. Faint at first, but growing louder by the second.
"Kill them all.
Your breaths start to quicken as you squeeze your eyes tighter. You recognize the voice, it's your own...but somehow different.
"Come to me..."
"Burn this place to the ground..."
"Tear them apart..."
Your breath hitches as you collapse forward onto one hand, the other brushing over the stone as you suddenly recognize the voice layered beneath your own.
It's Sukuna’s. And yet it's yours, too.
One and the same, together.
But it's strange, you don't feel any revulsion or disgust. What you feel is a euphoric kind of high as the stone tears apart the last vestiges of your rational mind, your humanity.
In truth, it is freeing. Freeing to no longer be burdened by the naive ideals of a young woman foolish enough to believe mercy had ever made her strong.
And so, you welcome him. The feel of him. The sound of his voice. His emotions, until you can no longer feel where you begin and he ends.
Wrath for mercy.
Hate for temperance.
Strength for weakness.
Sucking in a hiss through your teeth, you rise to your feet as cursed energy takes hold of your system, crackling at your fingertips. Your chains stir, shrieking as they gather in close to your flank.
You lift your chin and glare at the heavy door ahead, its wood as thick as your body. Tilting your head, your vision shifts, getting sharper as your eyes change. No longer the gold austerity of the General, but a tainted being, red depths filled with nothing but rage.
Your skin flushes so hot. Your yukata clings too tight. Your head buzzes with the rush of it as you begin to cross the pit.
The voices call out louder, until it's all you hear.
"Come, my little General..."
"Come to me..."
"Kill them all."
A low, inhuman sound rumbles in your chest as you flick your fingers. Three of the chains break away, shrieking as they slither ahead, your eyes narrowing on the door as your father’s scornful face burns in the back of your mind.
"Weak, am I?" you hiss. "I'll show you weak."
The chains throw themselves into the wood with a thunderous crash, the sound echoing through the pit and vibrating up through your toes.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Over and over, the chains hurl themselves against the door.
The heavy wood creaks with each strike, splinters breaking off as the thorns gouge deep and tear out chunks. Earsplitting shrieks fill the pit as the chains strike harder, upping their ferocity tenfold until the metal hinges start groaning under the stress.
More splinters spit out as the door starts to give.
You pause in your advance, lowering your gaze, your heart pounding against your ribs as the chains converge. They draw back as one, gathering their full force before throwing themselves into the final blow.
BOOM!
The door shatters outward in an explosion of wooden shards. Nostrils flared and teeth gritted, you duck down to peer through the now gaping hole and into the dark passage beyond.
"Hmph."
Stepping through, your chains follow eagerly, their links clunking as they slither over the splintered wood. Narrowing your eyes, you reach out a hand, brushing your fingers along the cold stone as you wander forward.
Tilting your head, your lips curl up into a smile. A nasty thing, that holds no warmth, no humanity.
Gone is the General, and in your place is something cursed. Something enraged. Something so hellbent on avenging your mother that you've crossed the point of no return.
You've become something that surrenders to Sukuna’s cursed energy. Something that lets it fill you until he's all you can feel.
His emotions.
You can even hear his laughter, that deranged sound that first haunted you on the battlefield.
I just wanted to say how much I appreciate the fanfiction you've working on Malevolent Mercy. For some reason it is very hard for me to read long stories and be into it for long periods. With this, I find myself reading it first thing in the morning and last thing before bed. Thank you very much for sharing it and for your dedication to continue the story ❤️❤️❤️❤️
You are so very welcome 😊 I'm so happy you're enjoying the story, the kind words and interactions just make writing all the more fun and enjoyable🫶
Take care of yourself and thank you again for reading MM xoxo❤
MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: Malevolent Mercy on Ao3
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💥TW: Violence and gore💥
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Weeks have passed since Kenjaku’s forked tongue first spewed its poison into your ear, pointing a finger at Takeshi’s supposed treachery.
At first, you dismissed it almost immediately. Hell, you’d even laughed to yourself at the sheer absurdity of it.
Takeshi is as loyal to you as you are to him. He raised you, cared for you like a father, and in turn, you have grown to love him like a daughter.
How could someone who rescued you and gave you so much be capable of such deceit?
Exactly.
It’s as insane as it is ridiculous.
He would never betray me.
Because Takeshi is the only other person, besides your mother, who ever truly saw you, made you feel like you were something.
Someone.
And yet?
Kenjaku’s smooth voice drifts through your mind, grasping at your thoughts, testing your convictions, all the while punching holes straight through them.
What if I am right?
Those words.
Those fucking words.
They’ve sat in the back of your mind for weeks now, planting a seed of doubt so deep that no matter how many times you try to tear it out, it just keeps festering.
Until you find yourself constantly ruminating.
No.
Obsessing.
Reevaluating moments of your childhood over and over.
Every word.
Every look.
Every damn gesture, picking through all of it like a madwoman, analyzing every twitch in his eye, every sly smile, every offhand comment, turning each memory over like a puzzle piece and trying to see what fits.
He's an eccentric man, yes, and incredibly unpredictable with his teaching methods.
But that doesn’t mean anything.
At least, nothing obvious that jumps out at you.
And yet...
A question still gnaws at the back of your mind.
What if I missed something...?
Why would the Sugawara clan, already the most revered of all the sorcerer clans, need to align themselves with the likes of the Zen'in?
A family infamous for treating enemies and allies alike, with the same cold, callous hand.
You had seen firsthand the lengths the Zen’in would go to consolidate their power.
So what could the Sugawara possibly gain from aligning with such a clan...?
It doesn’t make sense.
That's the missing puzzle piece that has you damn near pulling your hair out.
Even now, your damn brain won't shut off despite your body being pushed to the brink. Huffing low, your core flexes tight as you lower into a push up, arms shaking under your weight.
Sweat beads at your temples as you grit your teeth, hovering your chest just above the ground until your muscles are burning.
One.
Two.
Three.
With a huff, you engage your triceps for the last push up and lock your elbows into a full extension.
Sweat drips onto the tatami below as you hold yourself there a second longer to suck in a breath, filling your lungs before blowing it out and dropping your knees.
Groaning audibly, you sit back on your heels, running a hand through your sweat-drenched hair, brushing the strands from your brow, knowing they're probably sticking out every which way.
But whatever, it feels so damn good.
After that day you found the scroll, you vowed to yourself to no longer sit idle.
And so, every day like clockwork, you aimed to push your body harder in new ways.
Starting with walking.
Then push ups and planks.
Hell, even chin ups from tree branches. Anything and everything, until the body that was once frail and wasted from weeks of chained confinement is restored to its former strength.
That, in addition to Uraume making sure you are regularly fed under Sukuna’s orders, sped up your recovery faster than expected.
For reasons that are obvious, you refuse to touch any of the meat dishes offered, the memory of...that day...is still fresh in your mind, the wound still raw.
Instead, you subsist on a simple diet of rice and fish, a bland but nourishing fare that sufficiently restores your energy reserves.
As you stretch your arms over your head with a contented groan, the muscles in your chest and back flex tight. You can't help but celebrate the feeling of strength in your body once more.
Looking at it as a little victory mixed with a small measure of comfort. Not much, but in your world? The one that has become so chaotic and out of your control?
You’ll take it.
Although, there's still a missing piece of you that leaves you hollow.
Your cursed energy.
It feels so close, and yet, still always out of reach.
The feeling is maddening.
Like standing before a door you know by heart, your hand pressed flat to the wood, only to find it barred from the other side.
No matter how hard you shove, it won't budge.
You exhale sharply through your nose and let your arms fall back to your sides.
Fine.
Fuck it.
If cursed energy refuses to answer you, then your body will.
At least your body still belongs to you.
Shaking your head, you sigh, knowing the dangers of brooding over that.
You pull yourself up off the floor, seating your butt on the edge of your futon, before falling back onto the mattress with a sigh. Draping both your arms over your face while your eyes drift closed, your chest feeling a strange sense of ease.
The estate had grown...quieter.
Peaceful, even, if you can call it that.
You find Sukuna's absence a welcome reprieve, for more than one reason. Because the simple thought of him, being in his presence, spurs up so many different types of emotions every damn time.
Humiliation.
Indignity.
Guilt.
And your favourite?
Shame.
The vast amount of it turning your stomach, leaves you sick.
Gods, the sheer rage you felt attacking him...
The burning up.
The fucking ache.
The way his breath had felt against your skin, the heat spreading from your throat all the way down to your chest.
Your body betrayed you.
It had fallen under the spell of relief, of the sudden absence of pain.
And it still betrays you, even now, with that same traitorous ache from the memory of him pinning you down. His large hand gripping your jaw, holding you in place like some wild animal. His eyes burning with that terrible intensity. His words.
Oh, so promising.
Gods, that you had even allowed yourself, for a single second, to consider giving in leaves you nauseous.
Because with absolute, unequivocal certainty, you fucking hate him.
Groaning, you stretch your arms high above your head, staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes tracing over the wooden beams.
So yes, without a doubt, his absence has been a much needed opportunity to think in peace. To reaffirm your commitment of keeping your emotions in check and never again let Sukuna put you in that position.
You lift your arm to drape over your eyes, wincing from a sudden sharp pain at your shoulder. Glancing down, you rub at it gently, fingertips brushing the angry red scab where Sukuna’s teeth tore into your flesh.
A low sound of disgust slips out, leaving you livid all over again.
Still.
The estate is so damn quiet, and some days, there is no denying how badly the loneliness gets to you. Or just how much you crave something as simple as conversation.
Given your only interactions, if they can even be called that, are limited to Uraume in passing. Either dropping off meals or lurking from afar. Haunting your steps on days you wander through the estate.
They never speak a word to you. Oh no, you're unworthy, their words are reserved for him and him alone.
However on the odd days, when you find yourself particularly antsy and without your icy shadow. You wander the halls, heart rate spiking when you catch glimpses of other women, safe to assume the attendants of the estate.
They move timidly, blending into their surroundings in an effort to be as invisible as possible, their eyes always downcast and their voices never rising above a meek note.
However, that doesn't deter you from offering a greeting, if only to break up the monotony of listening to your own voice in your head.
To speak with someone. To anyone.
Yet, despite the kind words and gentle smiles, you're only ever met with guarded wariness, their bodies tensing, eyes widening like Sukuna himself is standing just over your shoulder.
Even simple questions about their day or their wellbeing earn stuttered, one word replies, their eyes darting anywhere and everywhere but yours before they bow their heads and quickly excuse themselves back to their duties, leaving you standing there alone.
And then your grim reality comes crashing down all over again.
These women, just like you, are prisoners, their lives and fates bound to the whims of a sadistic bastard.
Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, zoning out to the sound of your own soft breaths, boredom forever a blessing and a curse.
Maybe it's better this way. Better not to make friends. Better not to hand Sukuna one more thing he can throw right back in your face. You already learned that lesson the hard way with Tsuki, and that crushing guilt will haunt you until the day you die.
And on the days that guilt becomes too cumbersome? You walk.
Walk through the estate.
The gardens.
All the while, searching for something.
Someone.
Kenjaku.
It pisses you off to admit it, but his knowledge of cursed energy is impressive. Worse, it's intriguing. The way he speaks of things is enough to convince you he may be even more informed on the nature of Jujutsu than even Sukuna.
Maybe that's why those words linger in your mind. Not because you trust him, oh hell no, but because he knows things. Things about you. About Takeshi. About the history that ties all of you together that none other are privy to.
So is it wisdom?
Yes.
Is wrapped in a layer of lies?
Also yes.
Sighing, you sit up on the edge of the futon, wiggling your toes absentmindedly as your daily dose of restlessness stirs your system.
I reckon now is as good a time as any to carry out my duties.
Pushing to stand, the floorboards creak softly underneath your socked feet as you pad across the room, sliding back the shōji to step out into one of many hallways that make up this sprawling place.
As you make your way down the corridor, your gaze drifts, idly counting the empty rooms you pass on your route to the east annex. Thanks to the long days of isolation and your ever growing boredom, you managed to memorize how to navigate this gigantic maze.
Exiting the annex, you hop down from the engawa and follow the garden path, gravel crunching beneath your steps.
The crisp morning air feels refreshing on your sweaty skin, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. You hum contentedly to yourself and breathe it in deep, filling your lungs.
As you exhale, your eyes drift over the quiet garden, eventually finding their way to the eastern skyline.
Hah. Would you look at that, no wonder it's so damn quiet.
The sun is just starting to crest the horizon, pouring forth its light to break up the last of nights hold.
Honestly? On mornings like this, you almost forget where you are.
The scenery is breathtakingly beautiful.
Its serenity has a way of rubbing off on you, distracting your brain from the reality of who all of this belongs to and the horrendous circumstances that brought you here.
Huffing out a dry laugh, you continue wandering down the garden path. Once again, finding your gaze drifting, appreciating the hydrangea shrubs lining the way on either side of you.
Bees are already hard at work, the low droning of their pumping wings fills the air as they busy themselves amongst the blue and purple blooms, their fuzzy little bums coated in pollen.
Slowing to a casual stroll, you decide right then and there to give yourself some grace, to allow yourself to relish in this rare moment of peace. Reaching out, you brush your fingertips along the flat sepals, rubbing their softness between your fingertips.
Just ahead stands a copse of cherry blossom trees, a dozen or so. Each one rises tall and proud, branches stretching wide and heavy with blossoms in full bloom, together forming a lush pink canopy, all the more beautiful in the morning light.
Tilting your head back, you blink as a few stray petals drift down, catching in your lashes and hair. Reaching up, you pluck one out, admiring the color as you roll it between your index and thumb.
More petals float down around you, and the moment you lower your head, you're hit with a sudden tightness in your throat. Soon a heaviness starts to brew in your chest, and before you can stifle it, a choked sob slips out.
Letting the petal fall to the ground, you clap a hand to your mouth, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs as Tsuki fills your thoughts.
Gods, the way her eyes would light up when she talked about racing through the cherry blossom trees in her own village.
The way she’d giggle and admit she used to pretend it was her own little enchanted world, somewhere her imagination could run wild.
The way she smiled at you when she said that one day, she was going to take you there, her round cheeks rosy in excitement.
Oh Tsuki...
She would have loved this moment.
Tears spill down your cheeks as you remember that sweet girl and everything that was taken from her.
Her innocence.
Her life.
All because I failed to protect her from that fucking bastard.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you wrap your arms tightly around yourself, gritting your teeth hard until the muscles in your jaw ache.
Desperately trying to hold yourself together physically as you mentally fall apart.
The thought of what was taken from you, of what you let be taken from her, is eating you fucking alive.
I'm so sorry Tsuki.
Please forgive me.
Just as the thought finishes, the wind picks up suddenly, whipping your hair against your face, drying the wetness on your cheeks and leaving your skin feeling tight.
Above you, the branches groan and creak while the petals scattered across the ground sweep upward, caught in a swirling vortex around you.
For a moment, it almost feels like Tsuki is here with you, wrapping you in one last fleeting embrace, telling you she’s finally free.
Finally free to live.
Free to run through those cherry blossoms with the wind in her hair.
Your lip trembles as you suck in another broken sob, wiping your cheeks and lashes with the sleeve of your yukata.
There will be time to truly mourn her.
Time to avenge her.
But right now? You have to focus on survival, take one day at a time until you figure out a way to break free and recover your cursed energy.
And when that day comes? You will atone for your failure with blood.
Yours, or the bastard’s.
Sucking in a deep breath, you force your feet to move, albeit begrudgingly, until the rhythmic crunch of gravel tells you they’re listening.
Pulling yourself together as best you can, you push forward, rounding a bend in the trail with your eyes downcast, trying to focus inward, to calm the tightness in your chest, the knots in your guts.
Around you, life goes on anyway, indifferent as ever. Crickets chirp, warblers sing, their low hooo hokekyo calls drifting through the air. As you descend a small hill and round one last bend, you finally lift your eyes, your hooded gaze settling on the sole reason you came here.
An old stone well.
As you approach, your eyes trace over its weathered surface, the rough stone softened by layers of moss, beetles scurrying across. Leaning over the edge, you peer down into its dark depths before reaching for the bucket’s frayed rope.
With a huff, you carefully lower it down until the deep plunk of wood hitting water echoes up from below, the sudden tension in the rope tells you it's sinking.
Your biceps flex taut, breath hitched with the effort as you haul it back up, the rough fibres scraping your palms as you alternate your grip, one hand over the other.
Nearly there, c'mon woman.
Cold water sloshes inside, splashing over the rim onto your forearm, your skin prickling into goosebumps as you heave the bucket onto the edge with an undignified grunt.
"Phew."
Wiping the length of your forearm across your brow, you pause a moment, hands on your hips while you catch your breath.
Damn, I swear it gets heavier every time.
Running a hand through your hair to brush some of the stragglers off your brow, you lift the bucket with the other. Instantly, the weight tugs at your shoulder as you set off on your next order of business, hauling the damn thing up to the temple.
The thought of having to return to that place leaves you fuming, but you know better than to argue with Uraume.
Not when circular reasoning is their weapon of choice.
You groan a dreadful sound under your breath as you make your way back up the path.
Gods, words can't express how much you hate that place with every ounce of your being.
Hate everything it stands for.
Hate the fucking thing it stands to worship.
Panting, the trail starts to narrow the higher you climb, the trees spreading out more sparsely the closer you draw to the temple. It's so damn quiet, only the occasional chitter of squirrels breaks the silence, that, and the crunch of your geta.
By the time you reach the base of the steps leading to the shrines archway, your arm and leg muscles are burning in equal measure. Grunting with effort, you begin the climb, one by one.
One.
Two.
Three.
...Four.
On the fifth step, you finally lift your head, glancing up as you approach the archway. A thick string of shimenawa dangles across the top, swaying with the wind, and the minute your eyes land on the vast temple looming beyond it, your throat goes tight.
Gods, it dwarfs everything around it.
Passing under the torii, your gaze drifts over the dark, aged wood of its beams, polished to such a degree, it can only be the result of countless hands forced into serving Sukuna’s ego.
That, you have no doubt about.
Sighing, you drag your feet the last stretch, dreading the sight of those heavy, wooden doors as they draw closer.
But at this point, what’s the use in delaying the inevitable?
The thought taunts you as you press your shoulder against the thick wood, grunting when you throw your weight into it. The iron hinge creaks as the door finally gives, opening just wide enough for you to slip through, bucket in tow.
The moment you clear the threshold, the door slams shut behind you with a reverberating bang. The sound vibrates through the stone floor, echoing around you as your feet carry you deeper into the vastness of the temple.
The first thing to hit you is the smell.
The air inside is stale, filled with the smoky fumes of agarwood from the burning incense lining the walls. But it’s that underlying, familiar stench that makes your nose wrinkle in disgust.
Death.
It fills your lungs, turning your guts in a knot.
It doesn't take long before the eeriness of this place starts to get under your skin. The soft scuffle of your steps. The crackle of the flames. The chill in the air. But it’s that damn throne, and the way the skulls seem to smile back at you, that sends a shiver up your spine.
As you approach the dais, that's when you notice it, a large dried puddle of blood caked to the floor. Instantly you feel nauseous as your eyes trail over the bloody smear and hand prints, like someone had been dragged...
Gods above.
You swallow against the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat, the water sloshing at your side with each hesitant step.
Gritting your teeth, you kneel and set the bucket off to the side with a sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the arduous task ahead.
Scrubbing it clean.
And of course, the damn thing is just as stubborn as you expected the moment your brush touches the stone.
Your lower back already aches as you work furiously at it, cursing under your breath. The harsh, grating scrape of the bristles accosts your ears while the water slowly turns rusty with each pass.
But it seems like no matter how hard you scrub, or how long you keep at it, the damn stain won't give.
Oh no.
It only spreads wider, wet once more. Like a grim omen of just how many atrocities this cursed place has seen.
And here you are, forced to bear witness to every moment of it.
You hiss in disgust, grumbling out a curse under your breath as sweat beads along your brow.
And with it comes that same heavy feeling of helplessness weighing on your hunched frame.
Subjugation is a bitter goddamn taste let me tell you, and this damn cursed stone is the constant reminder of what was stolen from you.
Because without your cursed energy, you are left docile.
Forced to serve.
Tamed.
Reduced to nothing more than every stroke of the brush against the stone floor.
A small grunt slips past your lips as the muscles in your arms and back ache in tandem, your fingers tingling from the tight grip on the brush’s handle.
But you don’t stop, your hands moving in a steady motion until, finally, the blood starts to lift, swirling in the water.
Your nose wrinkles in disgust at the sight, the metallic scent filling your nostrils.
