Just as Megumi Fushiguro closed his eyes tightly, ready to sacrifice himself and forcibly begin the ritual to summon "Mahoraga," the path leading to hell—
Within the innate domain.
Sukuna's voice echoed directly in this space of consciousness, with undisguised, almost mad irritation and... speechlessness.
"AAAAHHHH—!!!"
The lower face on Sukuna's body let out a low, suppressed roar, and his four crimson eyes stared at the connection to Megumi Fushiguro.
"Don't be so eager to die, kid!!" Sukuna suddenly slammed his hand down on the throne's armrest, making a dull thump that caused the sea of blood at his feet to churn.
He was referring to Megumi Fushiguro outside.
"Why use a butcher's knife to kill a chicken?! Huh?! Does he have sea urchin spines for brains?! "
"Mahoraga! What kind of existence is Mahoraga?! That's what that Zen'in Genji bastard said—it's his trump card! The ultimate weapon to fight someone on my level! It's not meant for some cat-and-dog cursed spirit to trample ants with!"
He seemed to grow angrier as he spoke, straightening up on his throne and gesturing with his four arms.
"Even if it's a blank-slate Mahoraga, just summoned and hasn't started 'adapting' yet, its base stats—strength, speed, cursed energy output, and resistance to cursed techniques—are at least on par with an ordinary special-grade cursed spirit! Not to mention its Sword of Extermination, which has a special effect against cursed spirits! What's the difference between that cursed spirit and a piece of fruit waiting to be chopped?!"
Sukuna seemed to recall an unpleasant memory, his tone growing even more irritated:
"And 'the aftermath'? Worried the battle might affect you? Hah! That thing outside, if Mahoraga came out and couldn't kill it in three seconds, I'd consider that shikigami the sea urchin-head summoned a rotten egg! Three seconds! Within three seconds! One sword strike—kill! Whatever that shitty domain is, slice it in half and go back to being cursed energy! Where would any 'aftermath' come from?! That kid is just insulting Mahoraga!"
In Sukuna's eyes, the special-grade cursed spirit today surviving three seconds in Mahoraga's hands would be considered a testament to Mahoraga's restraint.
He finished venting and seemed to feel a bit better.
Then, Yuji Itadori's vision, along with all his senses, was suddenly seized and snatched away by a brutal, cold force!
The crimson, viscous sea of blood, the enormous rotting bones, and the four-armed, two-faced figure sitting on the bone throne, vigorously rubbing its forehead with one of its palms.
"Listen, kid," Sukuna's voice lowered, with a clear commanding tone, but, rarely, a hint of... discussion? mixed in. "Right now, immediately, let me use your body."
Itadori's pupils contracted, and he subconsciously took half a step back, his face full of vigilance and resistance. "No! What are you going to do?! Are you trying to mess with my body again?!"
"Tch!" Sukuna smacked his lips impatiently, but seemed to suppress his anger and quickly explained. "I don't have time to play house with you! That sea urchin-head kid outside, if he dawdles for another few seconds, he really will summon Mahoraga! Then it'll be a real problem!"
He paused, looked at Itadori's still wary face, and added a promise with extreme reluctance:
"I promise, I won't hurt that sea urchin-head kid outside. I won't touch a single hair on his head. Instead, I'm going to save him, and by the way…"
Sukuna's lips grinned wide with a mad, dangerous smile, an impatient flame burning in his four eyes:
"Stretch my muscles a bit. Watching you get forced into mutual destruction because of trash like that in this crumbling domain is making me die of boredom!"
He leaned forward, and an immense sense of oppression enveloped Itadori like a physical substance:
"Give me your body. I'm going to squash that noisy fly outside. Then tell that sea urchin-head kid to stop his stupid ritual immediately! Don't let him ruin Mahoraga any further! Got it?! Huh?!"
"If Zen'in Genji found out his descendant was using Mahoraga like this, he might not even crawl out of his grave... Oh, he already has, so he'd probably be so angry he'd lie back down when he finds out!" Sukuna's complaint was still sharp, but the essence was clear: he wanted to act, resolve the crisis, and incidentally, prevent Megumi Fushiguro from "abusing" Mahoraga.
Itadori's mind raced. Outside, Megumi Fushiguro's ritual might have already started, and the special-grade cursed spirit's attack was about to collapse. Inside, Sukuna was rarely reasoning and had promised not to harm Megumi Fushiguro. Although the credibility of a promise from the King of Curses was still questionable...
Itadori was seen quickly clasping his hands in front of his chest, fingers together, palms facing each other, posing in a very standard posture, almost a prayer. He slightly bowed his head, trying to squeeze out a smile he thought was his most sincere, harmless, even a little "please," and blinked his big blue eyes twice, trying to emit a light of "trust" and "gratitude."
Then, he clearly stated, in a tone completely different from his usual earnest enthusiasm—deliberately soft, light, and even a little coquettish:
"Okay~~! Then please, Sukuna-sama—!"
The last "sama" was also deliberately drawn out, his tone respectful, as if addressing a revered elder.
"…"
On the bone throne, Sukuna, who had been leaning forward awaiting a response, had his four crimson eyes "nailed" to Itadori's face, full of "well-behaved.jpg" and "please.gif," without blinking.
Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds in the innate domain.
No expected irritated "long-windedness," no mocking "idiot," not even a hint of pride or sinister laughter after the agreement.
Sukuna's face reflected an extremely rare, almost blank expression.
The corners of his mouths seemed to twitch almost inexplicably—the corners that had been slightly upturned, ready to receive the "fool's consent," froze there. The corners accustomed to wild laughter.
An extremely complex emotion, like thick ink dripping into still water, slowly coalesced from the depths of Sukuna's consciousness, accumulated over a thousand years, which should have only been brutal and mad.
In this feeling, there was a hint of absurdity: "Has this kid finally lost his mind?"
He closed his four eyes.
As if he didn't want to look at the "fool" with his hands clasped again.
Then, the familiar, cold, brutal dragging force came again, pushing Itadori's consciousness out of the innate domain.
Just before his consciousness completely faded, Itadori seemed to hear a very soft, almost inaudible sound from Sukuna, somewhere between a cold snort and a sigh.
"…"
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