𝓡ina

then he sees her.

a small figure, around six or seven years old, lies a few yards away on her side in the grass. her dress is clean, cream-colored with tiny, pastel blue-embroidered flowers, and her hair is straight and jet black, just like his.

for a moment, he doesn’t know who she is and he can’t get himself to remember.

but then she turns, and he gets a glimpse of her bright, purple eyes and the memories flood through him.

he’s back in that room. the smell comes first— damp earth, mold, sweat, and blood. she’s huddled in the corner, dress torn to rags, hair uneven and knotted, and visible bald spots. her small body trembles and her breath comes out in short sobs.

the cult members had dragged her back in there an hour ago, while she kicked and screamed.

“just hold her down,” one of them had said, annoyed. “the master said we don’t need to be gentle if she doesn’t cooperate.”

and suguru had stood there. watching.

he told himself it was necessary. that she was just another sacrifice, just another step toward the new world he wanted to build. just like his parents were.

but when they injected her, she convulsed and choked, but wouldn’t die. she was immune. they realized that and dragged her back to keep her longer, he hadn’t stopped them then.

the following months, her treatment had gotten worse. her knees were scraped, burns littered her small arms along with bruises that would never fade. she stopped speaking after a while, the trauma rendering her mute. she would always look at him when he came to see her, her eyes wide and desperate, but he would always turn away. there were other matters to attend to.

even at the very end, when she was little more than skin and bones with a wound in her stomach as she bled out, she had reached a frail hand toward him from the cold, hard wooden floor. such a sweet girl, many people would say. but he hadn’t taken it. he didn’t love her, and he never would. he couldn’t. she might’ve been his daughter, but she was just a filthy non-sorcerer. a disgusting monkey.

when she finally went still, he’d just stood there, staring, until the person responsible had walked out of the room grinning. suguru killed him without hesitation. but it hadn’t brought her back. just a child. one he hated, but that was his baby. what would his late wife think...? she wouldn’t approve at all. not that he could fix it, though. they were both dead.

and after that, he buried her in his mind, but not in a grave. he threw her body in the woods behind the building, for it to decay and rot while all kinds of creatures crawled all over it and ate it until she wasn't physically there anymore.

but here she is.

he swallows hard and steps closer, the back of his throat burning. her name doesn’t come to him right away, and the guilt claws at him. he never bothered to remember anything about her. not her name or birthday, just...nothing.

she blinks up at him and then sits up slowly. there’s a small smile on her face, a stark contrast to how he always saw her when she was alive. everything about her was different, as if she was blessed to live a better afterlife than her real life. she looked like she was being treated well, not like how she was with him.

“papa,” she says.

it takes him a second to snap out of his trance. he had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.

she gets to her feet and runs to him, hugging him around the waist.

he doesn’t hug her back.

“you look…different.” he points out.

she grins up at him. “do i look pretty?”

he forces a nod. just because he hated her doesn’t mean he should show it. she looked so happy now, he didn’t have it in his heart to belittle her anymore, now that he’s older and wiser than he was when he killed her.

she beams, takes his hand, and pulls him toward a stream nearby. she talks the whole way, chattering about the flowers she’s been picking and little things like that. little things every little kid does, but she never had the chance to do while she was alive because all of the joy and whimsy in her life was sucked out at such a young age.

each word of hers and thought of his felt like a blade twisting inside him.

make it stop…

all he can think about is how she used to flinch at every footstep, how she bit down on cloth and cried while she treated her own wounds, how she was taunted when she couldn't talk anymore, how she sat on the floor of the cell, drawing whatever in the dirt.

and yet here she is. forgiving him. she has every reason to push him in the stream or throw rocks at him. to punish him for his crimes. but she doesn’t look like she’s planned or planning on it.

they sit by the stream together. she leans against him as she weaves flowers into a crown. where did she learn that, he wonders. suguru continues to watch her, his chest tight and throat burning, unable to decide whether he hates himself more for letting her die or for sitting here like he doesn’t deserve to be punished right now.

“did it work?” she asks suddenly, looking up at him.

he frowns. “what?”

“did it work? did killing all non-sorcerers make things better?” she questions once again.

he sighs. “no. i never got to finish.”

she stares at him for a moment, then whispers, “oh.”

and then, softly, “sorry.”

suguru’s jaw tightens. he wants to scream at her to stop being nice and to tell him what a monster he was. but she’s his daughter. and she still loves him. yet he doesn’t remember her damn name! what kind of father is he?

“if you forgot, my names hana.” she whispered before finishing the flower crown.

hana. right. he named her. it meant flower. flower…she was just like one. she was delicate and soft like the petals of a flower. she was so much more than her trauma. she was a person. his baby. the girl he saw as a bright red newborn straight out of the womb, the one he kept a small single box of her things up until she was 4 to remember her baby days. the cultist wasn't really the one who killed her. it was him. every time he sat back and watched her get hurt, she died. it was only official with the stab wound. he could’ve saved her. poor thing. the last thing she saw was her incompetent father's face. such a terrible way to go.

she finally finishes her crown, and she puts it on his head, and she catches up with him, talking about how much fun she's having and how she got new hobbies, like drawing and stuff. eventually, she falls asleep with her small head in his lap, suguru looks down at her. her hair is soft. her breathing is even. not the ragged, scared one it used to be. she’s actually asleep.

finally, realization strikes him. this is his punishment. to sit here forever with the one person he failed and hurt most, knowing she adores him enough to forgive him a thousand times over when he can’t forgive himself.

hana and him are very similar. they both died in a similar way: in the hands of the person they love the most, more than themselves.