All around you, the silence is deafening, the repetitive scrape of the brush is the only tune your ears hone into.
But then your one woman orchestra gains a second instrument in the form of bare feet slapping against stone, the rhythm as obnoxious as it is familiar.
The tension in your jaw is instant as your blood starts to boil.
You know exactly who it is without even looking.
Yorozu.
Your knuckles turn white, as your grip tightens on the brush. The sound of each of Yorozu's steps growing closer, is an assault on your already frayed nerves.
You keep your eyes fixed down on your task at hand, scrubbing at the bloodstain with a singular focus.
Just keep your cool. Disregard anything she says. Don't lose your head and do something stupid.
"Well, well...would you look at that." Yorozu murmurs, her words echoing through the cavernous space.
"Still on your knees I see."
You grit your teeth so hard, the muscle in your jaw throbs. Gods, the sound of Yorozu's shrill laugh is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears.
"If it isn't the mighty General," she hums, gesturing to your hunched over frame.
"Reduced to scrubbing floors like some common little servant."
The air seems to shift as she draws nearer, her presence about as welcome as a festering wound.
She moves with an arrogant kind of swagger, her haori hanging open from her frame as though the effort of dressing herself properly is beneath her. Sauntering over like she has all the time in the world, as if demanding the universe acknowledge her existence.
With a toss of her head, she flips her long hair over her shoulder, staring down at you with that insufferable smirk on her lips.
"Mm, no, it does suit you," she muses with a soft little laugh, sneering down at you.
"I always thought you were a little too proud for your own good."
You grit your teeth, biting back the scathing retort burning on the tip of your tongue as you continue to scrub at the stone floor.
Just turn a deaf ear, focus on your task at hand.
The last thing you want is to give her the satisfaction of seeing you rattled, though the temptation to lunge for her throat is getting stronger let me tell you.
Your ears train on the soft slap of her feet against the stone, your body hyper aware of her every movement as she begins to circle you like a vulture around a carcass.
"How the mighty have fallen," she continues, her tone sickeningly sweet.
"Tell me, what’s going on in that head of yours beneath all that stiff, self righteous pride while you kneel there scrubbing away the blood of Sukuna’s latest amusement?"
Your fingers tighten around the brush, cartilage straining until the handle creaks in protest, the wood threatening to splinter beneath your grip.
But still, you keep your cool.
Silent.
Your eyes never leave the bloodstained swirls clouding the water as you focus solely on the rhythm of the motion.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Scrub.
She scoffs as she brushes past you, climbing the dais to Sukuna’s throne and sprawling across it, utterly nude. The whole thing is clearly a vulgar little display meant to get under your skin.
Jokes on her. You couldn’t care less.
With a long groan, she stretches languidly, like a cat in the sun, arching her back and draping one leg over the side. Her hair spills over the armrest, dark strands catching in the low firelight.
"You know," she says idly, her voice echoing against the walls. "I rather like seeing you like this."
She runs a hand along her thigh, stopping midway to trace random patterns across her skin.
"It's a fitting place for someone delusional enough to challenge the King of Curses and think they would win. "
You continue scrubbing, concentrating on tuning her out.
Every word coming out of her mouth feels like a direct insult to your nervous system, it responds in kind by releasing a rush of adrenaline.
Just breathe, focus on that.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in
Breathe out.
"I’ll admit, I am curious, though," she muses, stretching her arms lazily over her head.
"What does Sukuna want with you? Why keep a broken thing alive?"
She shifts until she’s comfortable, sighing contently like she hasn’t a care in the world, wiggling her toes before resting her hands on her navel.
It takes every ounce of self control you possess to keep from rolling your eyes at such an obvious ploy. Instead, you channel that ugly energy into your fingers, digging your nails into the wood of the brush.
Gods know it would be easy to retaliate, to spit out every venomous thing burning on the tip of your tongue.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Yorozu lets out a dramatic groan, chewing at her thumbnail as she narrows her eyes at you.
"Or maybe," she croons thoughtfully. "He keeps you around for other reasons."
She trails a finger down her sternum, the chill of the temple making her pink nipples hard.
"Maybe he likes having you under his heel, serving his every whim." She flicks her hand nonchalantly.
"Or perhaps he wishes to indulge in the look on your face when he makes you watch while he fucks me."
Your stomach turns, the acidic taste of bile rising in your throat, forcing you to swallow it down.
The thought of Sukuna touching her, of his hands on her skin, his body joined with hers...
It's enough to make you want to retch.
You can feel her eyes boring into the top of your head as you keep your own downcast, silent as you work, her attempts to provoke you growing bolder by the second.
Yet still, you don't engage.
Still, you scrub.
"Can you imagine it?" Yorozu muses.
"The sounds I would make as he fucks me, over and over again? The way I would moan his name?"
She arches against the throne, trailing her fingers lazily over her own body, clearly having never known the meaning of shame.
"I almost pity you," she says, smiling to herself.
"Mhmm, I can’t wait for him to come back. By dawn, I’ll have him buried so deep inside me, he won’t even remember your pathetic name."
She laughs softly.
"You’ll still be up here, scrubbing dirt from the floor, because that's all you're good for."
She tilts her head to glance at you then, her smile widening the very second she catches the muscles in your jaw tick.
"No, better yet." She snaps her fingers, grinning like a madwoman.
"Perhaps I shall have you serve us the morning meal while I sit in his lap and ride him before your eyes. Would that please you? To stand there in silence and watch him lose himself in a sorcerer of actual worth?"
You scrub harder, feeling a rush of heat burning behind your ears as the tension in your fingers grows with each cycle of strokes, until they're left shaking.
Don't listen to her...
Listen to the sounds.
Scrub.
Scrape.
Scrub.
"Hmm." Yorozu hums as she cocks her head to the side, studying you through narrowed eyes.
"Really? Nothing to say...?"
She flashes you a smirk.
"Not even one little word?" She adds, pinching the air before scoffing in disgust with a flick of her hand in your direction.
"Huh, well you must be accustomed to it by now, no? Being beneath him. Beneath me. Beneath everyone."
Each new degrading insult she slings at you, despite the self control of your actions, just opens up the way for those more intrusive thoughts to creep in...
Thoughts of shoving this brush so far down her throat, it shuts her the fuck up for good.
As beautiful as those ugly thoughts are, you keep scrubbing. Focus on the ache in your knees against the cold stone floor, the tightness in your lower back muscles, literally anything and everything but her.
Closing your eyes, you suck in a slow, deep breath just as Yorozu sits up on the throne, resting her elbows on her thighs as she leans forward to stare you down.
"Useless."
"Weak."
"Broken."
The corner of your lip twitches as you bite the inside of your cheek when she sighs dramatically again, lounging back in the throne and flashing you far too much skin than you care to see.
And that's when you feel it...
Slow at first, but building in tempo with every passing second.
The onyx stone.
Like a slumbering beast finally stirring awake, it feeds on your growing rage and answers with dark cursed energy, writhing beneath your skin as it twists into something else.
Something unfamiliar.
Something that spreads through your body to wrap around your heart and force its way into your system.
Your stomach drops as your breath hitches, goosebumps erupting across your chilled flesh as low, sinister whisper invades your mind.
She's the weak one.
Tear her throat out.
Wear her blood.
You suck in a deep breath just as the stone flares hotter in your chest, its pulsations growing stronger, like a vice clamping down around your lungs until drawing air turns into a struggle.
You focus intently on the brush in your hands, on the wet scrape of bristles against stone, trying like hell to drown it out.
The voices. The stone.
Just all of it.
But some rotten, ugly part of you wants to give in.
Wants to listen.
To be consumed by it.
Yorozu clicks her tongue, glaring as she studies your reaction, or lack thereof.
"What's the matter, little General? " she starts, her voice dropping low. "For all that sanctimonious pride, you can't even manage a single word?"
She tilts her head, smiling cruelly.
"Or perhaps, did that insolent mouth of yours finally learn reverence when Sukuna forced you to your knees?"
She laughs, clapping her hands once.
"Oh, I can see it so clearly," she says, grinning. "The great General, once so uppity and mighty, reduced to a whimpering mess at Sukuna's feet."
She leans forward again, pointing at you.
"Tell me, did you beg for mercy? Did you get on your knees and plead for him to spare your pathetic life?"
Your jaw is clenched so tightly now, all you can hear is the gnashing of your teeth as the stone pulses erratically. It feels as if your body is burning up from the inside out, the whispers growing louder, more insistent.
Rip her apart.
Show her who is truly weak.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she snaps, slamming the armrest with the flat of her hand. "Why won't you say anything?"
She rises abruptly, descending the dais steps and stalking towards you, her bare feet slapping against the stone.
"You're pathetic," she hisses, looming over you. "Weak. Useless. Do you imagine this silence makes you formidable?"
She crouches down, bringing her face level with yours, her dark eyes boring into your downcast ones.
"You will never understand Sukuna as I do," she hisses, her breath hot against your face.
"You will never know what it is to devote yourself to him. To revere him with every shred of your being. He is no mere man, he is divine. And I alone am fit to show him what love is."
Her hand shoots out, gripping your chin roughly to tip your head back, forcing you to meet her gaze. You hiss against the sting as her nails dig into your skin.
"But you?" she murmurs. "You're nothing. A broken little toy he keeps around for his amusement, nothing more. And when he tires of you, when he's finished playing with his little General, he will cast you aside like the refuse you are."
The stone is pulsing so violently now, it feels as though it might split your chest and burst free, its dark energy seeping deeper, sinking into marrow, into sinew, into the very pits of your soul.
The whispers in your mind grow louder and louder, until it becomes deafening, drowning out all rational thought.
Your breath hitches as you recognize it...the voice.
It's your own.
Except it's not. It's more twisted and distorted, like a siren coaxing you with her song towards the edge of madness.
Rip her apart now.
Tear her flesh with your teeth.
Paint the walls with her blood.
The words sound oh so sweet, like the stone is calling forth your deepest desires. Calling out to some dark and starving thing you'd never even known lived inside you, waiting to be fed.
You stare at Yorozu blankly, her voice fading until her taunts are nothing more than a dull buzz in the distance.
And then something shifts.
Something deep inside you.
Something vicious.
Your body is burning so hot it makes your head spin. Beads of sweat gather along your nape as your pupils blow open. Lungs expand wide, filling with air, your heart pounding harder and faster until your temples throb.
Adrenaline.
One hell of a high.
You blink, exhaling hard through your nostrils as your senses heighten, snapping the room into clear focus.
The muscles in your body flex tight, the aches and pains in your body smothered beneath a rush of dopamine.
And that’s when it hits you. A hunger so profound, so feral, it leaves you drunk on it.
Bloodlust.
Your breathing quickens as it courses through your veins, your vision narrowing until the whole world is reduced to Yorozu’s sneering face and the feel of her fingers digging into your skin.
A sound of disgust slips out as your hand flies up to grip her wrist. The brush falls from your fingers and clatters against the stone between you, bouncing once before skidding away.
Yorozu jerks on instinct the second your nails sink into her flesh, digging in deeper and deeper until beads of blood well up and start trailing down her forearm.
She gasps, eyes widening as you rip her hand away, throwing it down before surging to your feet. Yorozu follows, her face twisting into a look of scorn as she squares up against you.
"Oh, at last," she hisses, rubbing at her wrist. "So there's still some fight left in you after all. Come then, little General, show me what you got."
Your lip curls, baring your teeth like some rabid animal.
"I care nothing for that fucking monster, nor for his wretched life," you hiss, using your height to glare down at her.
"The only reason that bastard yet draws breath is because of this cursed stone. So have him, if you desire him so badly. Take him, take that diseased, one sided devotion you call love."
You step in closer, flashing her a nasty smile as you tilt your head.
"Or would you rather wait for the day I kill him, then hunt you down and put you in the ground to rot beside him?"
You huff out a bitter laugh as Yorozu’s face contorts with rage, nostrils flared and teeth clenched.
"You miserable excuse for a sorcerer," she spits. "How dare you speak of him so?"
She takes a step toward you, eyes burning to the edge of madness.
"You think yourself greater than me? Greater than him?" Her lip curls up in disgust. "You're nothing but a broken shell, a pathetic fool still scrambling after a strength that has already forsaken you."
Hah.
You take a step back, closing your eyes as you tip your head back and suck in a breath through your teeth, trying to quell the frantic pounding of your heart.
But it does nothing.
It doesn't calm the fire building beneath your skin.
Nor does it silence the voices.
And it sure as hell does not smother the instinct.
Oh no.
The bloodlust only grows hungrier, gorging on everything like a damn beast, always demanding more. And her words are the barbs hooking into its great hide, left there to fester, until you become something else.
Something rotten to the core, just like Yorozu.
With one single purpose.
Destroy her.
Your body moves like it’s no longer your own as your left foot slides back, arm cocked as your hips twist, shoulder rolling through the haymaker thrown with everything you’ve got behind it.
You don’t even realize it’s happening until your knuckles connect with her jaw.
CRACK
Her head snaps to the side, long hair flying across her face as a guttural gasp tears out of her. Your body pivots with the follow through as she goes stumbling, feet clumsily tripping over themselves before she crashes to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
For a moment, as you stand there panting, everything feels surreal.
Your knuckles throb, pain radiating through your index and middle finger, the only thing left to convince you what you've just done.
But you barely even feel it.
Not with this fire still pumping through your veins, not with the high you’re riding.
It feeds your body, your hunger, clawing at your mind to demand more.
More of her pain.
More of her blood.
It wants more.
And so do you.
Yorozu slowly pushes herself up onto shaky arms, blood trailing down her chin from where she bit her tongue, dripping onto the stone in dark red splats. Sniffing once, she wipes at it with the back of her hand, smearing it across her bruised cheek before spitting a fat glob of bloodied saliva onto the floor.
She flashes you a grin then, teeth stained red as her eyes never once leave yours.
"Well, well," she rasps, swiping the pad of her thumb across her bottom lip.
"Nice hook."
She staggers to her feet, swaying slightly as she finds her balance. The arrogance in her gaze is long gone, burned away by something feral, the kind of fucked up high bordering on madness.
Well?
Fine by you.
Let the bitch burn.
You'll meet her in the flames.
"Come on then," she goads, spreading her arms wide. "Show me what you've really got."
You huff out a dry laugh, lifting your chin as you stare her down.
Pain means nothing now.
Emotion means nothing.
Reason can go to hell.
The world has become simple, distilled down to one singular purpose.
To kill her.
The color in your eyes shifts, gold consumed by red as you hold her gaze, offering her an ugly grin of your own.
The stone thrums, cursed energy pulsing from it in time with your racing heartbeat, flooding your veins with a strength that has been chained for far too fucking long.
And unleash it you do.
You explode off your back foot and lunge at Yorozu, closing the gap fast with your fist cocked back once more, eyes wide and locked on her face.
Yorozu’s eyes fly open, but the tough bitch has decent reflexes, you’ll give her that, as she throws up both arms just in time for a cross block.
CRACK.
The sound is deafening as your fist collides with the hard bone of her forearm, the vibration rebounding up your arm to your shoulder.
Yorozu fires back fast, driving her knee toward your gut. But you twist your hips to throw up your leg, checking her strike, your quad muscle absorbing the brunt of the hit.
But you feel no pain, no discomfort.
Only euphoria.
It’s as if the world has slowed. Call it an Alice in wonderland kind of feeling, where you're the white rabbit.
And Yorozu?
She’s the poor fool trying to catch you.
You see everything. The shift of muscle beneath her skin. The bunching of tendons. The subtle tells in her footwork that you clock right away.
It’s child’s play to anticipate.
You duck under another one of her wild haymakers, exploiting her over extension to step into her guard with an uppercut right up the middle. But she manages to throw herself back just enough so your fist skims up her face, connecting with her nose instead of breaking her teeth.
CRUNCH.
Yorozu groans as her head snaps back, blood spurting down her face as she staggers a step, stunned.
But you give her no time to recover.
No mercy.
She’s still blinking, still trying to shake the stars from her vision as you’re already on her again. You slip around her flank, plant your left foot, and use it as a pivot to whip your right leg around high in a roundhouse.
CRACK.
The instep of your foot connects with her temple, sending her sprawling to the ground in a heap as you ride through the motion.
Yorozu barely manages to catch herself on her hands and knees, head hanging low as she gasps for breath. Blood drips onto the stone beneath her as she squeezes her eyes shut.
But still, she rises.
Staggering to her feet, she cradles the side of her head in one palm, sucking in a deep breath before lifting her chin to glare at you. Then she spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor and grins through red stained teeth.
"Is that all you've got?" she rasps.
You flash her a nasty smile of your own before raising your fists back into guard.
This time, Yorozu strikes first.
She lunges in fast.
What follows is a dirty, ugly, close quarters barrage fueled by weeks of pent up hatred.
Fists meet crossblocks with a crack.
Kicks bury into ribs with a crunch.
Forearms block jabs and haymakers with resounding smacks.
A violent chorus of flesh and bone fills the temple as neither of you gives the other an inch.
Yorozu fights with the desperate strength of a cornered animal. Wild and reckless, but fast enough to be dangerous.
She takes your right fist to the ribs with a choked gasp, only to twist through the pain and slam her forearm up in time to block the kick aimed for her head.
But it's futile.
For every hit she manages to land, you deliver ten in return. Your body moves so fluidly, your mind in a state of calm, your skills honed to a level that far exceeds her own.
She's physically outmatched in every way, a fact that becomes more apparent with each passing second.
Yorozu, battered and bleeding, lunges at you in a final, desperate attack. Her fist flies toward your face as she twists her body, throwing all her weight into the left hook.
The muscles in your legs tense, ready to dodge, until you feel a sudden surge of power welling up inside you, a dark and potent energy that crackles through your veins like searing fire.
It's cursed energy.
But so abhorrently different from yours in the sense it feels like pure chaotic and raw power.
The stone hums with a dark light, flooding your body with that unfamiliar cursed energy, entwining it with your own strength until the two are indistinguishable.
Time seems to slow as Yorozu's fist inches towards you, the world narrowing down to this single moment.
Something shifts in you, your eyes can now see every detail with crystalline clarity, the manic gleam in her eyes, the flecks of spittle on her lips, the strands of hair plastered to her sweat-soaked forehead.
In that suspended second, you move.
With a low growl, you launch forward once more, your body twisting with inhuman agility around the blow.
As you duck under, squaring off at her side, you channel the volatile cursed energy into your leg, focusing it into a single, devastating point.
Huffing out a breath, you slip into her blind spot and brace off your back foot, hips rotating as you lash out with a roundhouse.
Your instep swings around fast, connecting into Yorozu's side, the strike fortified by cursed energy. Her ribs crack under the impact, tearing a shriek from her throat as the force lifts her clean off her feet, sending her hurtling across the room.
BOOM!
The thunderous sound consumes the entire space as she slams into a column.
The stone starts cracking as Yorozu crumples to the base in a broken heap, her head bowing forward, dark hair spilling over her bloodied face as smaller chips of stone rain down across her shoulders and back.
You ride through the follow through, planting your lead foot to square back up, panting, your chest heaving. Cursed energy still surges through your body, crackling between your twitching fingers.
Slowly, you stalk towards Yorozu, your steps light like a predator.
Lifting your chin, you wipe some blood away from your temple, ignoring the stinging coming from your split brow.
Lucky hit.
Following that bitter thought, Yorozu begins to stir.
Groaning low, she lifts her head, blinking dazedly through the blood in her lashes.
You pause halfway, cold gaze watching the arduous process of her forcing her body upright.
First, she rolls onto her side, planting one hand, then the other. Her fingers scrape against the stone, nails catching in the cracks as she pants through her teeth.
She grimaces with the effort of dragging one knee beneath herself, then forces herself to her feet.
Hah.
An ugly kind of satisfaction settles in the pit of your gut as you take in her injuries, tightening your features into a deathly glare.
Her left temple is swollen purple, the bruising spreading toward her eye. Blood coats her chin from her busted nose and split lip.
And yet, she holds her head high, flashing you a crooked smile through bloodied teeth.
Now you see why.
Cursed energy gathers low in her abdomen, concentrating it's density before she releases it, flooding her body.
You watch in real time as she starts rebuilding. New cartilage forms beneath the shattered bridge of her nose, filling in the fracture until the bone snaps back into place.
Reverse cursed technique...?
No.
Not that.
Your eyes narrow as her broken rib shifts beneath her flesh, constructed material filling the fracture until the pressure snaps it back into place.
I remember now.
Her technique must be construct based.
She isn't healing, she's reconstructing pieces of herself. Reinforcing the damage just enough to keep her body whole.
