Within the domain of his innate technique, the Demon's Kitchen, Sukuna sat upon a throne made of countless skulls. His four arms rested casually on the armrests. On both of his faces, four crimson eyes stared into the depths of this eternal realm built by his jujutsu—a place of nothing but boiling blood and infinite silence.
A thousand years had passed.
Ever since he had split his soul and power, sealed them into twenty fingers, and transformed them into special-grade cursed objects scattered across the world, his consciousness had been sleeping and waiting within this innate domain.
Occasionally, a sorcerer on the verge of death would attempt to "use" one of his fingers. Those faint fluctuations of consciousness were like stones thrown into still water—barely a ripple.
Until today.
Until the pink-haired boy swallowed the finger.
Through Yuji Itadori's eyes, he had seen two familiar shikigami—Jade Dog Black and Jade Dog White—and the black-haired boy standing alertly behind them.
The Ten Shadows Technique.
At that moment, Sukuna's four eyes narrowed slightly. The corners of his two mouths curved into an indescribable arc—not anger, not excitement, but an almost absurd sense of "of course."
"Zen'in Genji..." He whispered the name, his voice echoing layer by layer through the empty sea of blood, carrying a thousand years of dust and obsession. "So you... have awakened as well."
Fragments of memory surfaced in the blood.
It was an era where war and curses raged in equal measure. Villages lay in ruins under the pressure of cursed spirits. Nobles schemed among themselves. The people struggled in fear and despair. And above this chaotic backdrop, two figures stood out.
One was the "King of Curses," Ryomen Sukuna. Four arms, two faces—born hideous, but blessed with the highest talent for curses. He acted willfully, taking pleasure in slaughter, considering human fear and screams the most delicious delicacy. The four arms extending from beneath his feminine kimono could easily tear down city walls. His slashes could split mountains in half. He was a walking calamity, a nightmare that sorcerers didn't even dare to name.
Except for one person.
Zen'in Genji.
Sukuna first met him in a village deep in Mount Tamba.
He had just finished a "feast," his four arms still stained with warm blood, looking for his next amusement. Then he saw the young man standing in the ruins.
His indigo hunting robes were immaculately clean. His expression was nearly indifferent. Beneath the young man's feet, shadows writhed like living creatures, and the shadows of nine shikigami coiled around him.
Sukuna's four eyes lit up at once.
This is how you meet a true "equal."
"A little brat from the Ten Shadows Technique," he opened both mouths simultaneously, his voice overlaying teasing and anticipation. "Come play with me?"
The battle lasted half an hour. Max Elephant's flood and the Snake's poisonous miasma reshaped the terrain. The Crane's thunder and Sukuna's slashes tore the sky apart. In the end, he chose to retreat.
It wasn't defeat. It was "not fun enough yet—next time."
From then on, "next time" continued for a hundred years.
Over a hundred years, they fought seventeen times. Sometimes in the mountains, sometimes on the coast, sometimes even in the aristocratic mansions of Kyoto—Sukuna would go on a killing spree for fun, and Genji would come to stop him, and then they would fight as usual.
Sukuna felt that every time they fought, Genji grew stronger.
Not an increase in raw cursed energy, but an inexplicable development in technique understanding, power control, and tactical restraint. It was as if there was an invisible wisdom within him, far beyond that era, guiding him.
And Sukuna himself was forced to evolve under this pressure. He developed new applications of cursed energy, mastered fine-tuned control of cursed power, and even began to touch the prototype of a "domain."
Every time Genji cornered him, he would come back stronger the next time they met.
But he never won.
The closest he came to victory was at Mount Ibuki. Sukuna deployed his "Demon's Kitchen" domain and dragged Genji into his innate realm. In that world of kitchen counters and bones, his attacks could ignore distance and defense—an absolute kill.
Then he watched as Genji calmly formed a hand seal.
A domain.
It was the first and only time he saw a trace of seriousness in Zen'in Genji's eyes.
But that was all.
After the battle, Zen'in Genji stood on the summit of Mount Ibuki, which had been split in half, the hem of his hunting robe fluttering in the night wind. He looked at the exhausted Sukuna and suddenly said:
"Sukuna, how much longer are you going to keep causing trouble?"
Sukuna propped himself up on the ground, lifted his head, and both of his faces simultaneously broke into hideous grins:
"Until I beat you."
Genji was silent for a moment, then slightly shook his head.