“hana, if in another universe, we’re reborn as father and daughter…i’ll give you what i never did this life. i promise i’ll do everything to give you what you deserve.” suguru whispers. not that she could hear him, so deep in her sleep.

“i love you hana. i’m sorry for everything.”

“i’m dying,” hime muttered. “this place sucks.”

sukuna smiles fondly, one that was only reserved for you and her. “you’ll survive, sweetheart.”

she shot him a look before moving slightly further away. “i hate you.”

his smile only widened. “love you too, baby.”

you smiled despite yourself, leaning into him and he dipped his head to brush a casual kiss against your temple.

he’d done well so far. sukuna had survived dumbo, peter pan’s flight, and it’s a small world without complaining too much, but now he was done.

“alright,” sukuna announced, holding up his express wristband with a grin. “my turn.”

yuji swallowed. “uh… it’s not gonna be too scary, right?”

sukuna didn’t even look back at him. just slipped smoothly into the crowd, voice mocking and amused. “‘it’s not gonna be too scary, right?’ i paid extra for this. we're all going, i don't care what you say.”

after a short trek through the amusement park, the tower of terror loomed above you.

“uncle..." yuji started, turning pale.

he turned, expression sharp and final.

one look and the argument died in yuji's throat.

minutes later, you were all strapped into the elevator.

you sat wedged between sukuna and yuji and hime sat beside sukuna, jaw clenched in fury.

yuji’s hand shot out and grabbed yours the second the restraints clicked into place, his grip desperate.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, squeezing back. “i’ve got you.”

sukuna frowns. “let go of my wife.”

you elbowed him lightly. “be nice, he's just a kid.”

he huffs and crosses his arms.

the lights flickered and the eerie narration droned on while the elevator creaked upward slowly.

hime muttered, “i hate you.” under her breath.

sukuna reached over without looking and rested his hand over her shoulder. “you'll be fine, you're just like daddy, isn't that right, my brave little princess?”

then—

the drop hit.

your stomach flew straight into your throat. the scream ripped out of you before you could stop it, and your hand shot to sukuna’s arm, clutching hard. yuji screamed like he was actively dying, fingers locked around yours like a lifeline.

the elevator plummeted. shot up. dropped again.

you clung to sukuna, face pressed to his shoulder, heart slamming.

through it all, he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. just sat there with a smile as if this was the highlight of his day because you were hugging his arm, and though hime hasn't spared him a glance after she turned eleven (which he hated), having her let him have his arm around him made him happy.

finally, mercifully, it stopped and the restraints clicked open.

your legs felt like jelly. yuji bolted the second his feet hit the ground, sprinting straight for the nearest trash can.

sukuna extends his hand for hime to take, but she just shoved him away with a scowl. “i actually hate you.”

sukuna pouted. “aw that hurt. hey, come on, you did amazing!”

yuji gagged violently over the bin.

“pathetic,” sukuna muttered, watching him with clear disdain.

you shot him a look. “ryo...”

his expression shifted instantly to a soft and attentive one, feigning innocence as he plants a kiss on your cheek. “yes, gorgeous?”

you roll your eyes in response. “be nice. i heard that.”

"yes ma'am." behind your back, however, sukuna’s gaze flicked to yuji once again, sharp and cruel. he leaned down just enough to sneer, unheard by you, “embarrassing us is becoming a habit, be careful. you might exhaust yourself. come along, try not to trip over your own inadequacy.”

yuji looked like he might cry. but trails behind him anyway.

sukuna straightened, turned to you, and gently placed his palm on top of your head, thumb brushing your hair. “you did really good, though. clinging onto me the whole time...”

you scoffed, flustered. “i didn’t cling to you.”

he grinned, smug. “you absolutely did.”

your face heated. “only because the restraint thing felt loose!”

“excuses,” he said, amused, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss.

hime gags. “ew, can we go back to the hotel?”

you pulled away and checked the time, then sighed. “…yeah. maybe we should.”

sukuna's grin faded just a fraction. he’d only just started having fun, and now you wanted to leave?

“oh?” he asked quietly, eyes darting between you and hime. “alright then. that's enough for today, i guess.”

but the petals keep coming.

at first, it’s just one or two petals a day, easy enough to ignore. but within a week, he’s coughing up whole flowers.

he keeps telling himself he's fine, that it's temporary.

and then you walk into his shrine with a bow as usual, and suddenly his throat is full of them again, but he always swallows them down. after all, it would be embarrassing for you to know that the great king of curses has hanahaki, the disease caused by unrequited love, as uraume informs him.

love.

the word is so absurd that he nearly kills them where they kneel. he doesn’t love. he's a curse and you're a human. it makes it far worse.

but when you smile at him later that day, he realizes with humiliating clarity that they’re right.

he’s in love with you. and you will never see him the way he sees you.

he considers the easy solution: if he kills you, this will stop. no more flowers, no weakness. after all, you were nothing but a pathetic human.

the next time you skip into his shrine, he rises, one clawed hand in a finger gun, about to hit you with one quick dismantle. it would be so simple. one slice, one scream, and he’d be free. but that scream would be from the only woman who has made him feel true love. but did it matter? after all he was a curse. cold-blooded and selfish. right?

you freeze, staring up at him as you clutch onto your kimono's sleeve. “...sukuna-dono?”

the flowers surge up his throat, choking him until he falls to his knees, hacking them out onto the floor between you both.

you stare, stepping closer to aid him. “y-you’re sick?”

