On the eve of Eriri's departure.
The night was deep, and the dormitory of the Tokyo Jujutsu High was quiet. After a day of training and after-class review, Yuji Itadori had already fallen asleep. Fatigue made his sleep so heavy that when a familiar, cold pull originated from the depths of his consciousness, he was almost effortlessly drawn into a world of crimson and skeletons.
The innate domain.
Beneath his feet flowed thick, churning blood water, emitting the smell of rust and cursed sweetness. The ribs of huge, unknown creatures formed pale mountains, stretching to the end of the field of vision, forming the skeleton of this domain. Atop the skeleton, on a grotesque and majestic throne made of bones—countless thick vertebrae, curved and spiraling—Sukuna propped his chin on his hand, his four crimson eyes flickering in the dim red light.
Yuji Itadori "appeared" above the blood river, scratched his short pink hair, sleepily looked up at the "landlord" on the throne.
"Ha..." Itadori yawned loudly, rubbed his eyes, and his voice carried dissatisfaction and confusion at being disturbed from sleep. "Sukuna? It's the middle of the night, why are you dragging me in here? Can't sleep and want someone to talk to? I have a test tomorrow..."
In the college's records, unlike the ruthless, cruel, and murderous Sukuna of the original story, the Sukuna of this time and space, due to the suppression of Zen'in Genji, had significantly reduced his level of killing. The original Sukuna was so bored that he could only resort to indiscriminate killing for pleasure. But the Sukuna of this world had been suppressed by Genji during his lifetime; far from being bored, Sukuna's life could be described as quite exciting. Therefore, the college's records mostly concerned Sukuna's actions of killing various cursed spirits and monsters—Sukuna's way of becoming stronger to exist.
Yuji Itadori, naturally, was not guarded or fearful of Sukuna.
His gaze naturally fell on the throne, made of various thick, sharp, and curved bones beneath Sukuna. After the initial shock passed, Itadori's train of thought took its own course.
"Speaking of which," Itadori blinked, looking at the bone throne that felt panic just from a serious look, and asked the soul a question: "You sit on that all day... doesn't it hurt? The bones look very hard and have spikes... don't you need a cushion or something? Even if you are a curse, sitting for a long time, can you get 'hemorrhoids'?"
"…"
On the skeletal throne, the hand Sukuna was using to prop up his chin almost slipped inexplicably.
His four crimson eyes stared at Itadori's face, full of both pure curiosity and concern. At this moment, a thousand-year-old King of Curses rose in his heart, a terrifying existence revered as "Ryomen Sukuna"…
He felt powerless.
"…"
Sukuna silently and slowly pressed his face into the palm of his hand beneath him. His broad shoulders trembled almost inexplicably, not from anger, but rather as a buffer after some kind of mental critical hit.
(I knew it... I knew it was my fault for trying to have a serious conversation with this idiot...)
( "Hemorrhoids"? What kind of association is that?! What brand of tofu is in this kid's head?! )
(Staying inside this single-celled organism's body... for a long time, won't my own IQ and style be lowered to the same level?! )
Sukuna frantically facepalmed internally, and after a few seconds, barely suppressed the urge to push Itadori into the sea of blood for a brainwashing session.
He lowered his hand, raised his four eyes again, and looked at Itadori's face, full of undisguised cluelessness and confusion.
"Shut up, you idiot," Sukuna's voice was low and hoarse, with forcibly suppressed anger. "I didn't drag you in here to listen to your concerns about... my 'sitting health'!"
He paused, and his four eyes looked at the empty red sky of the innate domain, as if he could break through the barriers of this conscious space and see the reality of the outside world. The irritated emotions surged again, more turbulent than the sea of blood.
"Zen'in Genji..." Sukuna almost gritted his teeth as he uttered this name, and a complex, unfathomable flame ignited in his crimson pupils—fighting spirit seethed, a desire to meet his opponent, and an extremely subtle but real... sense of being "ignored." This wasn't cool.
"That bastard... it's been two or three days since he came to the college. Eating and drinking, teaching students, playing with that glowing board (referring to the Switch)..." Sukuna's knuckles tapped on the bone armrest of the throne, emitting a dull thump, thump sound, echoing in the silent domain. "He's very leisurely!"
