Sukuna

The great hall of Castle Kaisen was suffocating.

Sukuna had been to a hundred diplomatic functions like this one—forced smiles, hollow pleasantries, lords and ladies vying for favor like vultures circling carrion. He usually endured them with a bored sneer and a cup of wine, counting the minutes until he could leave. But tonight was different. Tonight, the Southern Kingdom's delegation had arrived, which meant he was here.

Sukuna had known for weeks this moment was coming. The treaty renewal between the three kingdoms required all ruling heirs to attend, and he'd received the missive with your name on it three days ago. He'd told himself it meant nothing. He'd told himself he'd treat you like any other political nuisance—beneath his notice, unworthy of his attention. He'd told himself a lot of things.

And yet here he was, standing near the entrance of the great hall, scanning the crowd like a hawk hunting prey. His jaw was set. His hand was curled around a goblet of wine he hadn't touched. His advisor had tried to engage him in conversation twice and been silenced both times with a single look.

"Brother, you're doing that thing again."

Sukuna didn't turn. He didn't need to. He'd recognize that voice anywhere—sunny, oblivious, and somehow always able to find him in a crowd.

"What thing?" he muttered.

Yuji appeared at his side, dressed in a formal kimono that he'd already managed to wrinkle, his pink hair sticking up at odd angles despite what had clearly been an attempt to tame it. He was holding two plates of food, because of course he was. Yuji never met a banquet table he didn't like.

"That thing where you look like you're about to murder someone," Yuji said cheerfully, offering one of the plates. "You've been standing here for twenty minutes. I counted."

"I'm not—" Sukuna started, then stopped. Because at that exact moment, the herald's voice rang out across the hall.

"Presenting His Royal Highness, Crown Prince of the Southern Kingdom!"

Sukuna's grip on the goblet tightened until his knuckles went white. He watched you enter—head high, shoulders back, every step measured and graceful. You were dressed in deep emerald silk tonight, the color of your kingdom's banners, with gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs. Your hair was styled perfectly. Your expression was serene, diplomatic, utterly unreadable. You looked like a painting. You looked like a king already, even though you were only a prince.

Sukuna hated how good you looked.

"Ohhh, there he is!" Yuji said around a mouthful of food, completely oblivious to the way his brother had gone rigid beside him. "The Southern prince! I heard he once fought off an entire bandit camp by himself. Is that true? He doesn't look like he could fight off a cold, honestly. He's very... pretty."

Sukuna's head snapped toward his brother. "Pretty?"

"Yeah, you know, like—" Yuji gestured vaguely with his fork. "Nice to look at. Not my type, obviously, but I can see the appeal. Why? Do you think he's pretty?"

"I think he's an insect," Sukuna said flatly.

"An insect you've been staring at for the past thirty seconds."

"Shut up, Yuji."

Before Yuji could respond—probably with something infuriatingly perceptive and cheerful—a low voice cut through the noise from behind them.

"The Southern delegation requested extra guards at the gates. They're paranoid. Or cautious. Either way, it's insulting."

Toji Fushiguro materialized at Sukuna's shoulder like a ghost, his massive frame somehow fitting into the shadows despite his size. He was dressed in dark leather and steel, his sword resting against his hip, a toothpick dangling from his lips. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were fixed on the Southern prince across the room.

"Paranoid," Sukuna said. "They've always been paranoid. Can't blame them, surrounded by enemies on all sides."

"You're one of those enemies," Toji pointed out.

"All the more reason for caution."

Behind Toji, Kenjaku emerged from the crowd with the silent, unsettling grace of a snake. His long dark hair was pulled back, his robes immaculate, his expression serene in a way that never failed to put Sukuna on edge. Kenjaku was his most trusted advisor—and his most dangerous. The man had secrets upon secrets, and Sukuna knew it. But he was useful. Loyal, as long as it suited him.

"He looks well," Kenjaku observed, following Sukuna's gaze. "The Southern prince. Better than he did at the border negotiations six months ago. You remember those, don't you, Your Highness?"

Sukuna's jaw tightened. "Vaguely."

"Vaguely." Kenjaku's lips curved into a thin smile. "You came back from those negotiations in quite the mood. Broke three training dummies and nearly set fire to the eastern wing. I had to bribe the servants to keep quiet."

"That was unrelated."

"Of course, Your Highness."

Toji snorted, not even pretending to mind his own business. "He's been in a mood for months. Ever since the border. Thought it was just his usual temper, but now..." He glanced at Sukuna, then back at you across the room. "Now I'm starting to wonder if something else is going on."

"Nothing is going on," Sukuna growled. "I hate him. He's my enemy. The fact that he's here is an insult to my kingdom and my bloodline."

"Uh-huh," Yuji said, still chewing. "That's why you're staring at him like he's the last piece of meat at a feast, right?"