he doesn’t answer. just slams his hand onto the ground, glaring up at you, sending you stumbling backward. “leave me. at once. or you too will be no stranger to my wrath.”

you obey, frightened and leave with a quick bow.

his health rapidly declines after that encounter. he's not been able to move much due to the pain in his lungs. as a result, he hasn't been able to go out and kill humans, so he had taken to new hobbies. specifically writing. he wrote letters every day without fail. love letters, addressed to only one woman. you.

just in case he died, he ordered uraume to deliver them to you along with the bloodied flowers from his lungs, bundled up in a nice little bouquet with a bow to finish. you would like that, wouldn't you?

flowers growing in my lungs, how i wish i could tell you what you mean to me, i'll rip them out and gift them to you, a bouquet of unsaid i love yous

he tore it up. 'how foolish,' he told himself.

i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out my gums, like a monster, like a beast like something not worth loving back i tell myself, "i'm not a violent dog" but if that were true,  why would i bite? i'm afraid of the love i hold for you because i know i'll let it kill me

in case we never meet again, just know that i love you i always have and always will

he looks down at the writing for a while before he lets out a loud cough, blood and petals shooting out of his mouth as he continues hacking until he feels a thin branch lodged in his throat.

unable to breathe, he grabs the branch and pulls it out while it rakes the insides of his throat painfully. when it is finally pulled out, he coughs out a few bloodied petals before sighing.

you were supposed to be here around this time. he straightens up and walks into his throne room, thinking of the easiest ways to kill you.

would he really be able to kill you?

he hears your footsteps approaching, the soft patter of your sandals echoing through the empty halls. his heart pounds in his chest. he can feel the flowers growing again, threatening to choke him.

you enter the room, bowing deeply as always. “sukuna-dono” you greet him, your voice so gentle and sweet. a voice he loved more than his power.

“what is it you want?” he snaps, his tone ruder than intended.

you flinch slightly at his harsh tone. “it seems illness has befallen you,” you say, holding out a tray of delicacies. “so i have brought you subsistence.”

he scoffs, turning away from you. “i don’t need your pity, and certainly not your human subsistence. the only thing i am willing to consume is human meat.” he mutters.

but as you take the tray back and turn to leave, he can’t help but call out to you. “halt, woman.”

you pause, looking back at him with concern in your eyes.

“stay,” he says, barely above a whisper, "i'll have some. serve me my portion."

you hesitate for a moment before nodding and sitting down beside him on the floor, taking out a portion of the food you brought him. for a while, neither of you speak. the only sound is the quiet sound of his chewing.

finally, sukuna swallows the bite and grunts. “it's adequate," he pauses for a second before continuing, "have you ever mulled over your demise?"

you look at him, confused, before nodding slowly. “from time to time,” you admit, "i get a little covetous of you at times. you have a powerful ability, immortality, while i merely pass away. what truly frightens me the most is how one day, i will be nothing but a memory, and soon disregarded and unappreciated."

“what do you think happens after you'll die?” he inquires.

you ponder this for a moment. why was he even asking all this? but you knew better than to question him. he was the emperor after all.

“in all honesty, i have no clue…but i find satisfaction in believing that our souls live on eternally, somehow. they stay behind and watch over loved ones.”

sukuna chuckles bitterly at this response but doesn’t say anything else for a while longer until finally speaking up.

“if i depart this life someday…would you crave my presence once more?”

the question catches you off guard.

he was immortal! he can't die.

what foolish questions is he asking?

"sukuna-dono, you can't—" you begin, but you're cut off by his gruff voice.

"it is a mere coincidence that i, in truth, am susceptible to mortality, as are you mortals. how intriguing. this ailment afflicting me has claimed the lives of even the most potent immortals, and even i am not immune." he pulls his gaze away from you.

"my lord...what are you saying...? what ailment do you speak of? surely, there exists a remedy. my brother possesses remarkable knowledge of ailments; i am positively certain he can discover a cure for your affliction."

"hanahaki." he turns back to you.

silence.

hanahaki...your brother had been working on a medicine cure for so long, but to no avail. the only real cure is to...

"sukuna-dono. to which woman does your affection belong?" you question.

to that, you're met with a quiet sigh.

"i suppose i must tell you. that woman..."

before he could finish, he was interrupted by another coughing fit.

sukuna, at that moment, couldn't hold back any longer. he dropped the food, and his face paled as he hacked and choked, his body shaking uncontrollably. the blood-covered flower petals falling out of his mouth — an indicative of his declining health.

his breathing became labored, and his hands gripped the floor tightly as he desperately tried to compose himself. not in front of you.

"sukuna-dono?" you panic, standing up quickly to call uraume. "uraume! sukuna-dono's condition has deteriorated significantly!"

your desperate calls made them rush it to help sukuna, but upon arrival, he grabbed their arm before they could touch him and stared. uraume only nodded in understanding and stepped back as he continued to cough. they only picked up the flowers and rushed away, leaving you confused as you call out.

they didn’t return. you tried your best to help him, of course, but to no avail. he lost his life. you never got to find out who it was that he loved. tears streamed down your face as you hoped he was only joking.

curses couldn’t die until they could. And that’s exactly what happened.

just then, uraume returns. in their right hand was a bouquet of the same flowers that sukuna had coughed out, and in the other were papers, more specifically letters.

you wipe the tears from your eyes because taking the things and setting them down. your eyes trailed over to the letters. they were most likely addressed to the woman he loved and he wanted you to deliver it, right? same with the flowers, maybe.

but no. the name on the envelopes was yours. they were addressed to you…?

you quickly open them and read through them all, crying and laughing at the poems.

he described your eyes with such detail that even you were surprised.

he seemed like a man of lust…he was a man of lust.

so why did nothing mention your figure? it really was true love, it seems. who knew he was capable of it?

