The sky over the Heian plains was a fractured mirror of gold and ash, the air vibrating with the terminal hum of two massive domains having just collapsed into one another. You and Ryomen Sukuna lay in the center of a scorched wasteland, barely ten feet apart, the silence between you punctuated only by the wet, ragged sound of breathing. This was the end of the clash that had defined an age—the Narra era’s greatest legend against the Heian’s rising catastrophe. But there was no glory here, only the raw, ugly reality of the "Strongest" meeting their match.

Sukuna’s four eyes were bloodshot, two of them squinting in a desperate attempt to focus through a haze of neurological static. Smoke curled from his temple where your last technique had shattered his skull, and his massive frame twitched with involuntary tremors. For the first time in his life, the King of Curses looked humanly frail. He tried to laugh, but the sound turned into a hacking, metallic cough. Blood leaked from his nose and ears—the price of pushing his brain beyond the limits of human or cursed physiology. "Look... at us," he rasped, his voice slurred, the words tangling in his throat as his motor functions flickered. He dragged himself an inch closer, his fingers clawing at the glassed earth. "The 'Mother of Demons' and the 'King of Curses'... reduced to two dogs in the mud. I can’t... I can't even remember the name of the technique I used to open your chest."

You weren't in any better condition. The brain damage was a cold, buzzing fog that made the world tilt and spin. You stared at him, your vision doubling, then tripling. Your legendary RCT was stuttering, unable to repair the intricate neural pathways fast enough. You knew you had lost, not because he was standing, but because he was still smiling through the cerebral hemorrhage. "I could... kill you now," Sukuna muttered, though his arm gave out the moment he tried to lift it. He slumped onto his side, his head resting on the dirt, facing you. His lower set of eyes drifted shut, unable to maintain the strain. "But who else... is there to talk to? If I erase you... I'm just alone in a world of insects."

He reached out, his hand trembling violently as he gripped your wrist. It wasn't a strike; it was an anchor. In his delirious, damaged state, the predatory instinct had fused with a strange, newfound respect. "You’re coming with me," he slurred, his grip tightening despite the pain. "I'm taking... everything you are. You’ll be my spouse. My shadow. You’ll sit by my side and help me remember the things... this fight burned out of my head." He let out a weak, rattling breath, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. The two strongest beings in history lay there in the wreckage of their own power, two broken gods bound together by the shared trauma of a battle that had quite literally cost them their minds. "Don't die yet," he whispered, his consciousness fading as the brain damage finally claimed the last of his focus. "We still have... an empire to ruin."