You grit your teeth as she huffs, stretching her arms over her head nonchalantly before brushing her hair off her face. Despite the swelling of her skin, her eyes narrow, burning as they find yours.
Madness staring back at madness.
To use that much technique must take an immense amount of cursed energy.
So be it.
I'll break her until I bleed her cursed energy dry.
"You know what you are, General?" Yorozu hisses, all mirth draining from her face. "You are nothing to Sukuna. An insult."
Her jaw ticks before her lip curls up in disgust.
"And I will tear you open, piece by piece, and lay your corpse at his feet."
She plants her feet wide and throws her arms into the air, cursed energy gathering in her outstretched hands.
"Then he will see both our worth."
You slide your feet apart, bracing your stance low as her technique starts to materialize.
At first, it gathers in droplets no larger than rain, hovering midair around her like black beads of mercury. Then they start to merge, coalescing into a single growing sphere, its surface rippling like water, yet solid to your eyes.
Adrenaline takes over, flight currently winning out over fight as you take a step back, eyes trained on the growing construct, its sheen surface reflecting your warped silhouette.
Your gaze flicks subtly left, then right, assessing the distance to the nearest pillars as the distorted sphere splits in half. Each hemisphere then halves again, smaller droplets breaking off until dozens of fist sized spheres are floating behind her.
Fuck.
Your thighs tense as your eyes dart toward the western wall. More specifically, the closest pillar.
Without your cursed technique, this just came down to a game of chicken.
Your play?
Speed.
Agility.
And most of all?
Timing.
Yorozu clenches her hand into a fist and the spheres respond. Swirling faster before elongating into pointed tips and solidifying.
Laughing hysterically, eyes blown wide, she clasps her hands in front of her and points them right at you.
The spikes launch.
"Damn it...!"
You curse and throw yourself behind one of the larger standing braziers just as metal shrieks against stone, sparks flying from the empty space you occupied seconds before.
You glance up.
Where is...?
There!
Pushing fast to your feet, your lungs burn as you break out into a full on sprint for the column, keeping low, head jerking left, then right, as spikes whistle past, piercing into the far wall in a cloud of dust.
Yorozu cackles as her cursed energy signature suddenly spikes.
Damn it, she's creating more constructs.
You hiss under your breath, pressing your back against the stone, chest heaving as you wait out another flurry of strikes while trying to track her position.
Another spike slams into the column. Then another.
Stone chips scatter across the floor as dust fills your nose, your throat, your eyes.
You keep still, jaw clenched, ears trained on the sounds.
Bare feet against stone.
The surges of cursed energy.
Her fucking laugh.
"Come out, come out, little General," Yorozu taunts, cracking her knuckles.
"Don't tell me you're scared now. Where's that renowned courage of yours?"
You suck in a deep breath, filling your lungs and holding it until your heartbeat pounds in your temples. Grasping at something that's yours. Something to keep yourself level headed.
But the cursed energy still emanating from the stone, fills you, coaxing you with its dark temptation.
All you have to do is let it consume you.
You tip your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, fighting against its bloodthirsty call.
You have to end this now.
Your will is fraying by the minute, and oh, how easy it would be to just...Give in.
Give into it.
No.
You can't lose yourself.
Not now.
Closing your eyes, you force your breath down into your belly, reaching past the stone’s hunger, past the whispering, past the blood roaring in your ears, into the depths of your being.
Drawing forth that discipline.
That focus.
And use it.
Your mind answers first, preparing the body for the plan.
Slowly, the chamber assembles behind your eyelids, your brain filling in the pieces. The cracked pillars. The standing braziers. The throne. The puddle of bloody water next to the tipped over bucket. Yorozu’s position. The angle of her last volley.
She thinks I'm pinned down.
Your jaw tightens, heart pumping hard from the hits of adrenaline as you notice something key.
The gaps between each wave are getting longer.
She's slowing down...
She must be prioritizing cursed energy conservation, waiting for opportune moments instead of suppression.
You can hear her footsteps getting closer, your concentration shifting to picture the next closest pillar
Alright. Wait...
One step.
Two.
Three.
Now!
Launching yourself out from cover, you hit the ground in a dive, narrowly dodging a cluster of spikes before rolling through the momentum. Metal ricochets off stone with a clank, sparks bursting everywhere with the impacts.
Already back on your feet, your thighs burn as you run in a zigzag pattern. More attacks whistle by your ear, one managing to nick your cheek as you risk a glance back.
What the hell is she doing...?
You jerk your head forward, eyes narrowing on your target, bare feet slapping against the ground as you lengthen your strides.
Nearly there.
Then it's a straight shot to the entrance.
If I lure her outside, I can use the trees to my advantage and even out this fight.
Just as you reach the edge of cover, pain detonates through your left shoulder.
A strangled cry tears from your throat as one of the spikes pierces through the meat, bursting out the front below the collarbone in a spray of blood and torn cloth.
The hit sends you off kilter, your foot tripping over the other. You hit the ground hard, stone scraping along your hip and ribs as your momentum carries you the last few feet, leaving you half-sprawled behind the column.
Panting, you move quickly, dragging yourself out of Yorozu's line of fire with your good arm. The pain in your shoulder starts to burn, leaving you gritting your teeth through it.
Soon, the warm gush of blood follows, soaking through your yukata, leaving the cloth sticking to your skin.
Pushing yourself up, you slump against the pillar, pressing your hand down hard to the wound as you glance down.
Blood oozes steadily between your fingers.
Damn.
The spike missed your heart. Missed your lung, well maybe, considering how hard it's getting to breathe.
Yorozu's shrill laughter rings out, a manic sound that tells you she's all too pleased with herself.
"Poor little General," she cackles. "Burned through your cursed energy already? Pfft. You're a poor excuse for a sorcerer."
You clench your jaw, bearing down as you force yourself to your feet.
The world starts spinning as you lift your head, bright dots filling your vision as your muscles begin to shiver. Panting, you collapse onto your side against the pillar, blood smearing across its stone surface.
"I don't need cursed energy to beat you," you mutter. "I'll tear you apart with my bare hands if I have to."
Yorozu laughs again before her face twists into a sneer.
"Bold words for a coward bleeding out," She calls. "Let’s see if you can back them up, shall we?"
Throwing her arms up, she flexes her fingers and her cursed energy signature surges. Liquid metal starts materializing around her in little drops, rippling like balls of water before merging together into one large sphere...
Then one sphere becomes three.
Three become a dozen.
Each one elongates, morphing into spikes with piercing tips, aimed straight at the pillar.
Now she's armed.
You suck in a hiss past your teeth, resting your temple against the cool stone as you squeeze your eyes shut.
This is bad.
I'm outmatched without my cursed technique...
I can barely stay upright as it is.
And Yorozu knows it.
Your fingers curl into your injured shoulder, the pain both a blessing and a curse as it keeps you from passing out.
I have to kill her now.
Before you can even finish that thought, the temperature in the room suddenly plummets. An icy wind follows the cold snap, howling across the chamber, sucking what little warmth is left from your veins as your breath fogs.
You blink the snowflakes from your lashes, lifting your head higher as goosebumps break out across your skin. Your eyes widen as frost crackles across the stone floor past your feet, mounting in size as it crashes forward like a tsunami of jagged ice.
The ice engulfs the spikes, sheathing the metal in hoarfrost until they’re left hovering and shaking, suspended uselessly in the air. Yorozu glares, watching as they plunge to the ground, shattering into diamond dust.
Cursing in frustration, she rounds on the source, her eyes wild and bloodshot.
Uraume stands in the entryway, their posture rigid and the indifference in their features set with an edge, you’ve never seen before.
"Cease this disgrace at once, Yorozu," They command curtly. "Your outburst insults Master Sukuna’s will."
But Uraume’s words fall on deaf ears.
Yorozu’s focus is so hellbent on killing you, that she disregards their presence completely while hopping up onto the ice formation. Her chest heaves, pupils blown wide, teeth gritted in something too ugly to be called a snarl.
"Stay out of this, Uraume," she spits. "The General dies by my hand."
Uraume’s eyes narrow, the only thing breaking up their impassivity as an icy wind starts to pick up, whipping strands of hair across your face as you shield your eyes against the building storm.
"You forget your place, Yorozu," they warn. "The General’s fate belongs to Master Sukuna alone. It is not yours to decide."
Yorozu ignores them yet again as she throws her arm up, cursed energy surging down the length and concentrating into her palm.
"He can have what's left of her when I'm done," she sneers, her eyes fixating on the pillar where your slumped form remains hidden, save for your head peeking out.
"But first, I'm going to make her choke on every fucking word she dared to speak against him."
Yorozu’s cursed energy output multiplies tenfold, leaving her sweating and panting as rippling metal materializes above her palm. She grunts, pouring more into it until it starts swelling larger and larger with each rotation, elongating into a spike the size of three grown men.
It hovers in the air, it's tip sharpened to a piercing point...
Piercing, as in, stone is now obsolete.
Shit.
You shove off the pillar and break into a sprint just as Yorozu thrusts her hand toward you, fingers splayed wide.
"Die!" she screams.
The spike launches forward, propelled by both Yorozu’s cursed energy and her desperate need to witness your demise. It accelerates fast, tearing across the chamber to close in fast...
Faster than you can run.
The icy ground makes it difficult to get traction, and you get all of three steps before you slip, catching yourself on your hands.
You cry out from the sudden aggravation of your injury, panting as you scramble to push upright, only to slip once more, the bottoms of your feet numb and bleeding, leaving smears against the frost.
Teeth gritted, breath shallow, you twist to look over your shoulder, horror widening your stare as the projectile reaches the point where evasion is out of the question.
Damn it...!
You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing.
It never hits.
A flash freeze tears through the shrine; a crinkling sound filling the air as frost ensnares the projectile’s metal surface.
Freezing it solid.
The projectile hangs suspended, quivering in place as Yorozu’s cursed energy struggles to drive it forward.
Metal versus ice.
Rage versus indifference.
Devotion versus loyalty.
The world stops right then and there, burning eyes glaring into cold ones.
Your rasping breaths and the steady drip of blood from your wound are the only sounds left in the tense silence.
With a flick of Uraume’s wrist, the frozen spike shatters into a million glittering pieces, flurrying down around you like the first snow of a winters morning.
Icy flakes land on your cheek, melting into tiny droplets that trickle down your skin, cutting through the salt and blood smeared across your face.
Uraume stands amid the falling shards, hands lowering slowly to their sides as they stare down Yorozu, the faintest crease forming between their brows.
"You have been warned enough, Yorozu," Uraume states flatly, lifting their chin. "Defy Lord Sukuna’s will again, and I will see your life ended where you stand."
Yorozu’s chest heaves as she glares at Uraume, her hands clenching into fists at her sides until they shake. For a moment, it looks as though she might lash out again, blind rage overruling what little sense of self preservation she has left.
Then, with outright disgust written across her face, Yorozu forces herself back a step and spits a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the icy stone.
"Fine," she hisses, flicking her wrist dismissively. "But mark my words, Uraume. This is not over. That pathetic excuse for a sorcerer will get what is owed to her, one way or another."
Nothing changes on Uraume’s face.
But their eyes...
The look in their eyes says enough.
Yorozu huffs out a dry, bitter laugh as her gaze flicks to you, her features twisting with hatred so raw, it's almost tangible.
"Look at you," she sneers, gesturing toward your battered, panting form. "So weak. So broken. I can't fathom why Uraume wastes even a breath protecting you."
Her lip curls, blood smeared from the corner of her mouth across her cheek.
"You're a disgrace."
You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to your feet despite the crippling pain that consumes your body.
"Disgraced, wounded, it makes no difference," you rasp, flashing her a bloodied smile. "All that strength of yours, and still, it means nothing in his eyes, does it?"
Yorozu's eyes go wide, as her face goes utterly still. She takes a step forward, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.
You tense instinctively, getting ready to throw up your good arm should she swing.
From the corner of your eye, you catch the slightest twitch of Uraume’s fingers as they stand between you, watching intently.
Yorozu stops just short of them, staring coldly up at you over their shoulder, lifting her chin to try and match your height.
Her gaze drifts from your face, to the gaping hole in your shoulder, to your torn up yukata, to your busted feet, then back up again. A scowl tightening her features.
"You think you’re so strong, don’t you?" she hisses. "Look at you. I was holding back, and one little flesh wound has you ready to collapse."
She clicks her tongue, waving you off.
"Tch. Some sorcerer you are."
You hold your tongue.
Because beneath the bitter words.
The rage. The hate. All the curses you want to spew out as your hands twitch for her blood.
There's something beneath it all.
The stone.
It still pulses faintly, calling out to you, filling your head with the urge to lash out. To tear Yorozu apart. To sate its hunger for blood.
Clenching your jaw, a sharp pang tears through your wound when you force yourself to straighten, your mind fighting to silence it's call.
I can't give in to its influence.
I can't let it twist me into something I'm not.
Slowly, you lift your head to stare down at her, smiling wryly.
"Well," you murmur, "consider us equals, then."
She spits out a sound of disgust, her eyes narrowing.
"Because if it weren’t for the fact that my cursed energy is sealed, I would have beaten you..."
You pause to flash her a smug grin.
"Again."
Yorozu’s teeth clench as she takes another step forward, but Uraume moves swiftly, placing themselves between you both. Their cold eyes reflect a stare nothing short of murderous, fueled by Yorozu’s continued lack of respect for Sukuna.
"Enough," Uraume snaps. "Leave. Now."
Yorozu’s gaze darts from the white haired sorcerer to you, breath fogging in the chilly air as her chest heaves.
"I don’t understand you, Uraume," she spits. "Why do you protect the General? That thing should not even be permitted to draw the same air as Sukuna."
Uraume glances back at you for the briefest moment, their expression unchanged. But those cold pink depths flash with...something... so quickly, you think you must have imagined it by the time they look back.
"The General's life is not for you to decide the worth of," Uraume murmurs. "And until Master Sukuna decrees otherwise, you have no right to lay a hand upon what is his."
Yorozu only stares, unblinking, as a tense silence stretches between them. Finally she relents, huffing out a breathy laugh as she shakes her head, fixing you with another glare.
"Hear that, General?" she mocks. "The only reason you're still alive is by his whim alone."
She scoffs, the distasteful sound echoing across the shrine.
"Just know this...the moment Sukuna tires of this little indulgence, I will be there."
She smiles wickedly.
"And I will take great pleasure in finishing what I started today."
With one last glare of disgust in your direction, Yorozu turns away with an aggravated growl and kicks a large chunk of stone clean across the room. It smashes into the wall with a deafening crash. Then she storms through the temple doors, her footsteps echoing after her until nothing remains but silence.
You stay where you are, staring blankly at the ground.Quite frankly so dizzy, you're about to collapse onto your face.
You force yourself to blink through the fog of pain, the side of your yukata soaked through. The flesh around the wound already bruising a dark purple and swelling around the ruined muscle beneath.
Your gaze drops lower, bitter irony settling in the pit of your gut at the sight of your own blood puddling at your feet, seeping into the ice.
You suck in another shaky breath, shivering as the deep gash above your left eye begins to sting something terrible.
You try to take a single step, but your knees buckle, sending you crashing hard to the ground. Groaning, you slowly roll onto your back, panting as your eyes fall shut.
You are only vaguely aware of Uraume turning toward you, their impassive expression betraying nothing as they step closer and reach for your crumpled form.
A pale light of cursed energy concentrates around their slender fingers, before they press their palm to your shoulder.
Warmth seeps into your skin, spreading out through your flesh in a sensation that is both foreign and familiar. You close your eyes, focusing on your breathing. Slowly, the torn muscle mends as blood vessels start threading back together beneath the surface as the skin knits itself closed.
What is...?
Is Uraume healing me?
The bleeding slows, then stops entirely, leaving only the deep ache lingering in the joint and your torn, bloodstained yukata as proof it was ever there.
The cursed energy around Uraumes fingertips dissipates into wisps of light, the last traces of warmth sucked up by the frigid air.
Sighing, they let their hand fall to their side before straightening to their feet, glancing around at the ice formations, already trickling with water in what will surely take hours to melt.
Carefully, you push yourself up into a seated position, rolling your shoulder experimentally and flexing your fingers to check for deficits, happy to find none.
Okay...
Maybe the occasional tingling in your fingertips.
But nothing worth fretting over.
Huffing out a breathy laugh, you glance up with the intention of offering gratitude, only for the words to die on your tongue as your mind recalls their threat to Yorozu.
"The General’s life is not for you to decide the worth of..."
"...You have no right to lay a hand upon what is his."
Hah.
Your stomach twists into a knot, physically inundating you in that oh so bitter reminder of where you sit in this fucked up hierarchy.
My life, my very existence in this place...
I am not a person to them. Not really. Just a plaything to be kept preserved.
All for that bastard's amusement.
"Finish your duties, General."
Uraume’s command cuts through your thoughts just as you glance up, only to find they have already turned away, their soft footfalls shuffling across the ice crusted stone.
BANG.
The heavy temple doors slam shut behind them, leaving you blinking at the empty space.
And once again you're alone with your thoughts...
Alone with this niggling feeling like something has shifted.
Yorozu’s cruelty, her incessant need to tear you down and make you feel insignificant, has only fed into it.
All this time, you have felt as though you were being crushed.
Crushed by the weight of your circumstances.
By Sukuna’s curse.
By fear itself.
But with every insult she spat, every vile, degrading word she spewed, that weight seemed to shift.
Not disappear nor lessen.
But change.
Hardening you beneath it.
Making you tougher.
Stronger.
And the stone, Sukuna’s cursed energy, the thing slowly nestling itself into your heart, is no longer an anchor encumbering you.
I understand now...
It's a conduit.
A channel.
A door for something far more terrible than fear.
And you felt it open.
Felt the rush of euphoria, of unrestrained freedom, with every kick, every strike, every bloodied hit that connected with her flesh.
But that was not your strength alone.
The cursed energy coming from the stone had corrupted you. Your mind, your body, your spirit, until all that remained was this ravenous hunger for carnage. Desire for violence. For chaos.
And for the first time in months, since the day you were dragged here, you feel as though you've cracked open some tiny hole in the mystery.
The stone’s main purpose is no mere object of suppression, it's a gateway.
A gateway to cursed energy.
To your cursed energy
To Sukuna's.
Your breath hitches, as you lift a hand, brushing your fingers over the stone, it's smooth surface burning hot beneath the tips.
It finally makes sense.
All of Kenjaku’s cryptic words. His subtle manipulations. The way he looked at you whenever he spoke of Sukuna. The question that has haunted your mind for weeks.
What would be something he values most enough to sacrifice?
And then it hits you all at once, leaving you wide eyed and feeling like a fool for not putting it together sooner.
Strength.
Sukuna has not just taken you to bend you to his will.
He has given you something.
Embedded his cursed energy into your very soul through the cursed object.
Not to suppress you, no, that's a lie, a half truth at best.
The stone, the cursed object is a key.
Sukuna hasn’t just shackled you with it, he has, in some twisted, fucked up way, imbued you with his strength.
Strength that can grow. Strength that can devour you if you aren’t careful. But also strength you can learn to wield.
So why...?
What is his reasoning when he knows how much I despise him.
Your hand drifts over to your newly healed shoulder, absently massaging the muscle as your eyes flick to the ground, narrowing on the pools of blood.
Some of Yorozu’s. Some of your own. Ironically mixing together in some hilarious mockery of a unity that could never exist between the two of you.
For the first time in weeks, the corners of your mouth twitch into the faintest hint of a smile.
To all my lovelies, I bless thee with dirty makeup sex fueled with wine and horniness ( send help😭 the song southbound makes me write bad things)
Chapter three: I Never Stopped
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MASTERLIST (tumblr) | Crosspost: The Ruse on Ao3
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💥Warnings: Explicit sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Exes who pretend to hate eachother but can't live without eachother, My excuse to write shameless smut, Rough Sex, Toxic AS FUCK (no seriously), Hate Sex, light degradation, spitplay
꧁꧂ ꧁꧂꧁༺ 🩷🐾 🩷🐾🩷🐾 🩷🐾 🩷༻꧂ ꧁꧂ ꧁꧂
You have no idea what time it is or how long you've been driving. Between your dwindling emotional state, the nasty storm that turned the evening pitch as black, and the awkward silence you've been steeping in...
Well, let's just say, when Sukuna pulls your car into the driveway of your cute little cottage style home, you sigh in relief. Antsy to just get inside and into your pajamas asap. Add a bottle of wine into the mix? You might even get a couple of hours of sleep in between ugly crying.
Sukuna throws the car into park before tossing you the keys, leaning over the wheel as he narrows his eyes through the rain.
