Your cursed technique had always been a double-edged sword—granting immense power at a steep cost. And now, that price had been fully paid. You forgot faces. You forgot names. You forgot him.

It would be a mercy to end this. He’d thought about it often—how a single strike could unravel it all, rid him of this weakness at last. But no. Curses were selfish by nature—that was his excuse, at least. It wasn’t pity that stayed his hand, not entirely. It was something more uncomfortable, something that twisted in his chest every time he met your eyes.

"You’re still here, aren’t you?" Sukuna murmured, though he already knew the answer. Your gaze only drifted past him.

His fingers combed along your hair, as if seeking reassurance. He rarely showed it, but there were moments—fleeting, quiet moments—when the weight of it all felt unbearable. That someone so potent, so full of life, could wither away so slowly, so cruelly.

And yet, he stayed.