"I will throw you into the moat, Yuji."

"You always say that, but you never do it."

"There's still time."

Sukuna turned away from them all, but his gaze—traitorous, stubborn, completely out of his control—drifted back to you. You were speaking with a group of nobles now, your expression polite and distant, but there was something tired in the set of your shoulders. Something weary. He wondered if anyone else noticed. He wondered why he noticed.

Then Lord Ayaka stepped into your path.

Sukuna's entire body went rigid.

Ayaka was tall, handsome, and rich—everything Sukuna wasn't in terms of diplomacy. He was also a notorious opportunist who had been circling your kingdom for years, trying to secure a marriage alliance with your family. He'd been rejected three times. Everyone knew it. But he never stopped trying.

He was speaking to you now, leaning in far too close, his hand gesturing animatedly. And you were laughing. You were actually laughing at something he said, your head tilting back just slightly, your smile genuine for a fraction of a second.

Something hot and sharp twisted in Sukuna's chest. He didn't have a name for it. He refused to give it one.

"Your Highness," Kenjaku murmured at his elbow, "perhaps we should—"

"I see him."

Sukuna didn't wait for the rest. He thrust his goblet into Yuji's hands without looking and moved through the crowd, guests parting around him like water around a blade. He could feel Toji and Kenjaku falling into step behind him, flanking him like the loyal shadows they were, but he didn't need them. He didn't need anyone. He just needed to get to you.

He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of you, close enough to see the way your jaw tightened at his approach. Close enough to smell whatever expensive oil you'd put in your hair—sandalwood and something citrus, subtle and infuriating. Close enough that anyone watching would notice the tension crackling between you like a storm about to break.

Lord Ayaka took a hasty step back. Wise man.

"Well, well." Sukuna's voice was low, meant only for you. The corner of his mouth curved into that familiar, infuriating smirk. "The little prince of the South graces us with his presence. I'm surprised you left your kingdom undefended. Don't you have peasants to oppress? Or did you just miss me?"

He tilted his head, crimson eyes dragging over you slowly, deliberately, like he was cataloging every detail—the way your collar sat against your throat, the slight flush creeping up your neck, the way your fingers had curled into a fist at your side. When his gaze returned to your face, something flickered in it. Something hungry and annoyed all at once.

"You're standing too close to Lord Ayaka." His voice dropped even lower, a possessive edge bleeding into the mockery. "His family's been trying to marry into your line for years. Surely you're not that desperate for allies."

Behind him, he heard Yuji's bright voice cut through the tension.

"Oh! The Southern prince! I've always wanted to meet you! My brother talks about you all the time—"

"Yuji," Sukuna said without turning, his voice a warning.

"—he says you're the most infuriating man in all seven kingdoms and that you fight like a wild animal and that your smile is—"

"Yuji, I swear to every god—"

"I'm just being friendly!" Yuji said brightly. "It's nice to meet you, Your Highness. I'm Yuji. Sukuna's brother. Don't mind him, he's always like this. He actually has a lot of—"

"Toji," Sukuna said calmly, "remove him."

Before Yuji could protest, Toji had already grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him away, Yuji's cheerful protests fading into the general noise of the hall. Kenjaku, meanwhile, had remained exactly where he was, watching the scene unfold with the quiet interest of a scholar observing a particularly fascinating experiment.

Sukuna turned his attention back to you. He stepped closer still, eliminating the last of the space between you, forcing you to either stand your ground or retreat. His chest nearly brushed yours. His eyes never left your face.

"Or maybe you just like the attention." A pause. "Pathetic."

But he didn't move away. He stayed right there, towering over you, close enough that his breath ghosted across your cheek. His eyes flicked down to your mouth for half a second—just a fraction of a moment—before snapping back up. His smirk widened, but there was something strained about it now, something almost desperate.

"I heard about the border skirmish last month," he said, changing tack abruptly. "Three of your patrols routed by bandits. Embarrassing." His voice was mocking, but his eyes were sharp, searching your face for something. "What's the matter, little prince? Can't protect your own people? Or were you too busy playing dress-up at court to notice?"

He leaned in, his lips nearly brushing your ear. "If you need a real man to show you how it's done, you know where to find me."

Then he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, his expression unreadable. He was waiting—daring you—to push him away. To hit him. To do something. Anything. He wanted a reaction. He needed one.

Behind him, Kenjaku's voice drifted over, quiet and amused.

"The treaty signing is tomorrow, Your Highness. Perhaps you should try not to start a war before then."

Sukuna ignored him.

And somewhere beneath the mockery and the arrogance and the years of hatred, Sukuna knew, with a sickening certainty, that he'd come to this ball tonight for one reason and one reason only: to see you.