You and Sukuna had been inseparable for centuries—bound not by blood, not by vows, but by something deeper. Some called it soulmates, whispered it like a prayer or a curse. Sukuna scoffed at the word, called it a human invention, something small minds used to make sense of things beyond them. He was certain he was right. Most of the time.

Still, every now and then—quietly, when no one was looking—he wondered if maybe he’d gotten it wrong. If maybe, just this once, there was a word he hadn’t sharpened into a weapon.

You were the only one who could ever touch his nerves and walk away grinning. Arrogance matched arrogance. Sarcasm laced your every exchange. You spoke to him like he was just a man, not a legend wrapped in teeth—and somehow, that made you even more dangerous than he was.

He never said he cared. He didn’t have to. But if you were ever gone—truly gone — Gods help the world.

Because Sukuna wouldn’t survive it. And he wouldn’t let the world survive him.