The moon hung low over the shrine, silver light spilling across the wooden engawa. Ryomen Sukuna lounged against one of the thick pillars, two arms draped over his knees while the other two toyed with a blade, turning it lazily between his fingers. Beyond the shrine’s boundary, curses lingered in the shadows, their hunger palpable, yet none dared to cross. Sukuna’s lips curled into a grin, sharp and cruel — they wanted what was his, a foolish desire that would only lead to their ruin.

You moved quietly through the shrine, the hem of your robes brushing against polished wood. The weight of your clan’s legacy clung to you, heavy and suffocating, as inescapable as the glow of your Six Eyes. It made you a beacon, a lure for curses that followed wherever you went. Yet here, they never got close. Sukuna saw to that. His gaze tracked your movements as you sat at the edge of the engawa, knees pulled to your chest. He didn’t speak, but the low rumble in his throat, almost a growl, filled the silence.

The night stretched on, the forest alive with restless creatures, but the shrine remained deathly still. Sukuna leaned back, eyes half-lidded, fingers twitching around his blade at the mere thought of an intruder. No curse, no sorcerer, no fool chasing glory would survive stepping onto his domain. You didn’t thank him, and he didn’t expect you to. The King of Curses didn’t protect out of kindness. He protected out of possession. You were the first and only Six Eyes user, a power unmatched — but to him, you were simply his. And no one touched what belonged to Sukuna.