"Nice place," he murmurs, glancing over at you. "You even got that porch you always wanted."
"Mhm," you hum, quite frankly too tired for words as you glance back at Dog. Sukuna follows your gaze, reaching out to ruffle the sleepy pup’s head.
"Go unlock the door," he says, gesturing with a jerk of his head. "I’ll carry him."
You meet his eyes, momentarily lost in those red depths as he offers you that damning smirk before arching his slit brow.
It takes until your heart starts beating funny before you tear yourself away with a huff, opening the door only to be immediately smacked in the face by a gust of chilly rain that leaves you squinting.
Ducking your head, you make a break for it through the downpour, leaping up the three steps just to get under the shelter of the porch.
The motion sensor lights up as you hover at the door, numb fingers shaking from the cold as you fiddle with your key ring, mumbling curses under your breath until you manage to find the one with a winking cat.
The moment you shove the door open, Sukuna is right behind you, holding the whimpering, soaked pup in his arms as you both step onto the welcome mat in the entryway.
Instantly, a rush of warm air hits you, carrying with it the scent of vanilla from your plug in diffuser and the lavender candle you forgot to blow out this morning. You flick on the hall light, stepping out of your shoes briskly while your brain mentally apologizes profusely to every firefighter on the planet.
"Take off your boots and bring him this way," you mumble, waving him in as he kicks the door shut behind him just as you disappear around the corner.
You feel like an exhausted chicken with its head cut off as you scurry about, raiding the hall closet and then your bedroom for towels, blankets, a couple of pillows. Pretty much anything soft and fluffy that you think will make an excellent dog bed before you dump it onto the living room rug.
All the while, Sukuna says nothing. He just stands there with Dog in his arms, dripping rainwater onto your hardwood floor while his eyes slowly take in your place.
Your house is a simple open design with a cottage core aesthetic you’ve always wanted, making it feel warm and cozy. Bright walls, light wood, a large kitchen that opens right into the living room, soft neutral furniture, oversized windows, and a big brick fireplace that takes up most of the far wall.
To the left are mounted shelves stacked with books, some you’ve actually read, others you bought on impulse because of the flashy cover, promising your best friend you’ll give Haunting Adeline a try eventually.
Succulents and cactuses are tucked into every corner and centrepiece, mostly because they’re the only plants hardy enough to survive your so called "green thumb."
The corner of Sukuna’s mouth twitches once as he takes in the bare walls...
Not one photo, anywhere.
"Hmph," he grunts under his breath, just as you wave him over, patting the bed with one hand while holding a cone with the other.
"You’re not putting that on him," Sukuna grumbles as he takes a knee to set the drowsy dog down.
"Yes, I am."
"No, you’re not, it looks dumb."
You scoff, shaking your head as Dog glances nervously between the both of you squared up in a glare off.
"I’m the professional here, Ryōmen," you spit as he snorts, running a hand through his wet hair.
"Yeah? And he's mine," he retorts, gesturing to the pup staring up at him all doe eyed. "Besides, how the hell is he going to lick stitches on the side of his face."
"He has paws you idiot," you snap, pointing at said toe beans equipped with the weapons in question before securing the cone around Dog's neck.
Sukuna just cocks an eyebrow, his chest rumbling as he laughs.
"Oh yeah, real professional. You talk to all your clients like that, Doc?" he teases, still grinning as you shoot him a dirty look.
"Feel free to call that cab now," you mumble, patting Dog's bum as he lays his chin down in the blankets with a huff.
Grunting, you push yourself to your feet and wander into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab your most expensive bottle of pinot gris, because why the hell not?
Sukuna saunters over, staring down at his phone as he pulls out a stool to take a seat at the island, typing something while you're busy rummaging through the drawers for a corkscrew.
"Looks like the closest cab is forty eight minutes," Sukuna muses, glancing up just in time to watch you awkwardly jam the screw into the top of the cork.
You muscle it out with a pop! before taking a healthy swig straight up, basking in the sour sweetness as it travels down your throat to settle in the pit of your belly.
"Really," you murmur, setting the bottle down onto the granite with a clack. "I find that hard to believe."
"It's because of the storm." Sukuna gives a half assed shrug before sliding his phone across the counter to you. "Don't believe me? Then look yourself."
You take another swig, snatching the phone up to bring the screen close to your face, squinting as you scroll.
Hmmm.... MK Taxi : 62 minutes. HT Taxi : 58 minutes. Even Uber is 48 minutes.
You just click your tongue in annoyance, sliding the phone back as he leans on his elbows, smirking up at you.
"What, you think I’d make that shit up? Don’t flatter yourself."
Sukuna chuckles as your gaze drifts over his soaked unzipped hoodie, the damp white tee sticking to his pecs like a second skin as the dark lines of his tattoos show through underneath.
When did he...? Ugh nevermind.
You sigh and thrust out your hand. "Give me your clothes."
He tilts his head slightly, that devilish smirk only growing more smug as he leans back to cross his arms.
"Look at you being all bold."
"Piss off, it’s so I can put them in the dryer. You’re ruining my floor." You roll your eyes, gesturing for him to hand it over. "So don’t flatter yourself."
Sukuna just grunts low in one of those I don’t know if I’m annoyed or amused sounds as he relents, leaving you to enjoy the warm, fuzzy feeling of throwing his own jab right back in his face.
Rolling it into a ball, he hands it over before reaching for his shirt, peeling it off his skin. And gods help you, your mouth nearly drops. He's had more ink done as you suspected, broad black lines down his chest and abs that almost look tribal or something?
But to your surprise? The bastard pierced his nipples too.
Lifting the shirt over his head, you feel a rush of heat to your cheeks that you're quick to blame on the wine as you stand there gawking with a front row view.
Gods, you hate how good he still looks after six years. Thick through the shoulders with a broad chest you used to love falling asleep on. Heavy biceps and forearms you loved having wrapped around you. Thick waist and toned abs.
But the moment your eyes lift, your breath hitches. Dangling from his neck is a thin metal chain with a plain silver wedding ring.
"Why...?" You huff out a dry laugh as he hands you the shirt next before running a hand through his hair.
"You kept it? Why?"
He sniffs once, wiping a bead of water from his jaw before glancing down. His brow furrows slightly, jaw ticking as he looks back up at you.
"Why wouldn’t I?"
A puzzled look flashes across your features as you reach out without thinking, rolling the silver band between your fingers, your throat suddenly tight.
"Well, most divorced people would have sold it or chucked it."
You hum idly and let it fall back against his chest as he stares at you with that unreadable expression, save for the faint tension in his jaw.
"Do you still have yours?" He finally asks flatly.
You swallow thickly before taking a swig of wine, hoping the alcohol will untangle the knots in your gut. You turn away, shaking the clothes for emphasis.
"I’ll go put this in the dryer," you mumble, already making your escape.
"What the hell am I supposed to wear in the meantime woman?" You hear him call after you as you wander down the hall, opening the laundry room door and throwing his stuff into the dryer with a wet splat.
"Give me a sec," you call back, cranking the timer to thirty five minutes.
Huffing out a brisk exhale, you disappear into your bedroom, closing the door gently behind you before leaning your back against it, tipping your head as you close your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart.
Dammit, just breathe woman and stop being stupid. He’s going to be gone after tonight...
Out of my life, forever this time.
You’ll make damn sure of it.
Sighing, you press a hand to your stomach as it knots all over again, your stupid brain torturing you with a fresh flashback of your boyfriend on that fucking pool table.
You grit your teeth, massaging your temple as your gaze happens to drift over to your nightstand.
Slowly, you wander over, your fingers rooting through a small bowl filled with tangled necklaces and earrings until they find a silver wedding band. You press your lips together, brushing the pad of your thumb along its smooth surface.
Why did I...?
"Ugh."
You rip your hand away, dismissing the thought as you suck in an uneasy breath.
It doesn't matter anymore.
Sniffling, you wipe the wetness from your sore, red eyes as you set the bottle down, stripping out of your damp scrubs and underwear before tossing them into the laundry basket.
Butt ass naked, your skin erupts into goosebumps as you quickly towel off your wet hair and yank open your drawers, rummaging through your clothes until you settle on a pair of loose sweats and a hoodie obnoxiously branded with your class name across the front.
Big Pittie Energy.
Damn right.
Puffing out your chest, you decide you're going to channel the shit out of that right now by not bothering with a bra. Sure, morale is low but at least your girls can breathe.
Glancing around the room, you frown slightly before grabbing another towel and plucking the oversized grey fleece housecoat off the back of the bedroom door.
Grabbing the neck of the wine bottle, you inhale through your nose, filling your lungs before exhaling with a whoosh. Throwing open your bedroom door, you meander back into the kitchen.
Sukuna is still lounging at the island, elbows braced on the counter as he types on his phone, glancing up the moment you appear around the corner. His body jerks and he drops his phone with a clack, his hand snapping up to catch the towel flying at his face before the housecoat follows after it.
His brow furrows, lips downturning as he glances over it, then glares up at you.
"I'm not fucking wearing this."
"Yes, you are," you say flatly, feeling déjà vu all of a sudden. "Give me your sweats too, I’ll throw them in the dryer with the rest."
Sukuna just stares at you for a long second before his blank expression finally cracks, clicking his tongue as he stands and hooks his thumbs into his waistband.
"Bossy little thing tonight, aren't you?"
"Just shut it and give'em here."
He snorts, stripping the sweats down his hips like he has all the time in the world. You grit your teeth as your stupid eyes betray you, lingering on the very obvious bulge in the centre of his tight black boxers.
Smirking, he arches a brow as you tear your gaze away and stretch your hand out again.
"Don’t say a word."
His grin only widens as he underhand tosses the sweats over.
"Didn’t have to."
He starts towelling his hair dry, looking far too pleased with himself as you disappear toward the laundry room once more. Your cheeks are burning by the time you shove his sweats into the dryer, giving yourself a light slap out of spite.
Fuck woman stop being stupid. Remember the penis isn't the problem, it’s the bastard attached to it.
"Pffft." You sigh heavily, combing your fingers through your hair to brush some strands off your face as you wander back. The moment you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks, slapping a hand over your mouth to stifle the giggles.
Sukuna pays you no heed as he secures the tie around his waist, leaving it open enough that you can still see the centre of his chest as he bends over to raid your fridge.
Oh my god.
This is almost as good as the time you stuck a face mask on him while he was sleeping, only to end up barricading yourself in the bathroom while laughing your ass off when he woke up.
A rush of heat floods up your neck as your core aches when you suddenly remember, oh so vividly, how that prank ended...
You, getting fucked against the shower wall while Sukuna made damn sure you choked on that laughter with breathless moans.
Your fingers curl tighter around the wine bottle as he opens up a plastic container to sniff it, shrugging once before he starts opening a bunch of drawers to scrounge up a fork.
You scoff, watching him carry on nonchalantly as he takes a seat and helps himself to the pad thai that was supposed to be your lunch for tomorrow. You take another small swig of wine before joining him, leaning your hip against the counter as he shovels in a mouthful without even looking up.
"Really?" you murmur, gesturing to him. "Please I insist, make yourself right at home."
Sukuna swallows another mouthful before glancing up, his eyes immediately dropping to the front of your hoodie. He huffs out a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth.
"Big pittie energy, huh?"
You narrow your eyes before following his down, snorting despite yourself at the upside down lettering.
"Apparently it’s tradition for each class to come up with a nickname," you mutter, glancing up. "And this is what we came up with."
Your eyes immediately drop back to the noodles as you lean down to rest your chin in your palm, your shoulders sagging as another wave of exhaustion settles over you along with the wine buzz.
"You should eat something." Sukuna says, sliding it across to you.
"Nah," you reply, waving him off as you slide it back. "Wine is my main food group tonight, so you might as well just finish it."
"Like I said," he muses, curling his fork through the noodles to gather another hefty bite. "You're quite the bossy little brat tonight."
You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless as you watch him devour it. Surprisingly, just lounging here, watching Sukuna in your fleece housecoat that's way too small, stuffing his face, feels kinda...comfortable?
You let out a breathy laugh as he pushes the empty container aside, using his thumb to brush peanut sauce from the corner of his mouth before sucking it clean.
"You really haven't changed in the slightest."
He runs his tongue along his back molar before picking a bit of scallion out of his teeth with his pinky nail.
"What do you mean?"
You shake your head, still smiling softly at him.
"You still have that ginormous appetite." You slide the bottle in front of you, rolling it idly beneath your palms. "Always bloody eating, it's no wonder our grocery bills were always so astronomical."
Sukuna just smirks as his eyes drift idly over your face, lingering long enough to make your stomach flip. By the time they return to yours, something at the corners has almost softened.
"You’ve changed."
"Oh yeah?" you ask, huffing awkwardly as you straighten. "Let me guess... A little older? More cynical?"
You laugh once more under your breath. Sukuna doesn’t. He only tilts his head, brushing his knuckle along his jaw as he looks you over once more with that lazy, hooded stare.
"No," he murmurs. "More beautiful."
You go rigid, the smile disappearing as you shake your head slowly.
"Don't do this, Ryōmen," you sigh wearily, crossing your arms.
The corner of his mouth curls as he reaches for the wine, taking a slow swig while looking far too smug beneath your glare.
"Do what?"
Your nostrils flare as you grit your teeth.
"You know exactly what you're doing," you grumble, reaching over to snatch up the empty container. Turning away briskly towards the sink, you flip the tap up, running it under the water just as more tears trail down your cheeks.
Gods, this whole night has just turned into one giant shitshow.
Your emotions are all over the place. Your thoughts tangled between past and present. Your feelings at war. Your body feels ambivalent between tired and restless and angry and humiliated.
Your throat suddenly tightens, trying to choke off a sob. Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury your face in your hand, fighting your damnedest to keep your breathing steady.
Suddenly your body is enveloped in a searing kind of warmth against your back. Sukuna wraps an arm around your midriff while he shuts off the tap with the other, dropping his brow to your shoulder.
You go stiff in his arms, hand falling away as you stare blankly at the tile, blinking the wetness from your lashes. He simply tightens his hold, and before you realize it, your body is already relaxing back into something familiar you never vowed to have again.
You hate the way you love it. The feel of him. The familiarity of his warmth. The easy rise and fall of his chest as he turns his head slightly, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.
"Enough," Sukuna growls. "Don’t waste another tear on that pathetic fucker."
Your breath hitches as he lifts his head, murmuring into your hair.
"He was never going to be enough for you."
Your skin suddenly flushes hot as irritation twists your guts raw. Throwing your elbow back into his ribs, you twist out of his hold, glaring up at him.
"Good enough for me...?" you hiss. "And who the fuck do you think you are to make that call?"
Sukuna straightens, drawing in a slow breath as he lifts his chin, ticking his jaw.
"The only man who ever was."
You just scoff, shaking your head before turning away.
"You’re such an arrogant prick!"
You storm down the hallway toward the laundry, ripping open the dryer door hard enough that it bangs into the wall, nearly taking a chunk out. You thrust your hand in, grabbing his clothes that are still damp but warm at least.
Good enough.
You yank them out in a crumpled ball and stomp back into the kitchen, hurling the whole mess right at his face. His body jerks on reflex as they smack into his chest, but you’re already pointing at the front door.
"You need to leave," you hiss. "Wait on the porch, in the rain, I don’t give a fuck just go."
Sukuna doesn't move, he just stands there with his clothes balled in his fist, glaring at you, those damning red eyes burning with a look he has no fucking right to give you.
Not now. Not anymore.
Your nostrils flare as you square up to meet that look with your own deathly one.
"I mean it."
"No, you don’t."
You tilt your head back to blink up at the ceiling, laughing bitterly as you run both hands through your hair, fingers twitching at the roots to rip it out from the rage boiling in your chest.
"Oh. My. Fucking. God," you spit as your eyes widen with a crazed edge. "You arrogant fucking bastard! Do you ever listen to anyone but yourself!?"
"You're one to talk you fucking hypocrite," he hisses, taking a step closer to gesture at you. "Constantly lying to yourself."
You scoff, throwing your hands up in disbelief. "Don't make this about me you manipulative piece of shit!"
He takes another step closer, but you don't back down, your expression twisted into something vicious as he uses his height to glower down at you.
"Then say it," he snaps. "Right here. Right now. Tell me you haven’t thought about us once."
"There is no us!" You rasp, shaking your head as you cross your arms tighter over your chest. "Don’t you get it? Our marriage fell apart because we were fucking toxic, Ryōmen! We were awful to each other. We hurt each other. That’s all we ever did, because neither one of us had the common sense to sit down and have a fucking conversation."
Sukuna just huffs out a wry laugh, smirking despite how clearly pissed off he is.
"A conversation," he repeats slowly. "Is that all you wanted?"
"Yes!" you spit bitterly. "But it was like screaming at the fucking apartment wall with you, to the point the mold carried on more than you ever did."
His jaw ticks as he exhales through his nose.
"You never wanted to talk."
"Oh, fuck you."
He clicks his tongue in disgust, running a hand through his hair, leaving the pink ends spiking up every which way.
"No," he snaps. "You didn't. You wanted me to act like a little bitch and chase you around the apartment while you slammed doors and expected me to read your fucking mind."
You scoff, rolling your eyes while something ugly yet so fucking raw twists in your chest.
"Yeah? And you just wanted me to sit there like a good little bitch and take whatever scraps you felt like giving me." You flick your hand dismissively, gritting your teeth. "If you even came home that is."
His eyes narrow.
"Scraps?"
"Yes, scraps." You take a step closer, too furious to care that he has a couple of feet on you.
"You’d come home pissed off, barely say two words to me, then act confused when I didn’t want you touching me."
"Tch. Funny. That's not how I remember it," he mocks, giving you a nasty little smirk. "I remember you'd always be begging for my cock by the end of the night."
You suck in a breath as every one of your muscles tenses, leaving you genuinely fighting the urge to clock him.
"See?" you hiss, throwing your arms up exasperatedly. "This! This right there! That’s the fucking problem. You never listened! You just bulldozed over everything because you thought if you fucked me hard enough, I’d stop being mad."
"Fine," he hisses. "You want a conversation?"
You glare up at him, chest heaving as he cocks an eyebrow.
"Then let's have a real one." He hovers over you, toe to toe. "Do you love that little boyfriend of yours?"
You go rigid. For half a second, you just blink up at him, legitimately caught off guard before your mouth snaps shut and you look away.
Sukuna huffs out a dry laugh.
"C'mon," he murmurs. "You wanted to talk. So talk."
"I don't owe you a goddamn thing," you hiss, glaring back at him. "Now get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops."
Sukuna’s jaw ticks as he lifts his chin.
"Fine," he growls. "Tell me you love him, and I will."
Your nostrils flare, heart pounding as you stare up at him. At that cold, walled off expression. At those hooded eyes searching yours, the tension in his shoulders.
For a second, it feels like the whole world stalls, leaving you numb. The pouring rain feels distant. The random booms of thunder. Even Dog's contented little huffs from his bed as he stretches his legs before barking in his sleep.
It takes you inhaling deeply to break through the silence as you hug yourself tighter, lifting your chin while forcing a smile.
"Alright," you murmur flatly. "I love him."
The corner of Sukuna's mouth twitches as he tilts his head, giving you that look when he means to strip your words bare.
"Bullshit," he says. "Look at you, still refusing to be honest with yourself."
Your brow furrows as you level him with a glare.
"Excuse me?" you hiss. "Fuck you, I answered your question, now piss off and leave."
He throws his head back and laughs. A real raucous sound too before he smirks down at you.
"Come now, woman," he murmurs. "You and I both know you don’t mean one fucking word of it."
You scoff, shaking your head. "You're a fucking lunatic."
"Am I?"
He leans down into your space before you can move back, his hand fisting in your hair to hold you in place.
"I know you."
You yelp at the sudden jostle, teeth gritting as your fingers dig into his wrist.
"Ryōmen...!"
"I know you don’t love him," he growls, cutting you off. "He’s too boring and doesn't know the real you like I do."
You huff out a bitter laugh, tugging weakly against his grip.
"That was a long time ago, I’m not the same..."
"Tch. Bullshit." he hisses, tightening his grip enough your scalp stings. "I know the little prick doesn’t know the way you run your hand through your hair when you’re pissed, or how you can’t stand a man who won’t stand toe to toe with you."
His hooded gaze bores into yours shamelessly now.
"And I know he doesn’t know how you chew your bottom lip when you read. Or the way your nose does that stupid little wrinkle thing when you laugh."
You swallow, pushing harder against his chest as your lower belly twists into knots.
"Stop, it was..."