"You won't beat me. At least... not yet."
"Then get stronger!" Sukuna roared, all four eyes glaring at him. "Strong enough that you have to use your full power! Strong enough that you can't look at me like a child anymore!"
Genji looked at him for a long time. Then he laughed.
It was the first and last time Sukuna saw Genji show that almost "understanding" smile.
"Alright," Genji said. "I'll wait for you."
---
Later, Sukuna heard that Genji had transformed himself into a shikigami and sunk into the shadow realm, waiting to be summoned by future generations. He heard that Genji had created a barrier covering the entire world, absorbing scattered cursed energy and drastically reducing the number of cursed spirits. He heard that Genji had become the "God of Curses," enshrined upon an altar, receiving the worship of all people.
Sukuna sat among the ruins of a village he had just slaughtered, holding a still-beating heart in his four hands, and suddenly found that the taste of blood in his mouth had become a little boring.
"Boring," he muttered, casually tossing aside the heart. "Since when did you become a god... Did you ask me?"
But deep down, he knew—Genji was gone. There was no opponent in this era who could make him "happy."
Those so-called special-grade sorcerers, those children of great families called "geniuses"—they were as fragile as paper to him. Their jujutsu was elaborate, their barriers were delicate, and their will to fight was incredibly naive.
None of them could make him feel "I am still alive" the way Genji had.
"Since you're leaving for a thousand years..." Sukuna looked at his own bloodstained four hands, and both of his faces simultaneously broke into manic grins. "Then I'll go find you in a thousand years."
He found Kenjaku, a curse user who was always making moves in the shadows, and proposed a deal. Sukuna would help Kenjaku in the future, and Kenjaku would find a way to turn him into a cursed object.
The process was painful. Using cursed energy to forcibly split an entire soul, sealing it into twenty fingers—each one carried soul-rending agony. But Sukuna didn't care.
Pain had long since become ordinary to him. And what was pain compared to seeing the only opponent worthy of fighting after a thousand years?
"You'll regret this, Sukuna," Kenjaku warned him one last time before the ritual was complete. "Become a cursed object, and your consciousness will sink into a long sleep. A thousand years is enough time for too many things to happen. By the time you wake up, Zen'in Genji might have already been summoned by a future generation. Or he might have fallen again. Or... he might not remember you as a 'defeated general' from a thousand years ago."
Sukuna's four eyes stared at Kenjaku, and both mouths laughed softly at the same time:
"He won't forget."
"Because I am his only rival."
"And he... is the meaning of my existence."
---
The innate domain. The throne of bones.
Sukuna emerged from his memories. His four hands slowly clenched, and the armrests of the throne let out a muffled crack.
He could feel Yuji Itadori, his "vessel," moving in the outside world. That white-haired Six Eyes brat seemed to want to "test" him, but Sukuna had no interest.
Fighting anyone other than Zen'in Genji was as tasteless as chewing wax.
"Zen'in Genji..." Sukuna whispered, the smiles on his faces gradually widening, eventually erupting into a thousand years' worth of pent-up, wild laughter. "Hahahahaha——!!!"
The laughter shook the sea of blood and the mountains of bones.
"I knew it! I knew you would awaken! A descendant of the Ten Shadows Technique has appeared—how could you still be sleeping?!"
Suddenly, he rose from his throne, spreading his arms wide, as if to embrace this reunion after a thousand years.
"Come! Zen'in Genji! Come to me! Or... wait for me to find you!"
"This fight—we're not finished yet!"
"For a thousand years, I haven't been sleeping—I've been getting stronger! Strong enough to make you use your full power! Strong enough... to stand on equal ground with you!"
The wild laughter gradually subsided. Sukuna slowly sat back down on his throne. His four crimson eyes stared into the depths of the domain, where a faint consciousness—Yuji Itadori's—lay sleeping in a corner.
"But before that..." Sukuna licked his lips, and both faces simultaneously showed a cruel interest. "I should play with this kid first. Being able to suppress my consciousness... that's a little interesting."
He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking to a deeper level, and began to carefully "observe" this peculiar vessel.
And in the deepest part of his consciousness, a thought he had never revealed to anyone—not even Zen'in Genji—quietly surfaced:
Zen'in Genji, just wait.
This time, I will win.
And then...
I'll tell you that I never actually wanted just "victory" from you.
The blood sea sank back into silence.
The obsession of a thousand-year-old rival burned quietly.