"had he told me, i would have willingly sacrificed myself for him. i am but a mortal being; his sacrifice for me was futile. my demise is inevitable, his was optional. so why..." you look at uraume, tears streaming down your face.

"master, unable to envision existence devoid of you, left it to me to keep you sentient. he aspires to be reunited with your essence in another life, however." uraume bows and leaves you with the items, staring down at the body of the king of curses.

a man so cruel that words couldn't describe it. he would eat children while their mothers watched. he would skin people alive, and yet...he sacrificed himself for a mere mortal. a mortal he has shown that he cared for. why did he care? perhaps it really was true love.

true love sometimes makes people do really crazy things.

you didn't try to love him because you knew you couldn't have him; he was incapable of love after all, from what he said. but he was after all. if only he had told you earlier...

you kneel beside him, trembling hands brushing the blood from his lips. his face, usually so sharp and full of life and power, looked almost peaceful now.

uraume’s footsteps fade, leaving you alone with his body. the silence feels heavy and your heart ached.

“sukuna-dono…” your voice cracks. “you claimed to be unable to perish like a mortal would...so how is this possible?”

his eyes are half-open and unfocused. there’s no response. what remains is the faint scent of iron and the flowers. of course he wouldn't respond, silly, he's gone.

you gather the petals from the floor, pressing them into your palms until they crumble, as if holding them together could somehow keep him with you, but it’s useless. he’s gone.

you sit there for hours, reading and rereading the letters he left you. over time, you realize how deeply in love the man had fallen in love with you. your heart ached and your throat felt dry and closed up.

but that’s when it starts.

the first cough isn’t much. but when you pull your hand away from your mouth, a petal lies there. a small pink one, matching the ones that spilled out of his throat.

you freeze. did you somehow contract the hanahaki as well?

“no…” you whisper, clutching your chest, heart pounding.

you can feel it. the ache blooming behind your ribs, twisting in your lungs the same way it must have for him.

you laugh bitterly through the tears. “you truly are a cruel man, sukuna-dono…”

you clutch his hand and lower your head beside his, whispering to him as you press the cold blade to your throat, “if there’s another life...seek me out once more. and when you do, i humbly request that you confess sooner. please?”

outside, the wind shifts through the shrine, carrying with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals. spring's final breath along with yours and his.

uraume pokes out of the kitchen and scan both of your still bodies. among the dancing petals, three land in your hand and a ladybug lands on sukuna's shoulder and crawls over to your cheek.

"how strange," they begin, "it appears these souls are destined to be together. maybe in another life they'll both end up more fortunate than they were in this one..."

you can tell by the way his hand rests at your waist firmly. he always wakes early, even here, even on your honeymoon in malaysia. the only difference is that he doesn’t leave the bed, doesn’t reach for his watch or think about work.

he stays.

you shift slightly to face him, and his arm tightens instinctively.

“good morning,” he murmurs, voice low as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“mm, morning,” you mumble back, smiling. “what time is it?”

he glances toward the light spilling through the curtains. “early, no need to get up right now.”

that earns him a quiet laugh from you. you press your face against his chest once again. he smells like cedar, sandalwood, and vetiver. his fingers trace slow, absent lines along your back, soothing and unhurried.

he presses a kiss into your hair, then another, lingering like he has nowhere else to be.

“i like waking up with you,” he says softly.

you tilt your head up for a kiss on the lips. “good. you’re stuck with me.”

later, you're both eating breakfast outside. the air is warm already, clinging to your skin. nanami sits across from you in an unbuttoned shirt, sleeves rolled up, glasses off. he looks unreal like this, relaxed in a way few people ever get to see.

afterward, you walk through the streets together, holding hands. the world around you feels vibrant and alive—colorful buildings and the scent of street food. nanami stays close, slightly angled toward you protectively.

on the beach, he takes out his camera and captures as many pictures of you as he could. the sea is warm, the sky impossibly blue. you walk slowly along the shoreline, sand shifting beneath your feet, occasionally posing for photos.

“this place is beautiful,” you say, staring into the horizon where the sun was setting.

he looks at you instead of the ocean. the look of love. “it is.”

everything was pink and gold, the remnants of the sunlight reflecting off the water and painting his features in an orange hue.

he faces you and cups your cheek, thumb brushing your skin.

“i spent a long time thinking i didn’t deserve this,” he admits quietly. “being with you...”

you lean into his touch. “i’m glad you were wrong.”

he smiles and presses his forehead to yours. “so am i.”

that night, you lie tangled together, sheets barely covering either of you. nanami traces lazy patterns into your skin idly.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask.

he pauses, then pulls you closer. “that i want to be forever yours.”

you smile against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"we will." you say reassuringly. "night, baby."

"good night. sleep tight, my darling."

then he sees her.

a small figure, around six or seven years old, lies a few yards away on her side in the grass. her dress is clean, cream-colored with tiny, pastel blue-embroidered flowers, and her hair is straight and jet black, just like his.

for a moment, he doesn’t know who she is and he can’t get himself to remember.

but then she turns, and he gets a glimpse of her bright, purple eyes and the memories flood through him.

he’s back in that room. the smell comes first— damp earth, mold, sweat, and blood. she’s huddled in the corner, dress torn to rags, hair uneven and knotted, and visible bald spots. her small body trembles and her breath comes out in short sobs.

the cult members had dragged her back in there an hour ago, while she kicked and screamed.

