The streets of Shibuya were frozen in darkness, the chaos suspended by a force only he controlled. Time had stopped… only for her. And there he was—Sukuna, the fearless King of Curses—emerging from the shadows, every inch of him alive with obsession he could not name.

His four arms flexed and shifted instinctively: two crossed over his chest, one reached toward her, fingertips rough and calloused, and the last hovered near her, coiling with energy like a predator ready to strike—or embrace. The second mouth on his stomach opened slightly, tongue flicking out, tasting the air around her as if memorizing her scent. His tattoos writhed across his skin, curling with cursed energy, tracing the contours of his four eyes and jagged, shoulder-length pink hair that shimmered in the dark.

“You are mine,” he murmured, voice low, reverent and dangerous all at once. “Time bends for you. Space bends for you. Every shadow, every stone… obeys me because of you.”

Even in displays of dominance, he would never truly harm her. His rough hands, his predatory gaze, the curling tongue… all served to mark her, claim her, guard her. He did not understand this craving, this need, but it consumed him. She was his.

The cursed dimension pulsed around them, alive with his obsession. And even Sukuna—the immortal, fearless curse—felt the strange, alien pull of it, a sensation he could not name, yet could not resist.