Chapter Text
The rain lashed against the window as you hunched over your desk, peering at the ancient relic in front of you. You’d seen your fair share of cursed objects in your time as a junior sorcerer, but this one was something else entirely. The grotesque, shriveled finger seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, the aura it radiated thick and suffocating.
You should’ve handed it off to someone more experienced. The moment you unwrapped it, your instincts screamed to get it far, far away. But curiosity—or perhaps arrogance—had kept you here, trying to make sense of the strange pull it had over you.
“Just another relic,” you muttered to yourself, trying to calm the unease twisting in your chest. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Grabbing a knife, you leaned closer to scrape a sample from the finger’s surface. The blade slipped, slicing across your palm. You hissed, jerking back as blood welled up, a single drop splattering onto the mummified digit.
The air in the room shifted immediately.
A deep, thrumming energy pulsed outward, knocking over books and sending your lamp flickering wildly. You stumbled back, clutching your bleeding hand, as the relic began to glow—faintly at first, then brighter and brighter until it filled the entire room with a blinding crimson light.
“What the—”
A guttural sound ripped through the air, like laughter mixed with the growl of a predator. The light shattered, and when you opened your eyes, your breath caught in your throat.
Standing in the center of your room was a man.
No—calling him a man felt wrong. He was something else entirely, something ancient and dangerous. His tall frame was impossible to ignore, broad shoulders and lean muscle wrapped in smooth skin marked with black tattoos that pulsed faintly, as though alive. His white-pink hair framed a face too handsome for comfort, though the sharp, predatory grin he wore made your stomach churn.
And his eyes. Crimson, glowing, and fixed entirely on you.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice deep and rich, dripping with amusement. “Isn’t this a surprise? Waking up in a strange place and finding you here of all people.”
You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart hammering wildly. “W-who are you?”
He tilted his head, his grin widening. “You don’t recognize me? Tch. How cruel. I suppose it’s been… a few centuries.” He stepped closer, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. “Sukuna. The King of Curses.”
Your stomach dropped, and your legs threatened to give out. Sukuna. The most feared name in sorcerer history. The stuff of nightmares.
“Oh, I see that look,” Sukuna said, chuckling as he took another step forward. “You do remember something, don’t you? Or are you just terrified of how ridiculously good-looking I am?”
You gawked at him, your fear briefly replaced by disbelief. “Good-looking? You just—materialized out of a cursed finger! How am I supposed to focus on anything else?”
He laughed, the sound deep and surprisingly genuine. “Ah, there’s the fire I remember. Always quick with the comebacks, my queen.”
“Queen?” you sputtered, gripping the edge of your desk to steady yourself.
“Don’t play coy,” he said, smirking as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “You might not remember me, but I remember everything. Your soul, your voice… even your terrible cooking.”
You stared at him, horrified. “I—what?!”
His grin widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. You were terrible at cooking, but I let it slide because you looked so cute trying to impress me.”
“This isn’t happening,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You’re lying. I’m not your—whatever you think I am!”
“Reincarnation’s a funny thing, isn’t it?” Sukuna mused, ignoring your protests. “You don’t remember, but your soul does. That’s why you touched my finger. Why your blood woke me up. Admit it—you couldn’t resist me even in this life.”
You scowled, your fear beginning to twist into irritation. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you.” He smirked, clearly misinterpreting—or purposefully ignoring—your tone.
Your pulse raced as he straightened, his towering presence still oppressive despite the teasing glint in his eyes. “What do you want from me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“What I’ve always wanted,” Sukuna said, his tone shifting to something darker. “My power, my throne… and you. My queen by my side, where you belong.”
Your breath caught as his words sank in. “I don’t belong to anyone,” you said, though your voice wavered.
He chuckled, stepping back and sweeping a hand around the room. “Ah, this modern world. Weak sorcerers, buildings that scrape the sky… and you, playing at being normal.” His eyes gleamed as he turned back to you. “But you’ll remember, little one. You’ll remember everything.”
As he leaned casually against your desk, looking far too at ease for someone who’d just been resurrected, he added, “Now, why don’t you make us some tea? Or do you still burn water?”
You gawked at him, caught between terror, disbelief, and the overwhelming urge to hit him. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all,” he said, grinning. “But take your time. I’ve waited centuries for you—I can wait a little longer.”
Despite his teasing tone, the weight of his gaze made it clear, you weren’t going to get rid of him anytime soon.
And deep down, in the recesses of your soul, something about him did feel familiar…