“just hold her down,” one of them had said, annoyed. “the master said we don’t need to be gentle if she doesn’t cooperate.”

and suguru had stood there. watching.

he told himself it was necessary. that she was just another sacrifice, just another step toward the new world he wanted to build. just like his parents were.

but when they injected her, she convulsed and choked, but wouldn’t die. she was immune. they realized that and dragged her back to keep her longer, he hadn’t stopped them then.

the following months, her treatment had gotten worse. her knees were scraped, burns littered her small arms along with bruises that would never fade. she stopped speaking after a while, the trauma rendering her mute. she would always look at him when he came to see her, her eyes wide and desperate, but he would always turn away. there were other matters to attend to.

even at the very end, when she was little more than skin and bones with a wound in her stomach as she bled out, she had reached a frail hand toward him from the cold, hard wooden floor. such a sweet girl, many people would say. but he hadn’t taken it. he didn’t love her, and he never would. he couldn’t. she might’ve been his daughter, but she was just a filthy non-sorcerer. a disgusting monkey.

when she finally went still, he’d just stood there, staring, until the person responsible had walked out of the room grinning. suguru killed him without hesitation. but it hadn’t brought her back. just a child. one he hated, but that was his baby. what would his late wife think...? she wouldn’t approve at all. not that he could fix it, though. they were both dead.

and after that, he buried her in his mind, but not in a grave. he threw her body in the woods behind the building, for it to decay and rot while all kinds of creatures crawled all over it and ate it until she wasn't physically there anymore.

but here she is.

he swallows hard and steps closer, the back of his throat burning. her name doesn’t come to him right away, and the guilt claws at him. he never bothered to remember anything about her. not her name or birthday, just...nothing.

she blinks up at him and then sits up slowly. there’s a small smile on her face, a stark contrast to how he always saw her when she was alive. everything about her was different, as if she was blessed to live a better afterlife than her real life. she looked like she was being treated well, not like how she was with him.

“papa,” she says.

it takes him a second to snap out of his trance. he had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.

she gets to her feet and runs to him, hugging him around the waist.

he doesn’t hug her back.

“you look…different.” he points out.

she grins up at him. “do i look pretty?”

he forces a nod. just because he hated her doesn’t mean he should show it. she looked so happy now, he didn’t have it in his heart to belittle her anymore, now that he’s older and wiser than he was when he killed her.

she beams, takes his hand, and pulls him toward a stream nearby. she talks the whole way, chattering about the flowers she’s been picking and little things like that. little things every little kid does, but she never had the chance to do while she was alive because all of the joy and whimsy in her life was sucked out at such a young age.

each word of hers and thought of his felt like a blade twisting inside him.

make it stop…

all he can think about is how she used to flinch at every footstep, how she bit down on cloth and cried while she treated her own wounds, how she was taunted when she couldn't talk anymore, how she sat on the floor of the cell, drawing whatever in the dirt.

and yet here she is. forgiving him. she has every reason to push him in the stream or throw rocks at him. to punish him for his crimes. but she doesn’t look like she’s planned or planning on it.

they sit by the stream together. she leans against him as she weaves flowers into a crown. where did she learn that, he wonders. suguru continues to watch her, his chest tight and throat burning, unable to decide whether he hates himself more for letting her die or for sitting here like he doesn’t deserve to be punished right now.

“did it work?” she asks suddenly, looking up at him.

he frowns. “what?”

“did it work? did killing all non-sorcerers make things better?” she questions once again.

he sighs. “no. i never got to finish.”

she stares at him for a moment, then whispers, “oh.”

and then, softly, “sorry.”

suguru’s jaw tightens. he wants to scream at her to stop being nice and to tell him what a monster he was. but she’s his daughter. and she still loves him. yet he doesn’t remember her damn name! what kind of father is he?

“if you forgot, my names hana.” she whispered before finishing the flower crown.

hana. right. he named her. it meant flower. flower…she was just like one. she was delicate and soft like the petals of a flower. she was so much more than her trauma. she was a person. his baby. the girl he saw as a bright red newborn straight out of the womb, the one he kept a small single box of her things up until she was 4 to remember her baby days. the cultist wasn't really the one who killed her. it was him. every time he sat back and watched her get hurt, she died. it was only official with the stab wound. he could’ve saved her. poor thing. the last thing she saw was her incompetent father's face. such a terrible way to go.

she finally finishes her crown, and she puts it on his head, and she catches up with him, talking about how much fun she's having and how she got new hobbies, like drawing and stuff. eventually, she falls asleep with her small head in his lap, suguru looks down at her. her hair is soft. her breathing is even. not the ragged, scared one it used to be. she’s actually asleep.

finally, realization strikes him. this is his punishment. to sit here forever with the one person he failed and hurt most, knowing she adores him enough to forgive him a thousand times over when he can’t forgive himself.

hana and him are very similar. they both died in a similar way: in the hands of the person they love the most, more than themselves.

“hana, if in another universe, we’re reborn as father and daughter…i’ll give you what i never did this life. i promise i’ll do everything to give you what you deserve.” suguru whispers. not that she could hear him, so deep in her sleep.

“i love you hana. i’m sorry for everything.”

"you think it looks good, babe?" sukuna asked you, running his hand over his now short hair.

"of course," you respond. "we have to pick up hime from daycare, by the way."