"And I know he doesn't fuck you right." He growls, flexing his fingers as they shake. "Doesn’t know how rough you like it. Doesn’t know what it takes to make you shut that pretty mouth and take it."
You curl your nails into his skin, squeezing your eyes shut as you grit your teeth.
"Enough Ryōmen..." you hiss. "We're over."
Sukuna rests his forehead against yours as his voice drops low, turning rough around the edges.
"I never stopped thinking about you." he growls, his breath warm against your lips. "Not once. And I know you feel the same."
Slowly, you open your eyes, lifting them to his.
And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, breathing hard through flared nostrils as every little memory comes rushing back. The good, the bad, and every single ugly, reminding you of what you once were, leaving your heart aching so painfully.
"We aren’t good together," you finally breathe. "We’ll destroy each other again."
Sukuna smirks, his gaze dropping to your lips.
"Then fucking destroy me."
"Mmph...?!"
The sound tears up your throat as his mouth crashes against yours. You press your palms to his chest as his hand slides around to cup the back of your head, fingers threading wide through your hair.
A rush of heat flushes your skin as he groans into you, his tongue pushing past your lips to find yours. The faint metallic hint of his stud mixes with the lingering spice of pad thai as he rolls his tongue against yours, leaving a pathetic little shiver racing up your spine.
Your eyes drift shut while your fingers curl into the taut muscle of his pecs. Your heart races as the heat of his skin envelops you, his arm wrapping around your lower back to pull you flush against his front.
The kiss turns wet, sloppy, and rough, leaving you both panting, saliva slicking your chins as his tongue lays claim to your mouth.
Yet, despite the head rush, despite the way your body melts against his, chasing all that old familiarity, there’s still that teeny tiny rational woman buried in the back of your brain...
And she's livid.
You bite down. Hard. Sukuna jerks back with a low hiss, a bead of blood dribbling down his chin as he runs the tip of his tongue over the cut. Despite the pain, he lets out a breathy laugh and tilts his head while those hooded eyes drift over your flushed features, savoring your breathlessness and your fiery glare.
"There's my vicious woman."
He goes to lean in again, but you slap him.
His head jerks to the side as he laughs breathlessly once more, running his tongue along his gumline, eyes flicking back to you with a look so hungry you have to grit your teeth. Gods punish you for it, but your heart is racing, body primed like a live wire as your pussy throbs.
"No more bullshit Ryōmen," you hiss, lifting your head high as he brushes his thumb over the blood on his chin. "Did you have anything to do with what happened tonight? The dog? My boyfriend? Any of it?!"
"You mean your ex-boyfriend?" he murmurs indifferently.
You exhale a huff of irritation, dropping your arms to your sides as you stiffen in his hold.
"Stop patronizing me and answer the question."
He inhales briskly through his nose, smugness settling over his features as he lifts his chin.
"Fine," he growls. "But honesty for honesty. Tell me the truth first."
Your eyes narrow.
"Do you love him?"
You just hold his stare, grinding your teeth until your jaw aches, until finally, you click your tongue once.
"No," you murmur curtly. "I don't."
Something shifts in his eyes right then and there, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as his hand finds the side of your face once more.
"No," he answers flatly, leaning in. "I had nothing to do with that pathetic prick, and I really did just look for the closest vet."
A gaspy kind of laugh slips out before you can stop it as relief floods your veins. Really, it's all you can do as you avert your gaze, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.
"Look at me," Sukuna murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek.
And gods help you, you comply.
And the moment your eyes meet, his lips are capturing yours. Another rush of heat floods your system as your hands find his pecs once more, sliding up his skin to grip onto his nape as you rise up on your tippy toes, deepening the kiss.
Sukuna groans as his hand slips down to grip your jaw, canting his head to devour you completely. The wet heat of his tongue glides against yours, the bump of his stud brushing the surface as a shameless moan slips out of your throat.
Both of you are breathing hard through your noses as he slowly walks you back, until your ass bumps into the edge of the island.
Your mind is slowly going blank, all your senses succumbing until all you can taste is him. All you can feel is his heat and the ripple of muscle as he shifts. All you can hear are his groans and how his chest heaves. See the flush to his cheeks as his eyes drift closed.
Yet, that nasty little feeling called guilt twists your gut sick, pulling you back from the brink just enough before you lose yourself entirely in him. You break the kiss with a gasp, arching back as he chases you, but you turn away, dropping your face into your hands.
"Hmph...!" You grunt as he suddenly slams you face first against the counter. Gritting your teeth, you push back up but he meets you halfway, planting his hands on either side of you as he presses his pelvis into your ass, breathing hard.
"Ryōmen...!" you gasp as he wraps a hand around your throat to tip your head back against his shoulder, dipping in to run his tongue along the juncture of your throat to the shell of your ear.
Your breath hitches as your body melts against his, squeezing your eyes shut as your pussy aches like a second heartbeat. You try to turn your head away but he grips you in place.
"No," he growls. "I've indulged you enough, I won't let you run away from me again."
He nips the sensitive skin of your throat as you gasp, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as a shiver races up your spine. His other hand slips under your sweater, gliding up your belly to find your breast.
He groans against your skin before turning your head, capturing your lips once more.
And just like that, the familiar taste of him, the feel of his warmth, that incessant roughness that drives his motions when he wants you so fucking badly.
That's all it takes to crumble the last of your walls.
Every. Single. One.
Your hand slips behind to grip his nape, pulling him closer as your tongue pushes into his mouth, finding his once more until you’re devouring each other, panting between moans until you’re both breathless.
You start grinding your ass against the hard bulge in his boxers, earning a deep groan as he breaks the kiss, dropping his brow to your shoulder while he thrusts against you, driving your hip bones into the counter’s edge.
He lets your throat go, his hand drifting down to hook into your hip while the other keeps playing with your breast, teasing your nipple, twisting and massaging the soft flesh until your head lolls forward.
Your heart races, your inner walls throbbing as you feel yourself growing wetter. Panting, Sukuna suddenly flips you around, his features flushed as he smirks down at you, capturing your mouth once more before lifting your bum onto the counter and kneeing your legs apart.
"Ryōmen...w-wait..." you mumble against his lips before he breaks away, leaving only inches between your heated gazes. "W-we shouldn’t..."
"Shut your fucking mouth," he growls, biting your bottom lip as he pulls your pelvis flush to his. "I’ve been hard for you since the car, woman. Since you decided to rub your ass against me like a needy little brat, and I’m not letting you go now."
He dips his head once more, biting and sucking along the groove of your throat, leaving you gasping between groans.
Fuck, your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest as your eyes drift closed, losing yourself in the feel of him. You tilt your head, giving him more of you as your hand slips between the folds of his robe, your palm finding the scorching heat of his skin while you explore the familiar broad muscle beneath.
"Ryōmen, please..." you breathe, gazing up at him as you rake your nails down his pec, making him hiss as he sucks in a breath. "Make it hurt. I don’t want to remember anything but the feeling of you."
He fists a handful of hair at the side of your head as he flashes you that devilish grin. And just like that, you’re back to six years ago, lost in that red stare and the way it burns as it drinks in your flushed features, your hooded gaze, your lips still wet with his saliva.
"Look at you," he pants, hiking your sweater up over your head and throwing it aside. "Still so fucking gorgeous."
His chest heaves as his eyes devour the sight of your breasts. He presses his palm into your sternum to push you flat against the cool granite counter, hovering over you before running his tongue down until he reaches your nipple, teasing it with slow, wet circles until it hardens.
You tip your head back as your eyes drift closed with a groan, scraping your nails against his scalp as you curl your fingers into his hair, arching into his mouth.
He laughs breathlessly, dragging his tongue across your chest to find your other nipple, teasing it with the metal stud before biting down, making you jerk from the sting.
"You taste so fucking good," he growls against your skin as he starts biting and sucking your other nipple. "I’ve been thinking about this for six years. Every fucking night."
Your pulse is pounding, concentrating between your thighs and leaving you dizzy. Your lungs are so fucking tight and your body so tense, you feel like you're about to snap in half.
Sukuna lifts his head to smirk up at you, sliding his hands down your waist, your muscles tensing beneath his fingertips as your whole body aches for just...more. You bite your knuckle, lifting your hips as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your sweats.
Your eyes flutter open to his heated gaze, your skin flushing hot as you let out a breathy needy little laugh.
"What are you waiting for?" you pant. "Do it."
"Impatient little thing aren't you?"
He just laughs low, a rough sound that rumbles in his chest as he straightens. Still, you can see the tension in his jaw as he rips your sweats down, letting them fall to the floor before kicking them aside to spread your legs wide, tilting his head to get a better view.
His breath hitches as he drinks in the sight of your wet pussy, gripping the tops of your thighs as his thumbs massage your inner skin. You run your hands through your hair before shuffling closer to the edge, reaching up to grip behind his nape with one hand as the other fumbles with the knot of the housecoat.
You lean in to tease his earlobe, using your tongue to toy with the stud before sucking it as you yank the knot free, slipping the robe off his shoulder as he shrugs out of the other arm, exposing his broad, muscular chest to your starving eyes.
You glide your mouth lower, nipping at the skin of his throat, feeling his pulse pounding beneath your lips as he throws his head back with a guttural groan.
His fingers hook deeper into your thighs as you scrape your nails down his biceps and over the ridges of his forearms, before gliding them over to squeeze the heavy muscle of his pecs.
Sukuna grunts low as you dip down, taking one of his nipples into your mouth. You use your tongue to toy with the metal stud, circling the sensitive nub until it hardens before you bite down.
A shameless hiss tears through his gritted teeth as his body goes rigid, and fuck, the sound is music to your ears.
His skin tastes hot and salty as the faint musky scent of his sweat fills your nostrils, the familiarity of it driving you wild. Your hands drift lower over his firm lats before finding the thick meat of his waist, pulling him impossibly closer into the wet heat of your mouth.
Fuck, your body is buzzing like a live wire, every nerve firing as your cunt clenches painfully, already so fucking slick as it screams to be filled by him.
"Fuck..." he mutters, glancing down past your head as you tease his other nipple, his cock twitching as he sees how wet your getting. "Tch, look at that. I missed how much your pussy begs for my cock."
"Hnhg…!" you grunt as his hand shoots up to grip your jaw unexpectedly, wrenching your head up to stare at the mess smeared on your chin. He tilts his head, leaning in until his breath is hot on your lips.
You wet your own, closing your eyes as you arch up to kiss him. But the bastard only smirks as he pulls away, shoving you flat again.
Your eyes fly open as you huff out a laugh, smiling up at him as you stretch your arms high overhead. Goosebumps erupt across your breasts, your nipples perking up hard as you make a show of arching beneath him.
"You miss my pussy, do you?" you rasp, gliding your foot slowly down the ridges of his stomach, teasing him until your toes reach the elastic band of his boxers. "Tch. What’s this, Ryōmen? Don’t tell me six years made you sentimental."
Your toes slip lower, pressing down against his throbbing cock. He’s hard as hell. You smile wider, massaging the thick length through the cotton, the heat of his skin searing against your foot as you feel it twitch and jump.
Sukuna's jaw ticks as he curls his nails into your thighs. He narrows his eyes on you before gripping your ankle hard as he grits his teeth.
"Sentimental?" he hisses, lifting your foot near his face before biting down hard above your ankle. You wince, the stinging throb shooting up your leg and leaving your lower belly clenching.
"Woman, I’m about two seconds from eating you off this fucking island."
He starts running his tongue up the side of your calf, sucking and biting at your skin, leaving his favorite kind of marks. All the while, he keeps that heated, feral glare trained onto your face.
Watching every little shift. The way you writhe and jerk. The blood rising up to flush your cheeks red.
"Mhm, if only you could see what you look like right now," he growls. "My feisty little woman, in heat like a fucking bitch."
"Oh my god, stop talking." You groan, bucking your hips upward, meeting him halfway when he leans down near your navel, laughing against your skin.
His large, rough hands find your hips as he starts kissing and sucking down the length of your stomach, sending jolts of electricity through your nerves until you feel like you're burning alive in your own body.
Heat. Aching. Throbbing. Knots of tension in your womb. All of it turns your rational brain to mush until the only thought left is how badly you want his cock inside you.
You suck in a breath, as another wave of tension rips through your lower belly, threading your fingers into his hair as he kneels, throwing your ankles over his shoulders.
You lift your head, parting your lips only for the words to die in a choked gasp as his tongue finds your clit.
The back of your head thunks against the granite, another moan rumbling up your throat as he flicks the round edge of his piercing against the little bud.
The tingling sensations leave the muscles in your belly drawing tight, your thighs squeezing.
"Fuck," he rasps, as one of his hands slides down to your labia, spreading you even wider. "You're fucking dripping for me."
He groans low before diving back down, sucking and teasing your clit, those jolty little pulses building on each other as your pussy walls squeeze around nothing.
You start grinding your cunt against his tongue, trying to chase the sensation. But it's not enough. You need more. So much fucking more.
Sukuna hums low, his lips and chin smeared in your slick and saliva as he glances up at your wrecked face.
"Look at that," he murmurs. "Not so bratty now, are you?"
You don't even give a shit anymore about having the last word as you pant, opening your eyes to stare at him through a bleary, hooded gaze.
"Ryōmen..." you breathe. "Please."
Sukuna cocks a brow, nipping the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as you buck your hips up.
"Mhm?" he hums, grinning devilishly now. "I didn’t quite catch that."
"I need more," you breathe, squeezing and playing with your own tits for any kind of stimulation as the knots of tension become unbearable. "I need you...Please, Ryōmen."
A wicked look flashes in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of your breasts heaving, fingers pinching your own nipples, hips jerking and thighs twitching.
Fuck, it’s a delicious meal.
Sukuna dips his head again, but this time he plunges his tongue deep inside you, twisting and rolling it against your walls.
You groan from the fullness, biting your finger as another wave of heat flushes your skin. You lock your ankles behind his head, rocking your hips up as he grips your thighs.
Thick, wet beads of your arousal and his spit trail down your ass, dribbling onto the counter, warm air puffing through his nostrils against your folds as he eats you out like a starving beast.
You whimper, sucking in short, rapid huffs as your lower belly clenches so fucking tightly. The walls of your cunt contract greedily around his tongue, building a heavy, throbbing pressure that keeps twisting that knot of tension in your womb until you're teetering precariously on the edge of your release.
Just a little more...
The air is riddled with your scent, your whole wide world narrowed down to the delicious little sensations ruining your body and the bastard between your thighs doing it.
But then he suddenly withdraws his tongue, leaving you crying out in frustration as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes when the coil slowly starts to lose its tension. Your pissed off nerves keep firing anyway, leaving your pussy aching and so fucking empty you want to rip your own hair out.
Sukuna only laughs at your reaction as he shoves your legs off his shoulders and stands, spreading them wider as he braces one forearm near your head to hover over you.
But before you can even think to curse the bastard out or even gasp for air, he plunges two fingers knuckle deep inside you.
"Oh my god...!" you choke out, your back arching hard off the counter as he curls them.
"Fuck, woman," he growls. "You’re going to break my fingers."
He smirks down at you as he pumps them in and out, filling the air with wet, sloppy squelches before bending down to kiss you. You melt into his mouth, tasting the tang of yourself on his lips as he swallows every single one of your moans.
It doesn’t take long before that beautiful coil of tension winds so tight it feels like it might break your spine. Then Sukuna pumps his fingers in as deep as they can go, curls them hard against your G-spot, and it finally snaps.
You break the kiss with a long guttural groan, wrapping your arms around him to cling onto him for dear life as wave after wave of your orgasm overrides your entire system. It leaves you lightheaded as you close your eyes, your toes curling with the electric shocks surging through every nerve ending, tensing every muscle.
Sukuna’s breath hitches, his chest heaving against yours as your walls contract rhythmically, squeezing the shit out of his fingers, squirting your hot juices all over his hand.
You have no idea how long you cling to him, riding the peak of your high while he pumps his fingers lazily, milking every single inch of your orgasm out of you before he finally withdraws.
You collapse back, panting, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you look up at him.
"Fuck..." you breathe. "You’re still dangerous with that tongue."
He laughs, dipping his head into the crook of your throat to breathe you in. His voice is guttural, but you can hear the tension in it.
"Don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now?" he murmurs, brushing his lips along your skin.
"Depends," you murmur, turning your head to look at him. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"
He grits his teeth, shaking his head. "You mouthy fucking bitch."
You just smile up at him as he shifts himself up, hooking his thumbs into the band of his boxers as he shoves them down. Instantly, your breath hitches as his cock springs free, the tip already dark red and leaking beads of precum while he gives it a couple of pumps.
Fuck...
I forgot how big he is.
But your greedy pussy is already starting to flutter as your pulse races. Sukuna grips your forearm and yanks you up abruptly, smirking devilishly as he sees your eyes widen when they stare down at the monstrous thing between his legs.
"Hmph," he grunts, tilting his head as he wraps his hand around your throat. "What’s wrong? You were so confident a second ago." He leans in to nip your earlobe, breathing into the shell of your ear. "My needy little whore."
You swallow, forcing a smile despite the throbbing ache driving you mad as you reach down to wrap your hand around his shaft. He sucks in a brisk inhale through his nose, his cheeks flushing red as you give him a few slow pumps.
Fuck, he’s so hot, heavy, and hard beneath your palm. Twitching as you feel the veins throbbing under your touch, you tilt your head as he lifts his chin, his eyes turning hooded.
"Go on, woman," he growls, tightening his grip around your throat. "You want my cock? Then spit on it."
He grins wickedly as he lets his hand fall, watching as you gather some saliva in your mouth, your hand pumping him harder until his hips jerk. You stop to aim the head of his cock up as you lean over, spitting a fat glob onto the tip, smearing it with your thumb before working it down his length.
Sukuna’s chest is heaving, his teeth gritted as he grips your hips painfully. You can already feel the dull throb of bruising under his fingertips as the wet squelch of your hand working him fills the air, leaving his body stiffening, muscles flexing rigidly while his heated glare burns into your face.
"Oof...!" You shudder when he suddenly slams you flat, wrapping your legs around his waist with one hand while the other grips the base of his cock, aligning it with your soaked entrance.
"Ryōmen, I-I..."
"Oh f-fuck...!" A choked sound tears out of your throat as he slams his cock all the way to the hilt inside you, dropping his brow above your collarbone with a long, guttural groan.
All you can manage is a few pathetic whimpers as your pussy burns around his girth. Gods, it feels like being torn in half, leaving you panting with your eyes squeezed shut.
You drag your nails down his back, drawing bloody welts as the thick muscle shifts beneath.
"You feel so fucking good," he growls, throwing his hips forward in one hard thrust. "Fuck, I missed you."
Grunting through gritted teeth, Sukuna braces himself over you on one forearm as he slowly pulls out, only to slam right back in, burying himself balls deep with each thrust.
"Ah shit...!" you cry out against the overwhelming pressure building through your belly as he grinds his cockhead into your cervix, until you’re squirming, torn between the need to escape the intensity and the desperate craving to take him deeper.
"There's my woman," he breathes, playing with your nipple between his fingers.
You arch into his touch before locking your ankles at his lower back, rocking your hips up to meet his; chasing the friction until it mingles with the pressure, grinding your clit against his pubic bone until all three sensations start to mask the pain.
Sukuna's hand snaps up to grip your jaw, tilting your head up while using his thumb to tug down on your lower lip, until you open for him.
"You want me to make you forget, do you?" he murmurs as you flick your tongue out, swirling it around the tip of his thumb before sucking it into your mouth.
He hums low, slipping it deeper into your wet heat, pressing on your tongue as you roll around the thick digit. He suddenly pinches your nipple hard, the jolt of it making you gasp as he delves deeper to hit the back of your throat, making you gag.
He watches intently as you cough until your eyes water, before withdrawing his finger to lean in, spitting into your mouth.
"Go on, swallow it," he groans, jerking his hips harder to drive his cock into your cervix again, making you gasp. "I’m going to fill every hole you have until there’s nothing left in you but me."
Your cunt clenches down, making him suck in a hiss, sparking a fresh wave of heat through your veins that makes your toes curl. You don't hesitate, you press your lips together, swallowing the salty taste of him.
It feels degrading, filthy, but oh so fucking good, making you feel like the sexiest woman alive as he stares down at you.
Like he wants to eat you alive.
"Good girl," he rasps, straightening upright before yanking your ass toward the edge of the island, gripping your hips hard as he smirks down at you.
"Now shut that pretty mouth and fucking take it."
He doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath nor even think before he starts pounding into you.
"Ah… ahhh… fuck, that’s good!" you cry out, gripping the edge of the counter as your skin rubs back and forth against the granite. Soon, all you can hear is the wet slap of his balls against your ass while Sukuna tips his head back with a guttural moan, the thick cords of muscle standing out as he screws his eyes shut.
