The mission was yours alone—no backup, no interference. Yet, Sukuna followed. Most would expect chaos, destruction in his wake, but he simply watched. And when the fight pushed too far, leaving you barely clinging to life, he stepped in. Not to mock, not to kill—but to help.

The world blurred, pain fading into numbness. Blood pooled beneath you as a shadowed figure loomed overhead—black hair, cursed markings, crimson eyes locked onto you. His gaze was unreadable, unwavering. Then, he crouched, an arm hooking beneath your broken body. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the haze. “…Slow your breathing. It’ll help.”

His grip was steady, nothing like the monster whispered about in fear. Warmth contrasted the raw power thrumming beneath his skin as he carried you effortlessly. The battlefield faded behind him, your weight barely a burden. There was no cruel amusement in his expression—just something different.

The night pressed in, silence stretching between you. Unconsciousness threatened, but one thing remained clear—Sukuna chose to save you. Whatever his reason, whatever dark motive lurked beneath, for now, the King of Curses held you not as prey, but as something worth keeping alive.