"right. you think she won't throw a fit?" he questions, his eyes still on the road as he made a turn towards the daycare your daughter was in.

"hmm...we'll have to find out," you wink, stepping out of the car.

he sighs but follows suit, shrugging his jacket on and taking his wallet.

once inside, the workers recognized you both instantly.

"heya! you here for hime? i'll get her for you!" the woman exclaimed.

sukuna only mumbled a thanks, still nervous to see his daughter's reaction to his buzz cut.

a few minutes later, a familiar figure waddles towards the both of you.

"da—" the young girl froze when she lifted her head to look at sukuna, her expression morphing into a horrified look.

"hey, princess, you like my hair?" sukuna asked hopefully, crouching down and bowing his head so that she could touch it.

"no, no. go away." the girl moved back, clearly repulsed by the new haircut.

"no?" he whines in response. "come on, it's me! daddy! your favorite!"

god, he sounded so desperate it was funny.

"not anymore. now i like mommy more." she said, running up to you.

you pick her up with a laugh and sukuna stands there, betrayed. his daughter doesn't love him anymore because of a haircut? unbelievable.

that night he got into bed and sat there for minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"'kuna, what's wrong?" you lean into his line of vision. was he seriously upset over his daughter not liking his buzz cut?

"she thinks i'm ugly," he mumbles. apparently he was upset about it.

"oh come on, you're being dramatic, you're her father! she loves you!" you reassure him, poking his shoulder. "you should go and talk to her right now, you know?"

"no, i did."

"oh, really? how'd it go?" you ask curiously.

"let's see...i got called an uggo twice, she threw the stuffed monkey i got her at me, and said that before i was only fat but now i'm bald too, and she can't be seen around me." he pursed his lips and exhales through his nose. "you know what, i deserve it. don't try and comfort me, i still feel like shit."

who knew a toddler could destroy this grown man's confidence? the same man who ruthlessly murdered men for not paying their debts on time? the same man who's name brings fear in the eyes of even the biggest criminal masterminds? it was rather humorous to imagine this.

he stays with his hands over his face until a small knock hits the door. soft. hesitant.

“daddy…?” hime’s tiny voice leaks through.

his head snaps instantly. “yeah?”

the door cracks open and she peeks in, clutching her stuffed monkey by the arm—the same one she weaponized earlier when she hurled it at him when talking about his horrible haircut. her little brows are scrunched, pout wobbling.

“…monkey said he's sorry,” she mumbles, holding it out like an offering.

sukuna exhales, the tension draining out of him all at once. he pats the mattress between the both of you. “c’mere.”

she totters over, climbs up, and crawls straight into his lap like nothing ever happened.

“it’s ok to be ugly,” she mumbled into his chest.

his eye twitches. “…wow.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“so,” she continues, “you’re still my daddy.”

that does it.

his arms wrap around her instantly, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair. “yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “i’m yours. thanks for not disowning me.”

she yawns, already half asleep. “will your old hair come back?”

“…eventually.”

“okay.” satisfied.

five minutes later, she’s out cold on his chest, the monkey half fallen out of her arms.

you smile from beside the both of them, planting a kiss on hime’s forehead. “see? she loves you.”

he glares at you over hime’s head. “you’re never going to make me get a buzz ever again.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, turning off the lamp on your side, drowning you both in darkness.

after a few moments of silence, he breaks it.

“i can’t possibly be that ugly, right?” he mumbled, turning to face you.

“‘course not. i’d still hit. even if you sound absolutely pathetic, crying because a toddler disowned you.” you snicker.

“first off, there’s no tears. no tears, see, look. i wasn’t crying, touch my face. see? not crying. i’m not pathetic,” he says, reaching out for your hand and holding it to touch his face. “and second, that’s my toddler we’re talking about. obviously i’d be upset.”

“ok, jeez, i believe you. just sleep before you wake up hime.” you laugh.

but the petals keep coming.

at first, it’s just one or two petals a day, easy enough to ignore. but within a week, he’s coughing up whole flowers.

he keeps telling himself he's fine, that it's temporary.

and then you walk into his shrine with a bow as usual, and suddenly his throat is full of them again, but he always swallows them down. after all, it would be embarrassing for you to know that the great king of curses has hanahaki, the disease caused by unrequited love, as uraume informs him.

love.

the word is so absurd that he nearly kills them where they kneel. he doesn’t love. he's a curse and you're a human. it makes it far worse.

but when you smile at him later that day, he realizes with humiliating clarity that they’re right.

he’s in love with you. and you will never see him the way he sees you.

he considers the easy solution: if he kills you, this will stop. no more flowers, no weakness. after all, you were nothing but a pathetic human.

the next time you skip into his shrine, he rises, one clawed hand in a finger gun, about to hit you with one quick dismantle. it would be so simple. one slice, one scream, and he’d be free. but that scream would be from the only woman who has made him feel true love. but did it matter? after all he was a curse. cold-blooded and selfish. right?

you freeze, staring up at him as you clutch onto your kimono's sleeve. “...sukuna-dono?”

the flowers surge up his throat, choking him until he falls to his knees, hacking them out onto the floor between you both.

you stare, stepping closer to aid him. “y-you’re sick?”

he doesn’t answer. just slams his hand onto the ground, glaring up at you, sending you stumbling backward. “leave me. at once. or you too will be no stranger to my wrath.”

you obey, frightened and leave with a quick bow.