He suddenly turned his head, staring at Itadori's clueless face with four eyes, his tone growing more and more annoyed:
"He hasn't come to see me! Not once! He hasn't even glanced this way or felt this king's 'special-grade curse' aura! Does he think I don't exist?!"
Itadori was stunned by Sukuna's sudden outburst of anger and subconsciously replied: "Um... Gojo-sensei said that Zen'in Genji is now Eriri's shikigami, mostly following her, and seems very interested in modern things..."
"So what?!" Sukuna rudely interrupted, and the sea of blood beneath the throne churned from the mood swing. "He is Zen'in Genji! The Zen'in Genji who suppressed and beat this king a thousand years ago! He's awake, hovering right under my nose, but he hasn't even given me a single glance?! What does he mean by that? Looking down on me who only has the power of one finger now? Does he think I don't deserve for him to face me head-on?"
The more he spoke, the angrier he became. Sukuna felt that his thousand years of cultivation (even if just a little) would be exhausted in these past few days. This feeling was like an unparalleled swordsman: upon learning that his long-time enemy had revived, he immediately sharpened his blade, but the other party, after resurrecting, didn't take him seriously at all!
"Though... this king doesn't want to officially meet him in this awkward state either—mutilated and with only one finger," Sukuna's voice lowered, gritting his teeth with a slight reluctance.
He had his pride as the King of Curses, as an existence equal to Zen'in Genji (self-righteously so). He craved a top-tier confrontation with all his might, not to face an opponent who might have become stronger or mastered something new in such a weak state.
Reluctant.
But!
"If he won't come to me... I'm even more angry!!" Sukuna slapped the armrest of the throne, causing a few pale ribs to crack in response. "Why won't he come to me?! Isn't he curious about my current state? Doesn't he want to test it out? Not even to throw a few mocking words?!"
This feeling of being completely "ignored" was more infuriating than losing a direct battle. Zen'in Genji was completely immersed in "adapting to the new era," "teaching the younger generation," and "enjoying life," like a soft needle piercing his proud heart.
"This can't go on..." Sukuna took a deep breath (though he didn't need to breathe in this domain) and forced himself to calm down, but the crimson flame of fighting spirit and proof burned even brighter in his eyes.
The power of one finger was too weak and too insulting. He needed more. He had to be complete. He had to find the "Ryomen Sukuna" who was enough to make Zen'in Genji go all out!
"Twenty fingers..." Sukuna whispered to himself, his four eyes slightly narrowed, a sharp and dangerous light flashing within. "I need to find the remaining fingers as soon as possible. Get them back one by one."
He looked at Itadori, still feeling disgusted, but at this moment, an undeniable resolve was in his eyes.
"Listen, you idiot. Be more alert from now on. Keep an eye out for any news about 'special-grade cursed objects' and 'Sukuna's fingers.' If there's a chance—get it back," Sukuna ordered, his voice carrying an authority that could not be contradicted. "I'm tired of just sitting in the domain and fuming all day."
Itadori blinked, as if digesting Sukuna's furious internal monologue and the final instructions, then, showing a look of sudden understanding, nodded vigorously:
"Oh! I get it! Sukuna, you want to restore your power as soon as possible so you can go fight Lord Zen'in Genji, right?"
"…" Sukuna's lips twitched, but this time he didn't deny it. Although the statement was simple and stupid, the meaning was correct.
"But fighting is bad, we need to live in peace..." Itadori habitually tried to persuade him, then wisely shut up under Sukuna's instantly dangerous gaze, scratched his head, and smiled sheepishly. "But I'll be more alert. After all, if you get stronger, I'll be safer too, right? Oh..."
"Hmph," Sukuna snorted coldly, too lazy to say more to this thoughtless vessel. He waved his hand, and a force began to push Itadori's consciousness out of the innate domain.
"Get lost. Go to sleep. Remember what I said."
Just before Itadori's figure completely disappeared, Sukuna cast a final look at the empty red sky, and his four crimson eyes seemed to reflect the calm figure in the indigo hunting robe.
Zen'in Genji…
Wait for me.
Wait for this king to gather all twenty fingers and restore my complete form…
Next time, I won't let you be so "leisurely" again.
The sea of blood surged, and the King of Curses on the Bone Throne slowly closed his four eyes, channeling all his irritation, reluctance, and fierce fighting spirit into a deeper, predatory patience.
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