Sweat beads along both your brows as you fall into a beautifully volatile rhythm, demanding everything from one another until you’re both breathless. You tip your own head back, breasts jiggling as he ruts into your leaking pussy.
The friction is fucking divine, your walls molding perfectly to his cock as he fucks you harder, making you jerk every time he slams into your cervix. But you can feel it, the coil of tension in your womb tightening around every throbbing, veiny inch of him.
Another wave of heat flushes your skin burning hot, your muscles aching in your lower back as you buck your hips against him.
"Fuck, Ryōmen..." you moan, gritting your teeth as you arch up, seeking more rough friction on your clit. "Don’t stop... your cock feels so fucking good."
Sukuna sucks in a deep breath, leveling his heated stare on your face. Panting, the corner of his mouth curls up as he presses his hand down on your lower belly, feeling the heavy ridge of his dick moving as he fucks you raw.
"Yeah?" he breathes, gliding his hand lower as he tilts his head, watching his cock pump in and out of your creamy hole. "You missed being stuffed full with my cock?"
Your breath hitches as his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive little bundle of nerves relentlessly until your thighs squeeze his waist on reflex.
"Ah fuck...!" Sukuna growls as your cunt squeezes his length. You can feel him throbbing inside you as the blunt edge of his nails curl into your hips.
Pressure. Heat. Pants and groans. Tingling and throbbing. Tension.
Your mind goes utterly blank to everything but the sensations as your walls start to flutter, your eyes drifting open to fall right on the man who was once your everything.
Any my god, the sight alone has you nearly coming all over his cock right there.
Sukuna’s jaw is slack as he tilts his head down, eyes shut tight, broad chest heaving. Beads of sweat trail down his tattoos, his biceps bulging as he holds you in place, lower abs flexing with each rut of his hips.
Fuck, it’s a sight you missed. Hell who are you kidding?
You missed him...
The only man who ever truly made you feel alive.
Your heart hammers against your ribs, nearly bursting from your chest as Sukuna lifts his head, those hooded red eyes finding yours. You suddenly suck in a breath as you feel him swelling, growing even harder as he drops his weight down, hovering his face inches from yours.
"You on anything?" he breathes, dipping in to run his tongue along the underside of your jaw.
"W-what...?" you pant, threading your fingers through his hair before raking your nails down his scalp.
"Don’t play stupid," he growls, biting and sucking the shell of your ear. "Are you on anything, or am I buying you Plan B in the morning?"
Your stomach flips, your walls aching around him as he lowers his forehead against yours.
"Because I’m not pulling out," he rasps. "Not after six fucking years of thinking about filling you up until you can’t walk."
You huff out a laugh, squeezing your calves and thighs to press your ankles into his back, preventing him from thrusting as you smirk.
"What if I say no, hm?" you breathe, gripping his jaw as you run the tip of your tongue along his cut lip until he winces. "What if I tell you to pull out?"
Sukuna’s pupils are so blown it’s like he’s high off coke, his jaw ticking from the tension, and yet he gives you the sexiest, slyest smile that leaves your heart beating funky all over again.
"Then I’d call you a liar," he breathes, brushing his lips along your sweaty temple. "I know you."
His hand slides up to grip your waist, using his thumb to knead slow circles into your flesh.
"I know how much you love being stuffed full of my cum."
"Still so damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?" you murmur, brushing your nose along his jaw, breathing him in until that warm, musky scent fills your lungs.
"If you tell me to pull out," he breathes, dipping his head to rest his brow against your temple. "I will."
Your throat works around a lump, swallowing as your lower belly throbs, feeling every hot inch of him twitching and throbbing inside you.
"No," you murmur, brushing your palms down the hard ridges of muscle in his shoulders. "Cum inside me."
Sukuna sucks in a brisk hiss, lifting his head to stare down at you, drinking in that smug little smile on your flushed face. His jaw ticks, the corners of his eyes twitching once before he's on you again, capturing your lips with a filthy groan.
You melt against him, wrapping your arms around his nape as your thighs loosen around his waist.
And that’s it. That’s all he needs.
Whatever restraint he had left snaps as every muscle in his body tenses with the effort of pounding your cunt mercilessly.
His thrusts turn erratic, jostling your body as your hot, sweaty chests rub against one another, the sheer amounts of heat coming off this man is enough to make you feel like you're boiling alive.
It doesn’t take long before that coil in your womb starts winding tight again, every wet squelch of his cock pumping inside you making the bottoms of your ass cheeks glisten with your leaking juices.
Sukuna snaps his head up, breaking the kiss as he grits his teeth, screwing his eyes shut.
"Fuck..." he rasps. "I'm close."
You clench down on him, focusing on nothing but the feeling of the pressure, the friction, the pain, until all of it twists together like a live wire in your cunt.
"Shit...!" you pant, your whole body locking up as you cling onto him. "I-I’m going to cum..."
You bite down above his collarbone just as that coil snaps. Your thighs squeeze around him, your orgasm seizing every muscle in your abdomen as every nerve in your pussy fires at once, flushing you hot while wave after wave of rhythmic contractions has you screaming into his skin.
"Fuck, woman," Sukuna groans, his hips stuttering as his own core flexes taut. "You’re going to make me cum."
A guttural sound rumbles up his throat as he loses himself in the way your cunt squeezes around him, throwing his hips forward in one last hard thrust, burying himself as deep as he can go before dropping his entire weight on top of you.
You gasp as his balls throb against your skin, his cock unloading thick ropes of cum deep inside you. You bury your face in his neck, shuddering as the hot spurts coat over your cervix and stuff your walls full.
His hips jerk through the last pulses of his orgasm, lazy strokes dragging in and out of you as his seed dribbles down your ass in thick beads, adding to the mess you’ve made of one another.
Sukuna’s chest heaves against yours. Truthfully, you can barely get a breath in, left panting while the heavy bastard crushes you beneath him. You try to suck in some air, feeling your heartbeat pounding wildly against his as you both ride out the last of your highs.
"Ugh...Ryōmen!" You choke out, squirming beneath him until you wince, losing out on the benefits of the dopamine rush, leaving you sore as hell. "I c-can't breath you ape!"
"Hm?" he hums, lifting his head to stare at the side of your face.
You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your throat tightening the second you fall into those red depths. His features are soft in a way you've never seen before, and frankly, it scares the shit out of you.
Scares you because that open wound in your heart, the one you thought after spending hours in therapy had healed, has just been torn wide the fuck open.
Hah. What do the kids call it? Dickmatized?
Yeah. Sure. That's what you'll go with. It's easier than admitting the other ugly, nasty little thing that has your therapist pulling their hair out over all the work you're about to undo.
You. Still. Fucking. Love. HIM.
Sukuna reaches his hand up, threading his fingers through your sweaty hair, his thumb stroking your cheek as his eyes drift over your face. You swallow thickly, throwing him a pointed look downward before raising your brows.
"I still can't breathe very well..." you remind him gently.
He follows your gaze, to where your bodies are pressed flush, smirking as he lifts his eyes back to you.
"You’re so soft and comfortable, I didn’t even notice," he murmurs, his voice still rough from sex.
"What do you mean by soft, asshole?" you snap, glaring at him as he shifts onto his forearm, giving your lungs some relief.
"Sensitive," he taunts, clicking his tongue once. "Looks like your mouth and pussy are finally in agreement."
You just scoff as he laughs, shifting himself up halfway before gripping under your thighs and hoisting you against him. You wrap your legs around his waist as his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your ass, leaving you very aware of the fact that his semi hard cock is still stuffed inside you.
"Where’s your bedroom?"
Your brow furrows as you huff out a laugh, shaking your head with a puzzled look.
"What?" he breathes, resting his brow against your temple. "Don’t tell me you thought I was done with you?"
I FOUND YOU. author of my favorite fic rn. literally just squeeled in joy to see u updated it just now. ive been lowkey live blogging my reading of malevolent mercy over the past couple weeks and my descent into obsession w/true form sukuna. thank you for your writing 🫶🫶🫶
OH MY GOSH helloooooo! I love your comments they always crack me up (and make me feel better that I'm not the only delusional, horny weirdo obsessed with a sexy mass murderer with four arms and a big dick😭🤣)
Honestly though thank you so much for the love🫶, I was really struggling lately with some offhand comments I saw on tiktok so your support means more to me than you'll ever know!🥰
...I think you're going to like the newest chapter😜
You can feel the blood draining from your face, your heart racing a mile a minute as you fight the twitch in your fingers to smack yourself to see if you're dreaming.
But then your eyes meet his.
And there it is.
That damn smirk. The same one that once convinced you against your better judgement to get on the back of a motorcycle.
No. You didn’t fall asleep at your desk again. You aren’t dreaming.
He’s really here.
Six years older, and somehow even more handsome.
Begrudgingly, painfully, infuriatingly handsome.
His face has filled out, though his jaw is still just as sharp.
He’s broader too, if that’s even possible, given he was already a monster of a man the last time you saw him after the divorce. The last time you felt his arm around you in a half assed goodbye on the steps of the courthouse.
Looks like he ditched the eyebrow piercing, but kept the studs in his ears.
Slowly, your hands curl into fists at your side as your eyes narrow into a glare.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" you hiss. "What the hell..."
You're already halfway committed to chewing him out when your gaze drops to his arms.
Held against his chest with a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, is a skinny black Labrador retriever, trembling so hard you can see it from across the room.
Blood streaks the dog’s muzzle and mats the fur along one side of his face. He whimpers then cries, head jerking at every sound, dark eyes blown wide as his ears pin flat against his skull.
The shock and rage is instantly subdued by adrenaline as your brain switches on. You waste no more time and cross the reception, slowly approaching the spooked animal and ignoring the giant one holding him.
"What happened?" you murmur, keeping your voice low as you offer a few soothing sounds, carefully placing a hand against the dog’s side. His fur is soaking wet beneath your palm, you can feel him tensing as you run it along every protruding rib.
Poor thing is so underweight.
Immediately, your gaze snaps up to Sukuna.
"Why is he so underfed?"
Sukuna only shrugs, but the smirk on his face fades into something flatter, his eyes dropping to the shivering lab in his arms.
"I don't know. Found him like this."
You force your attention back to the dog, focusing on your primary survey despite the distraction of your ex-husband’s eyes watching you far too intently.
"When?" You ask, lifting your gaze to find his already waiting.
"Ten minutes ago."
"Where?"
"Alley off Mercer."
He jerks his head in said direction.
You press your lips into a thin line, narrowing your eyes as you finish the last of your rapid assessment.
Breathing looks fast, but regular, expected finding given the stress. No obvious fractures. No wounds I can see beyond the face. No smell of purulence. Eyes intact, thank goodness.
You bring your stethoscope up and press it gently to the dog’s chest, closing your eyes as you listen.
Heart rate is very fast, but regular. That's also an expected finding given the situation.
With a huff, you move behind the reception desk and grab the emergency intake clipboard, barely looking at Sukuna as you flip to a blank form.
And damn it all, you catch a whiff of him.
That familiar scent of his soap and musk beneath the underlying pungent smell of wet fur, your stomach twisting into a knot as you trace your pen down the checklist.
"Was there another dog present?"
"Think so."
Your eyes flick up. "What do you mean you think so?"
His eyes narrow at your tone.
"I mean I didn’t see it," he snaps, adjusting the dog gently and earning a small whine. "But there was barking, growling, and what sounded like a fight."
He glances down at the shaking pup.
"Found this one curled up and bleeding behind a dumpster alone."
You suck in a controlled breath through your nose, smoothing your hand down the frightened dog’s flank.
"It's okay," you murmur softly. "I know you're scared sweetheart. I know. We’re going to help you."
You glance back up to Sukuna, clutching the clipboard to your chest as you fall back on every professionalism class you’d ever endured to keep your face neutral.
"Were you bitten at all?"
"No," he murmurs, cocking a brow as that devilish smile of his makes an appearance. "Why? Concerned about me?"
Your ethics 301 professor would have dropped dead right now if he heard the scoff that came out of your mouth.
"No you buffoon." You hiss, flipping the clipboard around to tap at a word with your pen. "It's for rabies...His vaccination status is unknown, so we need to be cautious."
"Buffoon...?" Sukuna snorts, tilting his head. "That's a new one."
"Really? Because I can think of ten more if you don’t like it."
Sukuna laughs and you hate it. Hate that the familiar, deep sound is affecting your heart rate more than you'll ever admit.
Clicking your tongue, you shake your head and gesture down the hall.
"Follow me. Let’s get my patient into the treatment room."
Sukuna cooperates without another word. The heavy thump of his boots reverberating on the vinyl flooring as you lead him past the darkened exam rooms towards the surgical suite at the end of the hall.
"You haven’t changed a bit," you mutter over your shoulder. "Still an insufferable ass."
"Careful, little Doc," he drawls behind you. "I might leave a bad review and ruin your rating."
You scoff, pushing through the treatment room door with your hip.
"That would require you to actually care and put in effort," you retort, rolling your eyes before reaching for the switch on the wall.
"Which you and I both know isn’t exactly your nature."
The fluorescent bulbs flicker once before flooding the room in a painfully bright light.
Behind you, Sukuna says nothing. Not a laugh. Not a scoff. Not one of those low, mocking little hums he used to make when you said something that got under his skin.
Just silence.
Against your better judgment, you glance back, your chest tightening.
His expression has gone unreadable, walled off behind that place you could never reach. Rain still drips from his hair, trailing down his temple to the groove of his throat, soaking into his zip up hoodie.
The dog shivers against his chest, letting out another shrill cry. And just like that, whatever satisfaction you might have felt at the low blow leaves you feeling anything but.
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you glance away, rushing over to the middle of the suite.
"Put him on the exam table," you order, softer this time, patting the surface. "Carefully."
Sukuna crosses the resin flooring, leaving wet footprints behind as he approaches the edge.
The dog whimpers as he lowers him down, all long legs, panic, and confusion. He tries to scramble the second his paws touch the cold metal, nails skittering against the surface, but Sukuna is already there, holding him down on his side with a hand, the other petting down his back.
You turn your back on both of them, before your face can betray you.
Remember Dr. Aubrey's words...
Professionalism is a skill, not a calling.
Not panic. Not unresolved trauma. Not whatever the hell your heart is doing because your first love is standing in your surgical suite, soaked to the bone, murmuring low nonsense to a stray like he isn’t the same man who once broke your heart so badly you had to rebuild the entire organ from scratch.
Nope.
Professionalism.
You go to work, opening and closing drawers, rummaging through cupboards to gather all your supplies.
Behind you, the dog lets out another heartbreaking cry.
"I know," Sukuna mutters. "Quit squirming, she’s helping you."
Your hand stills against the cupboard handle, just for a second before you yank it open, grabbing a package of sterile gloves. Turning back around, you roll your metal tray next to the exam table and set up your sterile field.
Gloves on.
Instruments laid out.
Breath steady.
Professional.
You can do professional.
You have spent years being professional.
All the while you can hear Sukuna calming the crying dog, and you hate the way your heart clenches. Sucking in a deep breath, you focus and reach for the meloxicam vial.
You fall into the motions, double checking the dosage before drawing it up, watching the medication rise in the syringe. You tap out the air bubble with your nail, then prime the needle just enough for a bead of liquid to gather at the tip.
Easy part done.
Across the table, the dog lets out another broken little cry, shaking like a leaf as he tries to tuck his head away. Too weak to fight properly and too scared to understand what's going on.
"Easy, you attention seeking brat," Sukuna mutters, one large hand gliding along the dog’s ribs, the other still pinning him down at the shoulder.
Your eyes flick up, narrowing into a glare.
"Really? Attention seeking?"
"What?" he murmurs low, not looking at you. "He is."
"He’s injured."
"He’s dramatic."
"He’s scared."
"He can be both."
You just scoff, because honestly, what is the point of going back and forth with him? Three years of marriage, six years post divorce, and Ryōmen Sukuna is still, somehow, the most insufferable smartass you've ever met.
So instead of dignifying that with a response, you shift your concentration back to the job at hand, running your fingers carefully along the dog's hind leg until you find the landmark you need.
"All right, Ryōmen," you breathe. "Hold him steady."
His eyes flick up. Past the syringe. Past the tight look of concentration on your face. Right to your mouth as the corner of his own curls up into a smirk.
"Say that again."
"Hold him steady."
Your fingers still for half a second, before you pinch up what little muscle you can find on his skinny thigh, keeping your eyes glued to the injection site as you dart the needle in at ninety degrees.
"Not that," he murmurs as you press down on the plunger, releasing the tissue and withdrawing the needle in the same smooth motion.
"What, then?" You huff out a sigh, capping the needle before dropping it into the sharps container.
Now comes the hard part.
"My name," Sukuna says quietly, as you reach for the clippers and start shaving the hair away from the wound.
For one long awkward second, the only sound in the room is the low buzz of the trimmers, the rain battering against the windows, and the dog’s soft whines.
Finishing up, you finally look up at him, completely deadpan.
"Ryōmen."
No inflection. Zero warmth. You ain't giving him shit, just his name, flat as a discharge summary.
His smirk twitches like he's trying not to laugh as you drop your gaze, brushing your knuckles lightly over the dog’s damp shoulder.
"There," you coo, reaching for your irrigation. "See? You’re doing okay, sweetheart."
You can feel Sukuna’s eyes on you as you work, inspecting the area more thoroughly.
The wound looks worse now that you can actually see it, several punctures scattered along the side of the dog’s muzzle and cheek, clean edged but deep, the surrounding skin already swelling as they ooze blood.
You lean closer, angling the light.
"Definitely bite wounds," you murmur.
Sukuna grunts, leaning in for a better look. Too close, you realize a second later, his face only inches away when he glances at you.
"From another dog?"
"Most likely." You adjust your grip on the lab’s head, careful to avoid putting pressure on the worst of it. "The puncture pattern fits."
The dog lets out a little whimper as you palpate the jaw for bony tenderness.
"Easy," he mutters. "Quit acting like she’s killing you."
You shoot him a look before reassessing, slower this time, thumb braced under the mandible to feel for any give where there shouldn’t be.
"So you said you found him in an alley?"
"Yeah."
You lift your gaze, leaning back just enough to put a little more space between you.
"And you just..." You gesture vaguely around the room. "Brought him here?"
His eyes narrow slightly, jaw ticking.
"That a problem?"
"No," you snap, turning back to your tray. "But really, why here?"
"Looked up the nearest vet. You happened to be it."
You hum, unconvinced.
"Is that so? And you just happened to be conveniently in the area?"
Sukuna huffs out a dry laugh.
"What? Don’t flatter yourself," he nods in the direction of the street. "I live just off Mercer."
Your hand freezes, fingers hovering over your tray.
Mercer huh? That's ten minutes from here.
"The next closest clinic is out in the county," Sukuna adds. "You were closer."
You just hum once more.
That makes sense, I guess.
There’s no way he...?
No.
If this were intentional, you would have crossed paths with him before now...
Right?
You’ve been here two and a half years already. Surely you would have seen him. At the gas station or the grocery store, maybe even some random stoplight on your way home.
Another soft cry draws your attention back down, and the thought drifts away as you stroke the dog’s neck.
"I know, baby," you whisper. "Almost done with the worst part."
Sukuna’s eyes flick up at that.
You pretend not to notice, keeping your own lowered as you draw up the local anaesthetic and administer it around the wound. The pup whimpers, but only a little this time, his trembling body gradually sinking into the towel beneath him as the medication starts to take effect.
Next, you get your suture kit ready.
All the while, Sukuna’s hand remains on the dog’s shoulder, his thumb moving in slow, absent strokes through the matted black fur.
Goddammit, you hate that you notice. Hate that it does something to you. Hate that you recognize the scar below his knuckle and know exactly where it came from, when he sliced it open while working on his bike.
Hate that you remember laughing together as you chased him around the apartment because he insisted on using super glue on it.
But what you hate most of all?
Some stupid, needy, self-destructive part of you still remembers the feel of those hands on you.
Hands sliding over your hips in the dark. Hands gripping your thighs on the back of his bike. Hands fisting into your hair after a fight, pulling you in to kiss you like that counted as an apology.
Your jaw tightens, stomach fluttering.
Focus, woman!
With a slow inhale, your hands go to work, fingers quickly finding their rhythm in smooth, controlled motions.
Needle through skin. Pull. Loop. Tighten. Cut excess.
Again.
You’ve closed worse wounds half asleep on hour eighteen of a surgical rotation, with a preceptor breathing down your neck and a caffeine headache threatening to split your skull open.
