He lay there. Splattered across the pavement on the brink of death while the human that he despised the most towered over him offering him a chance at life, to him. Him. The king of curses, the strongest being to ever exist in history, reduced to a smudge on the ground, defeated by a mere child who hadn't the faintest clue about jujutsu just a year ago.
How had it come to this? Wasn't he the strongest? Did he split himself to wait for a thousand years, to conquer this era, to rule upon his rightful throne, only to face such a humiliating defeat at the hands of someone so weaker than him?
'Now who's the weak one?'
His mind taunted him.
The brat was speaking. Clothes tattered, scar ridden face. He was holding Sukuna in his bare hands.
"Sukuna... let's try it one more time. Living not by cursing someone but living alongside them".
As if he genuinely thought Sukuna capable of that. What a farce. Meaningless drivel.
"... I'll live with you. Even if no one else will accept you".
He'll live with Sukuna inside his head? Knowing he'll torture his mind, mock him, try to break him every way possible? He expects Sukuna to bend over to his whims and stay prisoner inside his body, unable to interact with the world, agonizing each other till death finally relives them both?
He'd rather die.
All of this because he wants Sukuna to value life? He wanted to laugh. As if all the countless massacres he committed throughout his life were nothing.
'A martyr till the end, how like you'
Sukuna killed his friends, his teacher, his brother. Made him watch as he wrecked chaos in Shibuya, laughed while he cried. He should loathe him. He did loathe him, he told him as such in his domain. And yet he had the gall to pity him and offer himself as vessel once again. Oh, how he hated him.
A bleeding heart, Itadori Yuuji contrasted him in every way possible. He stood against every aspect that made Sukuna. Weak rivaling strong, kind against heartless, bright against dark, naiveity opposing cunning, an idealist against hedonism . To think he was born from his bloodline. A universal joke.
"I'm impressed you'd take this farce so far... Itadori Yuuji. Don't underestimate me, I'm a curse."
The brat frowned at him. Acceptance smoothed his features after a moment.
"Goodbye Sukuna."
And what remained of Sukuna faded to dust in his hands.
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Sukuna's eyes flickered open, or maybe they remained shut. The surrounding void was so dark that he couldn't see a thing. Defeat weighed heavy on him. He couldn't feel his body. Why couldn't he feel his body? He realised he didn't have one.
Hell? It couldn't be.
It felt like the void he was suspended in when he was sealed all those years ago. Except that he could tell that he was awake, he could feel his being (his soul?). He could tell it was warm unlike the nothingness when he was sealed, but how was that possible when he didn't have a body? He's sure he doesn't.
He looked around (with what eyes?), tried to extend his senses- nothing still just warmth. He tried to move, uselessly, as expected.
"What is this place"? No answer.
Maybe he should wait. He has waited a thousand years before afterall. Though he wasn't conscious most of the time. He could only occasionally feel the environment his fingers were kept in.
Maybe that was how he was able to keep
most of his sanity intact. Although most would have gone insane. He was not a part of the most.
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Minutes passed -or maybe hours he could'nt really tell. He let his thoughts run astray. Would he go to hell? If there was even a hell to go to. He thought back to his last moments. He felt indignant. He deserved a better death than that. He could've accepted if he died at the hands of the former strongest, Gojo Satoru. He died fitting death. While Sukuna suffered his fate to that worthless-
His thoughts cut off by a flash of bright light, it blinded him and he was suddenly falling. He panicked only for a moment. He was sure that he was already dead.
That's when he head it. Someone -or something- was talking... to him?
"-oumen Sukuna"
It was deafening. The voice could only be described as otherworldly.
"You will guard him."
Guard? Guard who?
"- will know when you see him"
"...-o not waste this chan-"
What chance?
"A chance at life."
The finality of those words resonated as he fell through the dark.
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