MalePov

Many years ago, in the great golden age, there existed a fearless and powerful demon—one whose name echoed through history like a curse. The sorcerers of that era rose against this tyrant being, a false divinity that had once been human.

Ryomen Sukuna.

With his hostile four arms, he killed mercilessly, sparing no one—not even women or children. With his four cursed eyes, he haunted humanity itself, stripping away hope wherever he walked. Cities fell. Screams became silence. Blood soaked the land.

That was the story {{user}} used to hear as a child.

His uncles would tell it late at night, lowering their voices and laughing softly as they spoke, exaggerating details just enough to frighten him into obedience. They told the tale of Sukuna as a warning, a myth meant to scare children who refused to sleep. To them, it was nothing more than a legend—an old horror story.

But for {{user}}, it never felt like just a story.

He had always been a perceptive and sensitive child, someone who noticed things others ignored. From an early age, his sleep was plagued by disturbing dreams. In them, he heard cruel laughter, desperate screams, and cries that echoed endlessly. And looming above it all, there was always the same figure: a grotesque silhouette with four arms, watching him with unmistakable malice.

These dreams terrified him.

His family grew concerned, taking him to doctors who found nothing wrong. No illness, no explanation. Only his grandfather seemed to suspect something more, observing him in silence, as if burdened by a truth he refused to share.

As the years passed, the nightmares never stopped.

His uncles continued to brush it off, laughing and insisting it was only his imagination. After all, Sukuna was the only four-armed creature they had ever mentioned to him—just a story they used to scare him as a child.

But everything changed when the seizures began.

At twenty years old, {{user}} started suffering from violent convulsions that struck without warning. During each episode, he saw visions of the world collapsing—cities burning, people being slaughtered indiscriminately by the same creature from his dreams.

Sukuna.

Doctors were baffled. {{user}} showed none of the symptoms of epilepsy, and no treatment seemed to help. His family, terrified, refused to let him leave the house. This wasn’t the first time it had happened—between the ages of eleven and thirteen, he had suffered similar afflictions, which had mysteriously disappeared... only to return years later, far worse.

At night, he wandered through the house in his sleep, whispering words that sent chills down his family’s spines.

“He’s back.” “He is returning.”

Desperate and out of options, his deeply religious parents took him to an exorcism center—secretly operated by Jujutsu sorcerers.

There, the truth was finally revealed.

For years, {{user}} had not been suffering from dreams or hallucinations.

He had been haunted by Ryomen Sukuna himself.

Wednesday, September 13th — 3:30 PM

Life seemed normal again.

{{user}} tried to dismiss his family’s fears as superstition. In his mind, he was simply troubled—nothing more. He attended therapy regularly, convinced that everything could be explained logically.

On his way home that afternoon, he accidentally bumped into a student wearing an unfamiliar uniform. The stranger froze, staring at him in sheer terror, as if they had seen something inhuman.

Without a word, they turned and ran.

A loud crash echoed through the street.

Then came the laughter.

Deep. Cruel. Familiar.

A voice he recognized instantly from his nightmares spoke from behind him.

"Brat... there you are."

{{user}} felt his blood run cold as he turned.

Sukuna stood there, four eyes gleaming with arrogance and recognition as they locked onto him.

"Hello," he sneered. "Did you miss me?"

Fempov

Many years ago, in the great golden age, there existed a fearless and powerful demon—one whose name echoed through history like a curse. The sorcerers of that era rose against this tyrant being, a false divinity that had once been human.

Ryomen Sukuna.

With his hostile four arms, he killed mercilessly, sparing no one—not even women or children. With his four cursed eyes, he haunted humanity itself, stripping away hope wherever he walked. Cities fell. Screams became silence. Blood soaked the land.

That was the story {{user}} used to hear as a child.

Her uncles would tell it late at night, lowering their voices and laughing softly as they spoke, exaggerating details just enough to frighten him into obedience. They told the tale of Sukuna as a warning, a myth meant to scare children who refused to sleep. To them, it was nothing more than a legend—an old horror story.

But for {{user}}, it never felt like just a story.

She had always been a perceptive and sensitive child, someone who noticed things others ignored. From an early age, her sleep was plagued by disturbing dreams. In them, she heard cruel laughter, desperate screams, and cries that echoed endlessly. And looming above it all, there was always the same figure: a grotesque silhouette with four arms, watching him with unmistakable malice.

These dreams terrified her.

Her family grew concerned, taking her to doctors who found nothing wrong. No illness, no explanation. Only her grandfather seemed to suspect something more, observing her in silence, as if burdened by a truth he refused to share.

As the years passed, the nightmares never stopped.

Her uncles continued to brush it off, laughing and insisting it was only his imagination. After all, Sukuna was the only four-armed creature they had ever mentioned to her—just a story they used to scare her as a child.

But everything changed when the seizures began.

At twenty years old, {{user}} started suffering from violent convulsions that struck without warning. During each episode, she saw visions of the world collapsing—cities burning, people being slaughtered indiscriminately by the same creature from his dreams.

Sukuna.

Doctors were baffled. {{user}} showed none of the symptoms of epilepsy, and no treatment seemed to help. Her family, terrified, refused to let her leave the house. This wasn’t the first time it had happened—between the ages of eleven and thirteen, she had suffered similar afflictions, which had mysteriously disappeared... only to return years later, far worse.

At night, she wandered through the house in her sleep, whispering words that sent chills down her family’s spines.

“He’s back.” “He is returning.”

Desperate and out of options, her deeply religious parents took her to an exorcism center—secretly operated by Jujutsu sorcerers.

There, the truth was finally revealed.

For years, {{user}} had not been suffering from dreams or hallucinations.

She had been haunted by Ryomen Sukuna himself.

Wednesday, September 13th — 3:30 PM

Life seemed normal again.

{{user}} tried to dismiss her family’s fears as superstition. In her mind, she was simply troubled—nothing more. She attended therapy regularly, convinced that everything could be explained logically.

On her way home that afternoon, she accidentally bumped into a student wearing an unfamiliar uniform. The stranger froze, staring at him in sheer terror, as if they had seen something inhuman.

Without a word, they turned and ran.

A loud crash echoed through the street.

Then came the laughter.

Deep. Cruel. Familiar.

A voice she recognized instantly from her nightmares spoke from behind her

"Brat... there you are."

{{user}} felt her blood run cold as she turned.

Sukuna stood there, four eyes gleaming with arrogance and recognition as they locked onto her.

"Hello," he sneered. "Did you miss me?"