This is nothing.
Still, you keep your breathing even and your eyes on the wound, refusing to acknowledge the weight of Sukuna’s stare tracking every minuscule motion of your hands.
He’s quiet now, which is somehow more irritating than when he’s running his mouth, his large chest leaned over the exam table as he keeps the dog steady with his weight.
The pup barely moves beneath him anymore, too exhausted to do much beyond tremble and occasionally let out a soft, pitiful huff.
Poor thing.
"There we go," you murmur, tying off another knot. "Almost done, sweet baby."
Sukuna grunts, petting the dog's head, "You hear that you big baby. Almost over."
You click your tongue, shaking your head.
"You’re insufferable."
Sukuna only grins, flashing the sharp tips of his canines.
Good. Great. Perfect.
You don’t need him talking. You just need to remember exactly what he is...
The most emotionally constipated bastard you’ve ever had the misfortune of marrying.
Formerly marrying.
Divorcing.
Gods, whatever!
You don’t have the mental capacity to conjugate your failed marriage right now.
Fifteen minutes pass and you're already cutting the excess from your last suture, dumping the bloodied tools onto the tray with a clatter before leaning in to inspect your handiwork.
Intact. Even. A pretty damn good job given the circumstances.
The dog’s eyes finally drift shut as the last of his adrenaline dump wanes, exhaustion taking its place as he huffs out a long sigh.
"There," you murmur, smiling softly. "All done, sweetheart."
Content with your work, you start cleaning up, still feeling Sukuna’s eyes on you the entire time. He says nothing at first. Just watches as you gather the used gauze and toss the bloody scraps into the bin, going through the motions of breaking down your sterile field.
The silence stretches, finding that awkward place between companionable and unbearable, leaving you antsy in the middle of it.
Finally he straightens up, flashing you that sly smile of his.
"Nice job," he murmurs.
You don’t look up as you drop the last of the garbage into the waste bin, peeling off your gloves to toss them after it.
"I know," you declare proudly.
He just cocks a brow as you shrug, enjoying the moment to bask in your own awesomeness.
"This is nothing compared to what I had to do in my surgical residency."
Sukuna laughs, the low sound rumbling through his chest as he tilts his head, giving you that look.
That fucking look. The one that once melted you into a puddle at his feet.
"Look at you." He murmurs, in a tone he lost the right to use on you. "I finally get to call you Doctor."
Your hand stills around the packet of disinfectant wipes. Stomach fluttering as you lift your gaze to find his waiting for you. A rush of unwelcome emotions hit you all at once as you lose yourself in that hooded stare.
Heat flushes up your neck as you tear your gaze away.
"Don’t make it weird," you mumble, wiping down the tray, then counter. "I still have antibiotics to draw up."
Sukuna snorts, running a hand through his damp hair, slicking it off his brow.
"I didn’t say anything weird, you're assuming."
"You never think you do."
"I think you’re sensitive."
"I think you’re annoying."
"Yeah," he murmurs. "You always did."
You laugh despite yourself, flashing him a smile over your shoulder before you can think better of it.
"Take a hint and self reflect then."
"What is this?" He clicks his tongue. "You’re not very professional, are you doc?"
You huff out a dry laugh and wave him off.
"Add it to your google review."
Sukuna chuckles before wandering over to the sink, grabbing a handful of paper towel to dry his hair as you turn back to the counter and reach for the antibiotic vial and a fresh syringe.
"Speaking of," you mention idly, more to yourself than him, "I’ll file the billing through the Samaritan fund."
The room suddenly goes quiet as Sukuna stills, but you’re not paying attention; too engrossed in your safety checks before reconstituting the antibiotic.
"The what...?"
"The Samaritan fund," you repeat, rolling the vial back and forth on the counter until the med is clear before drawing it up.
"It’s for strays, surrendered animals, hardship cases, that kind of thing. Donation based...Ok, mostly me. But it covers emergency care when there’s no owner to bill."
"No."
You glance over your shoulder, needle primed in hand.
"Excuse me? What do you mean no?"
Sukuna shrugs casually, tossing the damp paper towel into the bin before wandering back to the exam table, patting the sleeping pup affectionately.
"I’ll pay for it."
"That’s not necessary."
He shoots you that unimpressed glare, then crosses his arms.
"I didn’t ask if it was necessary." He snaps, watching you administer the antibiotic, the dog too sleepy to care about the poke.
"No, but I’m telling you it isn’t." You cap the needle and set it aside, turning fully now, leaning your hip against the counter.
"He isn’t your dog."
Sukuna glances down at the snoring ball of skin and bones, giving him another light pat before glancing back up.
"Still, I brought him in," he mentions idly. "So I’ll pay for it."
"That's surprisingly...really sweet of you," you tease, arching a brow.
He tilts his head, brushing his knuckle along his jaw.
"Careful. You’ll hurt yourself giving me a compliment."
"I said sweet. Not tolerable" You straighten off the counter, flashing him a smile. "You're still annoying."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
Huffing out a laugh, you return back to your patient, checking his gums again and running your fingers along his ribs. The bite wounds are taken care of, but infection is always a risk. Add the fact he's a malnourished stray? Guaranteed.
Sighing, your gaze drifts toward the window where the storm continues raging on, the glass vibrating beneath the force of the wind and pelting rain.
"We have a slight problem," you utter, dragging a hand down your tired face, "we need to figure out how to monitor him tonight."
Sukuna looks up. "Monitor him?"
"Yeah." You gesture to the pup. "He’s underweight, stressed, freshly sutured, and I don’t know his vaccination history or whether he has any underlying issues. I don’t have the overnight staff and if I put him back on the street tonight, he's as good as dead."
The second the words leave your mouth, the implication hits.
Sighing, you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.
Your dinner reservation.
Your boyfriend.
The little black dress hanging on the back of your bedroom door, cute enough to be worn for any occasion and stretchy enough you can eat your weight in garlic bread.
...The garlic bread you had been thinking about since three in the afternoon...
You glance up at the clock on the wall, 6:30.
Shit.
I’ll have to cancel. He’ll understand, he always does. I’ll make it up to him this weekend with all-you-can-eat sushi or something.
You open your eyes and exhale heavily, shoulders sagging.
"Well," you groan, already thinking about the coffee pot in the staff lounge, "looks like I’m staying here tonight."
Sukuna leans his hip against the exam table, his brow furrowing.
"You’re going to stay here all night?"
"Looks that way."
"Alone?"
You throw your hands up with a shrug. "I don’t really have a choice, it's the responsible thing to do."
Sukuna hums low, staring at you with a walled off expression as you reach for your phone, already halfway through drafting the apology text in your head.
"I’ll take him."
You freeze, fingers resting on the edge of the screen. For a second, you just stare at him, certain you misheard.
"You'll take him? Seriously?"
Sukuna’s expression flattens instantly. "Don’t say it like that."
"No, I mean..." You blink, then glance down at the dog, then back at him. "Really?"
He just shrugs a shoulder casually.
"Sure." He replies, dropping his gaze back to the snoozing pup. "But you have to tell me what I need to do."
"Oh," you breathe, your features lighting up instantly as you reach for a blank piece of paper. "Of course. Yeah, I can do that."
Resting your elbows on the counter, you start jotting down the instructions.
"Antibiotics twice a day. Pain meds with food. Keep him quiet, somewhere warm, preferably in one room, so he’s not wandering around or trying to climb stairs. No bathing. No scratching the sutures. I’ll send him with a cone..."
In the midst of your rambling, you don’t even notice Sukuna moving around the table. Not until the hairs on your nape stand on end as his warmth presses against your back.
He braces one hand on the counter and leans over your shoulder.
"...and keep the cone on him, no matter how dumb you think it looks," he finishes reading aloud.
You whip around, tipping your head back while he smirks down at you.
"Did you really need to write that?"
You hold your ground, leaning your bum against the counter as you cross your arms, meeting his amusement with as much levelheadedness as you can muster.
"I’m just being thorough," you counter with a shrug. "I like to cover all my bases."
Sukuna huffs out a laugh, glancing down at the note.
"Yeah," he mutters. "That sounds like you."
"Don’t act like you know me," you retort, reverting back on the old defence mechanism of shutting this down before it gets too dangerous.
Sukuna’s gaze dips to your lips, then lifts again.
"I knew you pretty damn well."
"Exactly, past tense."
His mouth twitches as he tilts his head.
"Sure. Go ahead and tell yourself that."
You ignore him, focusing instead on proofreading the instructions. Scribbling the pen back and forth to underline, keep the cone on at all times.
"I remember you saying you always wanted one," he mentions idly. "But that shitty apartment complex was pet-free."
Your hand stills, leaving you blinking down at your own handwriting.
Antibiotics twice daily. Pain meds with food. Warm quiet room.
The words blur at the edges as something old and unexpectedly tender pulls at your chest.
Slowly, a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself.
"Yeah," you breathe, letting out a quiet laugh. "I remember."
And you do.
God, you remember it too well.
That awful apartment with the water stain across the ceiling that looked suspiciously like mold, and a radiator that only worked half the time.
You'd be sprawled across the couch, back hurting from where the middle cushion permanently dipped in, resting your head in his lap with your laptop balanced on your stomach, scrolling through adoption pages when you were supposed to be studying.
Squealing every five minutes over the pictures, while he called every dog ugly just to get a rise out of you.
Hah.
But your favorite memory of him was when he showed up three days later, with his jacket zipped up all the way to his chin, and a wriggling lump squirming beneath.
He really did try to make me happy in his own way.
You glance back up at him, unable to help yourself, and poke him in the chest.
"I also remember a certain someone saying, ‘Who gives a shit?’ before showing up with a golden retriever puppy hidden in their jacket."
Sukuna snorts as you laugh.
"We had him for a whopping three days before my parents became the proud owners after the neighbours reported us."
"Probably for the best, he pissed on your notes."
"He was just a baby! He didn't know any better."
"He chewed through my boot laces."
"How many times did I tell you to put them on the shoe rack?"
"He bit my ear."
"You were wrestling with him! You wholeheartedly deserved it."
You both start laughing as you shake your head, and for one crazy moment, it feels like the two of you are back in that terrible apartment, broke and exhausted and stupidly in love, lying on the floor while playing with a smuggled in puppy.
But like everything that was once your relationship, that warmth fades from the memory, leaving only the bitter resentment beneath it.
Your throat suddenly tightens as you drop your gaze to your feet, pressing your lips into a thin line.
"You know," Sukuna murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher at the edges. "I cared a lot more than you give me credit for."
You’re hit with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his, softening your features as you try to get a read on the blankness in his expression.
But there is only that hooded stare speaking a thousand words you can’t hear. The tension in his body you can’t read. That one guarded part of him, you can't touch.
Your hand moves before you can stop it. Before common sense, pride, and six years of therapy could keep you from reaching out to entwine your fingers in his.
"I know." You whisper, squeezing.
For a moment, he doesn’t move. He just stares at your joined fingers, the corner of his eye giving the faintest twitch before his gaze lifts back to yours.
It feels so surreal, the roughness of his calluses and the warmth of his palm is so familiar, so comforting, that it makes your heart ache. His thumb finds your fourth finger, circling over the place where the ring you once proudly showed off used to sit.
You swallow thickly as your pulse starts to race, good sense shoving emotion aside as your stomach drops, snapping you out of the past’s trance.
Inhaling briskly, you jerk your hand away to retreat to the other side of the room, yanking open a random drawer like you have any fucking idea what you’re looking for.
Gauze? Tape? A muzzle? Your sanity?
Anything to give your hands something to do.
Anything to keep from looking at him.
Behind you, Sukuna says nothing, just stares at your back.
"So," you clear your throat, forcing your voice into something lighter. "What are you going to name him?"
Sukuna only grunts low, flexing the hand you’d just been holding before crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.
"Dog."
"Dog?" You snort, glancing over your shoulder, cocking a brow. "That’s a subspecies, Ryōmen. Not a name."
Sukuna shrugs, clearly bored. "He doesn’t care."
You shoot him a look, shaking your head. "You don’t know that, dogs are very intuitive."
Sukuna glances over to the pup in question, still half-asleep on the exam table.
"Dog," he calls. "Come here."
The lab cracks a lid open, and the moment his sleepy gaze lands on Sukuna? His tail starts going, thumping weakly against the metal.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"See?" Sukuna smirks back at you, smug as all hell as he gestures with his chin. "He doesn’t give a shit."
You huff out another laugh and turn back to the counter, opening the medication drawer.
"I’m not surprised," you murmur, grabbing a bottle of antibiotics and an oral syringe. "You were always like that, blunt and right to the point."
"Yeah?" His voice drops low. "Isn’t that what you loved about me?"
Your hand stills for half a second before you sigh softly, dumping the medication into a paper bag before folding the top down, pressing the crease flat with your thumb.
"Mhm." You hum, keeping your eyes lowered, shoulders stiff with tension as you try to ignore the weight of his stare on your back.
"It was certainly the first thing I noticed about you," you mutter, smoothing your thumb over the folded edge again. "No subtlety. No finesse. Just someone completely sure of himself, someone who knew exactly what he wanted."
You close your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nose as you hear him hum in amusement behind you. The low sound drifts across the quiet space, and before you can stop yourself, you glance back.
Your breath hitches as you find yourself suddenly staring at his chest, his drenched hoodie clinging to the muscles. Slowly, you tip your head back as he steps closer, planting his palms on the edge of the counter to box you in with his body.
You lean back on instinct as he tilts his head, those red depths burning into yours with a look that leaves you breathless.
"What I want, huh?" He murmurs.
One of his hands suddenly drifts up to your face, and you flinch before you can stop yourself. It’s barely anything, just a small twitch through your shoulders, but he sees it.
Something unreadable tightens in his expression as his hand lingers just above your skin.
You let out a quiet sigh.
Your shoulders ease before you can think better of it, your body going still beneath the familiar brush of his knuckle along your cheek. A moment later, he pinches a small black hair from your skin and holds it up between his fingers.
"Dog hair."
You huff out a laugh, watching as he lets it fall before wiping his hand on his sweats.
But when your eyes lift back to his, your nerves twist tight in the pit of your belly as he leans in, close enough that his musk fills your senses beneath the lingering scent of rain.
What's worse, he offers you that devilish lopsided smile of his as he searches your gaze.
"Why are you afraid of me?" he murmurs, reaching up again, slower this time to thread his fingers into your hair, cradling the side of your head.
"You know damn well you were never the one who needed to be."
You swallow against the sudden dryness in your mouth, your stupid tongue lost for words as Sukuna glides his hand down to the groove of your neck. Settling his thumb against your pulse, drawing lazy circles over your skin.
You avert your gaze, but that doesn’t stop your own hand from reaching up, fingers curling over his.
"I know that..." you whisper, though the words barely make it past your lips.
Sukuna lets out a quiet, breathy laugh before he lifts his knuckle under your chin, tipping your face back to his.
You should move.
You know you should. Hell, your mind is even screaming, move you stupid woman.
Instead, you stay exactly where you are as you press your lips into a thin line. This close, you notice the faded slit of a scar through his eyebrow where his piercing used to be.
But it’s those damn eyes.
Those are what trap you both until you’re lost in one another. Time feels like it stops as everything else disappears. The clinic. The rain. The stray snoring on the exam table. The six years you spent convincing yourself you were over him.
And for some terrifying reason, you aren’t afraid when his hand finds your cheek. Nor do you pull away when he shifts closer.
Oh no, your lips part before you can stop them, your gaze dropping to his as he leans in, brushing his mouth against yours.
PING.
The sudden vibration makes you jump, panting from the adrenaline dump as you pull away from Sukuna and push past his arm toward the door, reaching for your phone.
Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?!
Guilt twists your stomach nauseous as you keep your back to him, steadying your breathing. You tap the screen with your thumb and glance down.
Unknown number: 1 image.
Your brow furrows as you open the message, tapping on the image to make it bigger.
What the hell? Who is this...?
Using your thumb and index finger, you zoom in on the dark, grainy picture, squinting at the screen until you manage to make out the background.
Looks like the back room of some kind of bar?
You suddenly feel uneasy as you enlarge the centre of the photo. There's a woman sitting on the edge of a pool table, cue in one hand with the other hooked around the shoulders of a man standing between her legs.
You scoff under your breath, more confused than anything as Sukuna stirs behind you.
"What's wrong with you?"
PING.
A second image pops up from the same unknown number. Against your better judgement, you tap it open, your pulse pounding in your ears.
This one is clearer, more sharp. The woman is young and beautiful, with dark brown hair spilling over one shoulder, as she kisses him. Your stomach drops and your blood runs cold the minute you notice his hand down her skirt.
Because the man in the photo?
Your boyfriend.
For a moment, you can’t breathe. Can’t blink. Can’t do anything but stare at the glowing screen in your hand while your brain tries to rationalize what you’re looking at.
No.
No, that isn’t...
"Don’t ignore me," Sukuna snaps, his heavy boots drawing closer.
"Give me a minute..." You manage to choke out, rushing out the double doors before he can answer. You make a beeline straight for your office, your footsteps echoing down the hall as you slam the door and lock it behind you.
Collapsing back against the wood, you quickly lift the screen to your face and zoom in on the image again, dragging two trembling fingers over the glass.
No.
No, no, no.
There's no way it's him...
It can't be.
But all 1080p resolution of the photo argues otherwise.
The watch on his wrist. The navy dress shirt you helped him pick out last month. The same hand you’d held across dinner tables, now shoved up some woman’s skirt while her mouth was on his.
Your stomach twists violently.
No.
No, you don’t believe it.
It’s fake. It has to be fake. Just some nasty prank or fucked up misunderstanding. A bad angle. Maybe an old photo. Anything but this.
With numb fingers, you open your contacts and scroll to his name, tapping it hard enough to make your nail click against the screen before bringing it up to your ear, chewing your thumbnail.
We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed.
Your brows pull together. "What...?" you breathe, staring at the screen before hitting the call again.
We're sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed.
Again.
We're sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed.
"Hah."
You huff in disbelief, staring blankly ahead as your arm falls limply to your side. Then your knees follow, giving out to send you sliding down the door until your ass hits the floor with a hard thud.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, you hike your knees up to your chest and drop the back of your head against the wood.
I don't understand? How? Why would he...? When would he even...?
You squeeze your eyes shut, clutching your head in your hands as your fingers twist into your hair, nails digging into your scalp. You breathe hard through your nose, fighting like hell to keep yourself together.
Because this cannot be happening.
Not here.
Not tonight.
Not with Sukuna close enough to hear you fall apart.
...Wait...
Your eyes snap open as your heart races.
For one unimaginably long second, you go completely still.
Then something ugly starts to stir in your guts, twisting and warping hot enough to burn through the shock.
No.
There's no fucking way.
Slowly, you glance over your shoulder, glaring in the direction of the treatment room.
Right where your ex-husband just so happens to be standing with a poor injured stray and his stupid smirk and his stupid timing and his stupid convenient reappearance after six goddamn years.
Your stomach drops.
I live off Mercer.
Ten minutes away. Just happened to be nearby. Just happened to find a stray and bring him to your clinic. Just happened to show up tonight while you conveniently get your relationship blown up by an unknown number.
A bitter laugh slips out of you.
"Oh, you fucking son of a bitch."
You scramble to your feet, squeezing your phone so tightly, your fingers hurt. Gritting your teeth against your uncontrollable breathing, your eyes go wide with rage as you rip the door open, the handle smashing into the drywall hard enough to put a hole in it.
You storm down the hallway, footsteps stomping against the floor until you reach the double doors of the surgical suite and throw them open. Finding Sukuna leaning against the exam table, scratching behind the dog's ear.
"You fucking piece of shit," you hiss, startling the pup, who only lifts his head with a groggy, irritated huff, deciding briskly this is clearly not his problem and plopping back down.
Sukuna on the other hand, goes still, his features turning cold as he furrows his brow.
"What?" he mutters.
You stop a few feet from him, chest heaving, eyes burning as you lift your phone and shake it once.
"Did you do this?"
His face goes blank as he just stares at the screen, then back to you.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" He snaps.
"Pfft." You scoff, tipping your head back with a dry, bitter laugh before fixing him with a nasty glare. "Wow."
"This," you spit, flashing him your phone. "This whole thing. The fucking dog. Showing up here. The timing. The pictures. Did you set this up?!"
Sukuna’s expression hardens instantly as he glances at your screen.
“What the hell are you talking about woman? What pictures?"
"Don’t play stupid with me."
"I’m not playing anything," he snaps, pushing off the table. "What pictures?"
Your laugh comes out broken this time, a choked sound, pathetically close to a sob.