his health rapidly declines after that encounter. he's not been able to move much due to the pain in his lungs. as a result, he hasn't been able to go out and kill humans, so he had taken to new hobbies. specifically writing. he wrote letters every day without fail. love letters, addressed to only one woman. you.

just in case he died, he ordered uraume to deliver them to you along with the bloodied flowers from his lungs, bundled up in a nice little bouquet with a bow to finish. you would like that, wouldn't you?

flowers growing in my lungs, how i wish i could tell you what you mean to me, i'll rip them out and gift them to you, a bouquet of unsaid i love yous

he tore it up. 'how foolish,' he told himself.

i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out my gums, like a monster, like a beast like something not worth loving back i tell myself, "i'm not a violent dog" but if that were true,  why would i bite? i'm afraid of the love i hold for you because i know i'll let it kill me

in case we never meet again, just know that i love you i always have and always will

he looks down at the writing for a while before he lets out a loud cough, blood and petals shooting out of his mouth as he continues hacking until he feels a thin branch lodged in his throat.

unable to breathe, he grabs the branch and pulls it out while it rakes the insides of his throat painfully. when it is finally pulled out, he coughs out a few bloodied petals before sighing.

you were supposed to be here around this time. he straightens up and walks into his throne room, thinking of the easiest ways to kill you.

would he really be able to kill you?

he hears your footsteps approaching, the soft patter of your sandals echoing through the empty halls. his heart pounds in his chest. he can feel the flowers growing again, threatening to choke him.

you enter the room, bowing deeply as always. “sukuna-dono” you greet him, your voice so gentle and sweet. a voice he loved more than his power.

“what is it you want?” he snaps, his tone ruder than intended.

you flinch slightly at his harsh tone. “it seems illness has befallen you,” you say, holding out a tray of delicacies. “so i have brought you subsistence.”

he scoffs, turning away from you. “i don’t need your pity, and certainly not your human subsistence. the only thing i am willing to consume is human meat.” he mutters.

but as you take the tray back and turn to leave, he can’t help but call out to you. “halt, woman.”

you pause, looking back at him with concern in your eyes.

“stay,” he says, barely above a whisper, "i'll have some. serve me my portion."

you hesitate for a moment before nodding and sitting down beside him on the floor, taking out a portion of the food you brought him. for a while, neither of you speak. the only sound is the quiet sound of his chewing.

finally, sukuna swallows the bite and grunts. “it's adequate," he pauses for a second before continuing, "have you ever mulled over your demise?"

you look at him, confused, before nodding slowly. “from time to time,” you admit, "i get a little covetous of you at times. you have a powerful ability, immortality, while i merely pass away. what truly frightens me the most is how one day, i will be nothing but a memory, and soon disregarded and unappreciated."

“what do you think happens after you'll die?” he inquires.

you ponder this for a moment. why was he even asking all this? but you knew better than to question him. he was the emperor after all.

“in all honesty, i have no clue…but i find satisfaction in believing that our souls live on eternally, somehow. they stay behind and watch over loved ones.”

sukuna chuckles bitterly at this response but doesn’t say anything else for a while longer until finally speaking up.

“if i depart this life someday…would you crave my presence once more?”

the question catches you off guard.

he was immortal! he can't die.

what foolish questions is he asking?

"sukuna-dono, you can't—" you begin, but you're cut off by his gruff voice.

"it is a mere coincidence that i, in truth, am susceptible to mortality, as are you mortals. how intriguing. this ailment afflicting me has claimed the lives of even the most potent immortals, and even i am not immune." he pulls his gaze away from you.

"my lord...what are you saying...? what ailment do you speak of? surely, there exists a remedy. my brother possesses remarkable knowledge of ailments; i am positively certain he can discover a cure for your affliction."

"hanahaki." he turns back to you.

silence.

hanahaki...your brother had been working on a medicine cure for so long, but to no avail. the only real cure is to...

"sukuna-dono. to which woman does your affection belong?" you question.

to that, you're met with a quiet sigh.

"i suppose i must tell you. that woman..."

before he could finish, he was interrupted by another coughing fit.

sukuna, at that moment, couldn't hold back any longer. he dropped the food, and his face paled as he hacked and choked, his body shaking uncontrollably. the blood-covered flower petals falling out of his mouth — an indicative of his declining health.

his breathing became labored, and his hands gripped the floor tightly as he desperately tried to compose himself. not in front of you.

"sukuna-dono?" you panic, standing up quickly to call uraume. "uraume! sukuna-dono's condition has deteriorated significantly!"

your desperate calls made them rush it to help sukuna, but upon arrival, he grabbed their arm before they could touch him and stared. uraume only nodded in understanding and stepped back as he continued to cough. they only picked up the flowers and rushed away, leaving you confused as you call out.

they didn’t return. you tried your best to help him, of course, but to no avail. he lost his life. you never got to find out who it was that he loved. tears streamed down your face as you hoped he was only joking.

curses couldn’t die until they could. And that’s exactly what happened.

just then, uraume returns. in their right hand was a bouquet of the same flowers that sukuna had coughed out, and in the other were papers, more specifically letters.

you wipe the tears from your eyes because taking the things and setting them down. your eyes trailed over to the letters. they were most likely addressed to the woman he loved and he wanted you to deliver it, right? same with the flowers, maybe.

but no. the name on the envelopes was yours. they were addressed to you…?

you quickly open them and read through them all, crying and laughing at the poems.

he described your eyes with such detail that even you were surprised.

he seemed like a man of lust…he was a man of lust.

so why did nothing mention your figure? it really was true love, it seems. who knew he was capable of it?

