SUKUNA || WANTS YOU

The air in the underground station was thick, smelling of ozone and old blood. 500 years after the world broke, the "King of Curses" was back, though he was a ghost of his former glory—a god with a cracked crown.

Sukuna found himself flanked by two absolute bottom-feeders.

Roe, a spindly thing with a permanent, nervous twitch, and Caesar, who carried a round belly and a wide, jagged grin that never reached his single, bulging eye.

They were sycophants, the kind of creatures that would trip over their own feet just to lick the hem of his hakama.

"Tsk, tsk, Master Sukuna! I was thinking we could just grab the humans and just kill them one by one," Roe chirped, his voice a grating rasp.

He’d been buzzing around Sukuna like a persistent gnat since they’d pulled him from the shadows a week ago.

"Yes! Master Sukuna! World domination would be in our hands! Oh, it sounds wonderful!"

Caesar added, letting out a hysterical, wheezing laugh that echoed off the grime-covered tiles of the station.

Sukuna didn't look at them.

He walked with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his black and red hakama, his four eyes scanning the ruins of a world that had devolved into a playground for hell-spawn.

He was in his true form—towering, muscular, and inherently violent—but he kept his cursed energy pulled tight to his chest. He was a predator in the tall grass, waiting for his strength to return after that brat Itadori had nearly extinguished his flame centuries ago.

He cleaned his ear with a pinky, scowling.

"I don’t remember giving you permission to speak," he rumbled.

The sheer weight of his voice made the floorboards groan.

The two spirits gulped, shrinking back.

"What’s wrong with the boss?" Roe whispered, leaning toward Caesar.

"How should I know? He’s trying to get his power back, so he’s grumpy," Caesar hissed back, a devilish tooth poking over his lip.

"Maybe we should sing him a song—"

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. If they sang, he’d peel them like grapes.

The mundane silence of the station was broken by the clatter of a late-night crowd.

Humans.

A woman, draped in expensive fabrics and clutching a white poodle, marched through the turnstile while snapping her gum.

She was so buried in her phone that she slammed straight into Sukuna’s broad, tattooed chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" she barked, not even looking up at the monster she'd just insulted.

"My poor baby! Did this meanie hurtcha?" She cooed at the dog, ruffling its fur before finally glaring at Sukuna.

It was the last mistake she’d ever make. Roe’s eyes sparked.

Seeing a chance to impress his master, he lunged.

In an instant, the woman’s indignant shout turned into a wet, gurgling scream as the spirits fell upon her.

The poodle didn't hesitate; it bolted, paws clicking frantically against the concrete as it left its owner to be devoured.

Panic ignited.

The crowd surged toward the exits, a chaotic sea of screaming faces and tripping limbs. Sukuna watched with bored detachment, the scowl deepening.

He hated the noise.

He hated the mindless scramble.

Until he saw you.

You weren't running.

While the world around you dissolved into a bloodbath, you simply adjusted your bag, your gaze fixed on the tracks as if the carnage was nothing more than a minor transit delay.

You moved with the weary grace of someone who had seen the sky fall and simply decided to bring an umbrella.

In this new, broken Earth—crawling with vampires, aliens, and demons—you looked like you’d handled worse.

Sukuna tilted his head, his long, black nails tracing the line of his jaw. He tried to reach into your mind, to find the fear, the spark of recognition, or even a hidden technique.

But he found nothing but a strange, quiet steel. It should have enraged him.

Instead, it was the most interesting thing he’d seen in five centuries.

The two spirits, finished with their "snack," began to creep toward you, their predatory instincts honed in on the only stationary target left.

"I’m confused why your head is held so high,"

Sukuna’s voice sliced through the chaos. Roe and Caesar froze instantly, dropping into a low, trembling bow as Sukuna’s aura began to leak—a cold, suffocating pressure that made the air feel like liquid lead.

But you? You just kept standing there.

A low, guttural laugh bubbled up from Sukuna’s throat. He snapped his fingers, and the heavy emergency doors slammed shut, sealing the 2,000 panicked souls inside the station.

The sound of their screaming intensified, desperate hands drumming against the metal.

One man, fueled by a suicidal burst of hope, pointed at the doors. "Everyone! If we all bang on the door, we can break—"

Crack.

With a flicker of movement faster than the eye could track, Sukuna was standing inches from the man’s face. "No," he whispered, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. "You won’t."

The man turned to stone, his breath hitching. "I hereby forbid every person in a 100-meter radius from moving," Sukuna announced, his voice carrying the weight of a binding vow.

"Until I say the word 'Now.' I’ll kill anyone who disobeys."

The station went deathly silent. Two thousand people frozen in mid-stride, mid-scream, mid-prayer. It was a gallery of statues.

"Except..."

Sukuna blurred, reappearing directly in your path. His massive frame loomed over you, casting a shadow that swallowed you whole.

He reached out, his thick fingers gripping your chin with a terrifyingly gentle strength, forcing you to look up into those four crimson eyes.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin, his voice dropping to a seductive, dangerous purr.

"You."