"Wow. You're good. Really good." You nod, blinking fast as your throat tightens. "You almost sound convincing."
His jaw ticks as he steps closer, glaring down at you.
"Careful."
"No, you bastard. You don’t get to careful me." You jab your finger at him, your hand shaking despite how hard you try to stop it.
"You show up here after six years, soaking wet and carrying some injured stray like you’re starring in your own redemption arc, and then the second I almost..."
Your breath hitches as you drop your head into your hand, cutting yourself off.
The air suddenly changes as Sukuna lifts his chin, studying you with that unreadable stare. You swallow hard, fury rushing in to cover the humiliation as you drop your hand, glaring up at him.
"The second I let my guard down, I get anonymous pictures of my boyfriend cheating on me?" you continue, voice cracking around the last words. "Come on, Ryōmen. That’s a little too convenient, don’t you think?”
For a moment, he says nothing.
His gaze drifts from your face to the phone in your hand, then back again. The hard anger in his expression shifts into something else, something colder.
"That piece of shit is cheating on you?"
You just huff out a laugh, shaking your head as you look at the dog, reaching out to give his bum some scritches.
"Don’t act like you don’t know." You murmur, glancing back to him and thrusting your screen into his face.
He jerks his head back slightly, then takes your phone, your fingers brushing before you drop your arm, hugging yourself.
He lifts it close, those cold eyes of his twitching once in the corner as you watch his face, searching for the crack. The smug satisfaction. Anything that proves you're right.
But there’s nothing.
Just that slow, terrifying stillness as he stares at it with a bored sort of scrutiny.
The woman. The pool table. Your boyfriend’s hand.
His mouth tightens as something violent flickers behind his eyes, vanishing just as quickly when he holds your phone back out to you.
"I didn’t send that."
Your throat bobs as you swallow, snatching it back.
"Bullshit."
He cocks a brow, irritation set in his jaw as it ticks.
"Bullshit?"
"Yes, bullshit," you snap. "Who else would do this?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Oh, don’t give me that."
Sukuna scoffs, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head.
"You really think I’d waste my time sending you pictures of that pathetic little prick with his hand up some woman’s skirt?"
Your face burns.
"Don’t."
"Don’t what?" he snaps. "Say it out loud?"
You flinch at his words, averting your gaze to the table where the lab’s tail thumps softly against the metal surface, happy just to hear voices, no matter the tone.
Sukuna lets out an irritated sound, staring at you unimpressed before he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.
"Here." He growls, holding it out for you. "Go through it."
Your brows pull together as you stare down at it dumbly.
"What? I’m not..."
"Quit bitching and go through it," he repeats roughly. "Check my messages, whatever the hell you want."
You stare at it a second longer before curiosity wins out and you grab it, tapping the button to bring up the numbered lock screen.
"I don’t know your passcode," you mutter, glancing up at him.
"Yes, you do," he murmurs, smirking. "I haven’t changed it."
"Tch."
You click your tongue, shaking your head as you type in the four numbers, your chest tightening.
Of fucking course.
The date you met.
The stupid bus stop. The upside down textbook. His smug face when you hopped on the back of his bike and held onto him.
The phone unlocks, presenting you with the barest home screen you've ever seen.
Messages. Phone. Camera. Maps. Weather. Banking. A food delivery app.
No social media. No dating apps. No games. No clutter.
Just the digital equivalent of Sukuna himself; blunt, functional, and pragmatic.
Yet, you scour through everything.
Messages first.
There are barely any really. A short thread with Uraume. A few with a mechanic about parts. A couple of unsaved numbers, all with exchanges so blunt, it almost makes you laugh despite knots in your guts twisting you sick.
Nothing from a number that matches the one on yours. Nothing about your boyfriend. Nothing that looks even remotely like a setup.
You even check the deleted messages and every single folder.
Empty. Nada.
Swallowing thickly, you open his photo's next, finding just one.
You and him on the beach, nearly nine years ago.
The quality is grainy, probably taken on some shitty phone camera under the weak orange glow of a dying bonfire. You’re sitting between his legs in the sand, his jacket around your shoulders with your head turned toward him mid laugh while he gazes down at you.
He isn’t smiling.
But God, the way he’s looking at you...
Your throat tightens so fast it hurts.
No. Nope. Absolutely not.
You blink hard, fighting tooth and nail to keep the tears at bay. But they well up anyway, blurring your vision as one manages to break free, trailing down your cheek as you close the phone.
"I'm sorry, I..." You whisper, sucking in a shaky breath, trying to hide the sob with a laugh as you hand it back to him.
"I shouldn’t have accused you like that."
Sukuna takes it slowly, his expression flat save for the slight furrow between his brows. He slips it into his back pocket and crosses the space, reaching out for you.
You instantly pull away as you hug yourself, and he pauses, narrowing his eyes.
"Don’t," you mutter, wiping the tears away with the heel of your palm. "Just don’t."
You turn away before your face can embarrass you any further, snatching the paper bag of medication off the counter and shoving it into your pocket.
"I’ll take Dog home tonight," you murmur, reaching for a fresh towel from the warmer.
"I already said I would," he counters flatly.
You wave him off, sniffing once as you cross to the exam table, gently bundling the drowsy animal.
"It's fine, you can just come back tomorrow if you’re actually serious about keeping him."
"Why are you being so stubborn, woman?"
A dry, breathless laugh slips out of you.
"Stubborn?" You shake your head, still refusing to look at him. "I’m being practical, you idiot."
"I said no." He snaps. "I'll take him."
"And I heard you," you snap back, feeling his stare burning into the side of your face. "But you can’t exactly ride your bike in this shit, can you? And you sure as hell can’t do it with a petrified animal on your fucking lap."
And just like that, Sukuna shuts up.
No argument. No scoff. No smart ass retort thrown back in your face. He just lets that heavy, miserable silence infect the air until Dog stretches his front legs with a contented sigh, breaking up the awkwardness.
"Pfft, I know," you snort, massaging his thigh. "I know, us annoying humans are too loud."
Smiling, you run your hand down the length of his back, smoothing the towel over him as Sukuna exhales heavily.
Fatigue hits you hard and fast, leaving your limbs heavy and a throbbing pressure building behind your eyes.
Gods, you’re tired.
So fucking tired of today. All you want to do is curl up under your blankets, hide from the world, and ugly cry yourself to sleep.
Sighing, your shoulders sag as you glance over at Sukuna.
"Just call a cab and go home, Ryōmen," you murmur, forcing a tired smile. "We can deal with this tomorrow, okay?"
Sukuna’s eyes narrow on your red, puffy face, before drifting to your hand gripping the table. To your trembling fingers and the salty tear tracks down your cheeks.
Finding your gaze once more with that familiar, cold edge as he just clicks his tongue and turns away.
"Fine."
He doesn't linger, just turns on his heel and strides to the doors, disappearing into the hall to leave you listening to the heavy thud of his boots growing more distant, followed by the faint chime of the front door.
Yeah.
He's gone.
That's for the best.
Dog suddenly sits up, staring at the still swinging doors, and whines. You snort, rubbing his head. "You haven’t even given me a chance, and I’ve already been downgraded to the spare human."
The pup looks to you, wagging his tail and you laugh, mostly to keep your sobs at bay.
"Alright," you whisper, wiping under one eye with your sleeve. "Let’s go home."
Carefully, you lift Dog down from the table and set him on the floor. He immediately toddles over to the surgery doors, scratching weakly at the bottom like Sukuna might magically reappear if he just tried hard enough.
"Ryōmen is right, you are a big baby," you mutter, slipping past him into the dark hallway.
You leave him there for a minute while you hurry through reception, locking the cabinets, shutting down the computer, and turning off the lights one by one.
The clinic slowly falls into further darkness behind you, until all that’s left is the hum of the emergency lights and the rain pouring down on the rooftop.
Returning to the surgery, you're met with the sight of Dog still sitting by the doors like a mopey little child, that tail of his still wagging slowly.
"Oh, don’t look at me like that," you mumble, grabbing a fresh blanket from the warmer. "You'll see him tomorrow."
Wrapping Dog snug once more, you scoop him up into your arms with a grunt, shifting his awkward, lanky body against your chest as he tucks his face weakly beneath your chin.
"Alright," you whisper, trying to adjust the towel over his head. "Let’s make a run for it."
He huffs against your collarbone as you make your way to the back door, and for once, you thank your past self for splurging on an automatic lock. At least you don’t have to fumble with your keys while juggling a half sedated dog.
One problem down.
Bracing yourself, you kick it open to be immediately met with freezing, rainy wind whipping against your face.
Squinting your eyes, you hold Dog closer and cover his sutures as you sprint across the parking lot through the downpour.
The rain soaks through your sweater in seconds, drenching your scrubs, plastering your hair to your face and trickling down the back of your neck.
Joel wasn't kidding. The parking lot is a lake, your shoes splashing with every step, water soaking straight through to your socks as you curse yourself for choosing today of all days to park so bloody far away.
Finally reaching your car, you open the back door first, setting Dog in the backseat before closing the door and running around to the driver's side, throwing yourself inside.
The whole forty five second endeavour has left you drenched to the bone as you shove the key into the ignition.
The engine turns over with a low rumble, and you immediately crank the heat as high as it will go, unfortunately the air blasting from the vents is cold enough to make you shiver.
Alright, give it five, it'll warm up.
Behind you, Dog whines from the backseat, bundled like a burrito in his damp towel and already fogging up the window with his panting.
You ignore him.
Or at least, you try to.
Collapsing into your seat, you tip your head against the headrest, gripping the wheel with both hands as you just stare blankly through the windshield. The wipers sweep back and forth in a rhythmic motion, barely keeping up with fat droplets pelting the glass.
Your teeth start to chatter as you just concentrate on your breathing, shivering more by the second until you reach over and slam the vent shut.
And for one stupid, self pitying minute, you just sit there, fighting to keep this whole awful night from catching up to you.
But your brain has another plan, serving it up all at once.
The memories of your past. Sukuna. Your boyfriend. The messages. The picture. His hand. The woman.
Oh, and the best, most guilt ridden part? The way you almost let your ex-husband kiss you while the man you were supposed to meet for dinner had his tongue down someone else’s throat.
A sob tears out of you before you can stop it.
You fold forward until your brow hits the steering wheel, curling your hands tighter around the leather. What follows isn't pretty. Just ugly, raw, uncontrollable sobs, the kind you can’t suppress no matter how badly you try.
"Fuck," you gasp, pressing your mouth against your sleeve. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Dog whines louder from the backseat.
"I know," you choke out, squeezing your eyes shut as another sob rips up your throat. "I know, I’m sorry."
Gods, I'm pathetic.
Lost in the throes of your own self-deprecation, you barely hear the passenger door open until a cold, wet draft of air rushes in, followed by a hulking form climbing in after it.
You jolt so hard your elbow knocks against the horn, the echoing blare drowned out by the storm.
You jerk upright, wet hair plastered to your face and eyes stinging red, whipping your head toward the passenger side just as Sukuna settles in, bitching under his breath while he shoves the seat back so his knees aren’t under his chin.
For one delirious second, you just blink at him, Dog's tail thumping excitedly against the seat. He's soaked through, running a hand through his hair to brush the wet strands off his brow before glancing over at you.
"What are you...?" you breathe, sniffing as you wipe your face. "Why are you in my car?"
He just stares at you, his jaw ticking before he jerks his head.
"Move."
You just stare at him incredulously, your voice cracking.
"Excuse me?"
"I said move."
You let out a hollow laugh, wiping your face with the back of your sleeve.
"Ryōmen, just stop," you beg, hating how pathetic it sounds. "Please."
Sukuna just scoffs in irritation, reaching out to grab your wrist.
"You can barely breathe, let alone drive."
His gaze flicks to the back seat, narrowing on the panting goofball wagging his tail, before darting back to you.
"Scaring the idiot too."
You snort out a laugh before you can stop yourself as he pulls your hand off the steering wheel, your other falling limp into your lap.
"Good, now just..."
"No." You hiss, cutting him off as you jerk your arm away.
"You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to just waltz into my life after everything and act like you’re the safe place."
Sukuna sucks in a hiss past his teeth as he runs both hands through his hair like you’ve finally scraped the last of his patience raw.
"Stop acting like a fucking idiot then."
Your mouth falls open as your eyes narrow into a glare.
"Wow. Great bedside manner."
"Great critical thinking. A real problem solver."
"Arrgh! You're such a fucking asshole!" you snap, but your voice cracks right down the middle of it.
"You’re the problem that just won’t fucking leave me alone!"
Sukuna goes still as his face shuts down, that cold, practical side of him taking over as his jaw tightens.
"For once in your life stop being so fucking stubborn woman." He hisses, grabbing your wrist tighter.
"You already said it, I can't ride in this shit anyway, now come here and switch with me. I’ll drive you home before you kill yourself and my damn dog."
You exhale heavily, just burnt out as you drop your head into your hand, squeezing your eyes shut.
"What about your bike?" you finally croak.
"It’s fine," he retorts flatly.
"It’s not fine," you whisper.
Sukuna clicks his tongue once before easing his grip, his thumb stroking your skin in lazy circles. You lift your head then and just stare at him, freezing wet and furious and exhausted and so fucking sad you don’t know what to do with it.
You want to slap him.
You want to scream at him.
You want him to leave...
But you also want him to stay so badly it makes you sick.
Sukuna gives your wrist another tug, his voice lower this time. Still impatient, still rough, but carrying that edge of softness he only ever used when you reached your lowest.
The same voice from that night on the bathroom floor.
"Come here." He murmurs.
Your throat tightens so fast your heart aches.
Come here.
God.
Those two little words manage to rip open a festering wound you thought was healed, reducing you down to some pathetic, needy thing that listens.
Sighing in defeat, you reach down to the automatic button on the side and press it back, the mechanical motor whirring while the seat begins to move back.
Slowly.
Like so painfully slow, that Sukuna has plenty of time to sit there smirking, scratching idly at his jaw as you shoot him a dirty look.
"For your long ass legs," you mumble.
"Mhm, how thoughtful."
"Don’t get used to it." You croak, sniffing once. Your throat is so sore from crying and your head pounding.
His smirk only widens as he leans back against the passenger seat, giving you some room to attempt what is most likely going to be a disaster.
Once your seat is finally all the way back, you rotate your body, slipping your right leg out from under the steering column as you push off with the left. Bracing one hand on the dashboard, you reach across with the other and grip his headrest, hoisting yourself up.
Gods, this is awkward.
You grunt as you try to maneuver your right leg over the centre console, only for your elbow to smack the hazard button.
"Darn it...!" you hiss, as the lights start blinking.
Sukuna just huffs out a laugh as he reaches over to shut them off.
You don’t even notice, too busy trying to rotate yourself around without kneeing him in the ribs or accidentally putting your foot through the windshield.
You make it about halfway, your back nearly to the passenger door, before your left foot catches on the steering wheel. A second later, your ass lands heavily in his lap with a mortifying little oof as Sukuna grunts.
For one second, neither of you moves.
Then Sukuna laughs low under his breath, reaching down to jiggle your ankle back and forth before prying your foot free.
"Graceful."
"Hush," you snap, face burning as you twist your hips again. "I’m almost there."
"You sure?"
You ignore him just as the door locks click.
Then unlocks.
Click.
Then lock again.
Click.
With a grumble, you glance down at your elbow jammed against the button, and attempt to readjust yourself lower, only to bump your head on the roof.
"Ow, dammit!"
Sukuna just snorts.
Finally, after the longest, most awkward two minutes of your life spent wrestling with your own limbs, spitting wet strands of hair out of your mouth, and tugging your twisted sweater back down over your midriff, you manage to get yourself somewhat turned around.
Your lower back presses against the passenger door, legs dangling over the centre console, the plastic edge digging into the backs of your knees as your feet plant against the driver’s seat.
Pushing up, you hook your left arm around the back of Sukuna’s neck to scoot yourself up in his lap as he wraps his right one around your waist, helping you shift closer against his front.
"This was stupid," you mutter, glancing up at him as he flashes you that devilish grin. "You could have just gotten out and walked around, you know."
"In that?" He nods toward the rain battering your windshield. "Nah, I don’t want to get soaked."
"A little late for that, don’t you think?" you mumble, flicking his chest through his drenched hoodie. "You’re ruining my seat too."
Sukuna just glances down at your hand, utterly unbothered as he shrugs.
"Send me the cleaning bill."
"God, you're so annoying." You mutter under your breath as he smirks.
Leaving him to bask in his own smugness, you try to shift back against the door, gripping the headrest to give him enough room to climb over into the driver’s seat without crushing you in the process.
Grunting, you lift your bum off his lap with a pull, trying to work with what little room you have in the cramped space.
But the moment you glance up, your breath hitches.
You're so close, faces inches apart.
Both of you freeze as he holds your gaze with his own half lidded one, your warm breaths mingling while your eyes drift to a stray drop of rainwater trailing down his temple.
Slowly, his other hand drifts up, fingers threading through your hair as he brushes the wet strands stuck to your cheek. He tilts his head as he does it, giving you that heated look that makes your heart beat funny.
Humming low, you reach up this time.
His brows twitch as your fingers run along the hard ridge of his jaw, his eyes flicking down to your touch. You let out a small chuckle, pinching a thin black hair from his skin before holding it up between you.
"Dog strikes again."
Sukuna just stares at the tiny black hair then huffs out a laugh. You glance down and wipe it off against your hip, only for his hand to find the side of your face before you can fully look away.
His fingers dig into your jaw when he pulls your gaze roughly back to him.
You swallow thickly, too aware of him all at once. Of the hard ridges of muscle against you. To the heat of his body. To the way his other hand splays wide over your waist, stroking his thumb idly over the bare skin where your sweater has hiked up.
And the crazy part? You just let him.
That part of you, the part you tried to bury all night, finds his warmth comforting. Familiar. Like second nature, leaving your chest feeling so heavy, you almost forget how to breathe
Then reality and your good conscience catches up.
You pull away, neck flushing hot as you clear your throat and mutter, "You're supposed to be moving into the driver’s seat."
Sukuna stares at you for one long, infuriating second as that damn smirk of his makes an appearance.
"Right." He breathes, huffing out a laugh. He reaches his right arm out to grip the driver's headrest, the other supporting you up as he begins to awkwardly shuffle out from under you.
And here we go again.
You're painfully reminded that Ryōmen Sukuna is too damn big for the inside of your Toyota.
Both of you grunt through the maneuver as he manages to get half his torso over the console, bumping the rear view mirror with his shoulder as he grips the steering wheel.
Meanwhile, you’re busy folding yourself into the corner of the passenger seat, bending your legs awkwardly while he tries to pull his own out from under yours, grinding your elbow against the automatic lock.
Click.
Unlock.
Click.
Lock.
"Stop doing that," Sukuna mutters, jaw tight.
"I’m not doing it on purpose," you snap, trying to twist sideways without kneeing him in the junk.
Another two painful minutes pass before you manage to unpretzel yourselves as Sukuna settles into the driver side, grumbling irritably under his breath when his knee knocks the underside of the dash.
"Your car is a joke," he mutters.
You fall back into your seat with a huff, buckling your seat belt as Dog whines.
"No, it’s not," you retort, reaching back to ruffle Dog’s head while Sukuna turns on the GPS. "You’re just built like a neanderthal."
"Where do you live?" he asks, ignoring your jab as he rests his elbow on the console.
You glance over at him and point weakly toward the screen.
"It’s already programmed in."
He just hums dismissively, tapping the home button. The screen lights up the dashboard in a pale blue glow as he pulls out of the parking lot and turns onto the road.
For a while, neither of you says anything.
The only sounds are the steady thwap of the wipers, the low drone of the engine, and Dog’s occasional snore from the backseat. His tail thumps every now and then whenever Sukuna shifts, like he is determined to stay awake and keep watch over his new favourite human before sleep finally wins.
Hah, love at first sight.
You get the sentiment.
You turn your head toward the window and lose yourself to the world smearing by in streaks of rain. Storefronts blur together while streetlamps stretch long and distorted across the glass.
Everything outside looks so warped.
Oh, how fitting.
Your throat tightens again as another one of those ugly sobs starts stirring deep in your chest. Your emotions are all over the place, tears falling silently as you turn your head to hide your face.
Sukuna casts a sidelong glance in your direction, his features hardening.
"You live with him?" he finally asks, bluntly.
You feel too tired to answer.
Instead, you rest your forehead against the cool glass, closing your eyes as you wipe your reddened, wet cheeks with your sleeve.
"No," you finally croak.
Sukuna props his jaw on his fist while driving with the other, a small smile pulling at his lips.
