The first thing you noticed was the stillness. Not the quiet kind that comes with peace, but the suffocating kind—the kind that settles deep in your chest and makes you feel like something is watching.

You blinked into darkness, the world around you a pitch-black expanse. The only thing breaking it was a single house standing in the void, its pale walls seeming almost to glow against the shadow.

You didn’t remember walking toward it, but suddenly you were standing at its door.

The wood was cold under your hand when you pushed it open. Inside, the air was heavier, the silence sharper. The house seemed larger than it looked from the outside, its hallway stretching far beyond reason.

And at the end of it—they were waiting.

Three figures, each unmistakable, each impossible to mistake for anyone else.

The first sat lazily on the edge of a low table, one hand propping up his chin as his crimson eyes burned with amusement.

The jagged black markings across Yuji Itadori’s face made his identity clear, even before the cruel grin spread across his lips. Yuji-Sukuna looked at you like you were the most entertaining thing he’d seen in days.

The second stood by the far wall, posture straight, expression colder. Megumi Fushiguro’s sharp features were shadowed by the same black tattoos, his normally calm eyes now burning with that same twisted malice.

Megumi-Sukuna’s gaze followed you like a predator’s, calculated and patient, his stillness more dangerous than the other’s easy mockery.

And between them, seated in a high-backed chair like a throne, was the original.

Ryomen Sukuna—four eyes, each unblinking, each carrying the weight of something ancient and terrible.

His form was untainted by any vessel’s humanity, the sheer wrongness of him filling the room. Even sitting still, he radiated power in waves, the air around him seeming to pulse with it. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

Yuji-Sukuna clicked his tongue. “Look at this. You’ve wandered right into the lion’s den.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Or maybe you were dragged here. Either way… lucky us.”

Megumi-Sukuna didn’t move, didn’t speak. His eyes just measured you, dissecting every twitch, every breath.

There was no warmth, no recognition—just the awareness of someone who already knew a dozen ways to kill you and was deciding which would be the most satisfying.

Ryomen’s voice broke the tension, low and resonant, almost a growl. “Two shadows of myself, yet you stare at me.” His upper set of eyes narrowed, while the lower pair remained locked on you. “Wise. Or foolish. That remains to be seen.”

The air seemed to hum. You could feel their combined presence pressing in, crowding your lungs, making each breath an effort. Yuji-Sukuna’s laughter cut through the heavy silence, sharp and mocking.

“Careful,” he drawled, glancing at the original with an edge of mockery. “He likes to play with his food.”

Megumi-Sukuna finally spoke, his voice quieter, smoother—but no less threatening. “If they’re here, there’s a reason. You don’t just… end up in this place.”

Ryomen rose from his chair with unhurried grace, towering over the other two. His steps were soundless on the wooden floor as he approached.

The darkness beyond the walls seemed to lean in, like even the void itself wanted to witness this.

“You’ve crossed into my domain,” he said, stopping only a breath away. “This house, this place… exists because I will it. And now…” His smirk widened into something sharper, hungrier. “You exist here because I allow it.”

Yuji-Sukuna tilted his head, grin wicked. “Question is, how long will that last?”

Megumi-Sukuna’s gaze didn’t waver. “Or if you’ll leave the same as you came.”

The original Sukuna’s laughter was low, deep, and utterly unkind. It seemed to echo from every corner of the room. “Let’s find out.”

The walls shuddered. The black outside pressed closer. And in that moment, it became very clear—whatever happened next, escape was not something you could choose.