"had he told me, i would have willingly sacrificed myself for him. i am but a mortal being; his sacrifice for me was futile. my demise is inevitable, his was optional. so why..." you look at uraume, tears streaming down your face.

"master, unable to envision existence devoid of you, left it to me to keep you sentient. he aspires to be reunited with your essence in another life, however." uraume bows and leaves you with the items, staring down at the body of the king of curses.

a man so cruel that words couldn't describe it. he would eat children while their mothers watched. he would skin people alive, and yet...he sacrificed himself for a mere mortal. a mortal he has shown that he cared for. why did he care? perhaps it really was true love.

true love sometimes makes people do really crazy things.

you didn't try to love him because you knew you couldn't have him; he was incapable of love after all, from what he said. but he was after all. if only he had told you earlier...

you kneel beside him, trembling hands brushing the blood from his lips. his face, usually so sharp and full of life and power, looked almost peaceful now.

uraume’s footsteps fade, leaving you alone with his body. the silence feels heavy and your heart ached.

“sukuna-dono…” your voice cracks. “you claimed to be unable to perish like a mortal would...so how is this possible?”

his eyes are half-open and unfocused. there’s no response. what remains is the faint scent of iron and the flowers. of course he wouldn't respond, silly, he's gone.

you gather the petals from the floor, pressing them into your palms until they crumble, as if holding them together could somehow keep him with you, but it’s useless. he’s gone.

you sit there for hours, reading and rereading the letters he left you. over time, you realize how deeply in love the man had fallen in love with you. your heart ached and your throat felt dry and closed up.

but that’s when it starts.

the first cough isn’t much. but when you pull your hand away from your mouth, a petal lies there. a small pink one, matching the ones that spilled out of his throat.

you freeze. did you somehow contract the hanahaki as well?

“no…” you whisper, clutching your chest, heart pounding.

you can feel it. the ache blooming behind your ribs, twisting in your lungs the same way it must have for him.

you laugh bitterly through the tears. “you truly are a cruel man, sukuna-dono…”

you clutch his hand and lower your head beside his, whispering to him as you press the cold blade to your throat, “if there’s another life...seek me out once more. and when you do, i humbly request that you confess sooner. please?”

outside, the wind shifts through the shrine, carrying with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals. spring's final breath along with yours and his.

uraume pokes out of the kitchen and scan both of your still bodies. among the dancing petals, three land in your hand and a ladybug lands on sukuna's shoulder and crawls over to your cheek.

"how strange," they begin, "it appears these souls are destined to be together. maybe in another life they'll both end up more fortunate than they were in this one..."

“i’m dying,” hime muttered. “this place sucks.”

sukuna smiles fondly, one that was only reserved for you and her. “you’ll survive, sweetheart.”

she shot him a look before moving slightly further away. “i hate you.”

his smile only widened. “love you too, baby.”

you smiled despite yourself, leaning into him and he dipped his head to brush a casual kiss against your temple.

he’d done well so far. sukuna had survived dumbo, peter pan’s flight, and it’s a small world without complaining too much, but now he was done.

“alright,” sukuna announced, holding up his express wristband with a grin. “my turn.”

yuji swallowed. “uh… it’s not gonna be too scary, right?”

sukuna didn’t even look back at him. just slipped smoothly into the crowd, voice mocking and amused. “‘it’s not gonna be too scary, right?’ i paid extra for this. we're all going, i don't care what you say.”

after a short trek through the amusement park, the tower of terror loomed above you.

“uncle..." yuji started, turning pale.

he turned, expression sharp and final.

one look and the argument died in yuji's throat.

minutes later, you were all strapped into the elevator.

you sat wedged between sukuna and yuji and hime sat beside sukuna, jaw clenched in fury.

yuji’s hand shot out and grabbed yours the second the restraints clicked into place, his grip desperate.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, squeezing back. “i’ve got you.”

sukuna frowns. “let go of my wife.”

you elbowed him lightly. “be nice, he's just a kid.”

he huffs and crosses his arms.

the lights flickered and the eerie narration droned on while the elevator creaked upward slowly.

hime muttered, “i hate you.” under her breath.

sukuna reached over without looking and rested his hand over her shoulder. “you'll be fine, you're just like daddy, isn't that right, my brave little princess?”

then—

the drop hit.

your stomach flew straight into your throat. the scream ripped out of you before you could stop it, and your hand shot to sukuna’s arm, clutching hard. yuji screamed like he was actively dying, fingers locked around yours like a lifeline.

the elevator plummeted. shot up. dropped again.

you clung to sukuna, face pressed to his shoulder, heart slamming.

through it all, he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. just sat there with a smile as if this was the highlight of his day because you were hugging his arm, and though hime hasn't spared him a glance after she turned eleven (which he hated), having her let him have his arm around him made him happy.

finally, mercifully, it stopped and the restraints clicked open.

your legs felt like jelly. yuji bolted the second his feet hit the ground, sprinting straight for the nearest trash can.

sukuna extends his hand for hime to take, but she just shoved him away with a scowl. “i actually hate you.”

sukuna pouted. “aw that hurt. hey, come on, you did amazing!”

yuji gagged violently over the bin.

“pathetic,” sukuna muttered, watching him with clear disdain.

you shot him a look. “ryo...”

his expression shifted instantly to a soft and attentive one, feigning innocence as he plants a kiss on your cheek. “yes, gorgeous?”

you roll your eyes in response. “be nice. i heard that.”

"yes ma'am." behind your back, however, sukuna’s gaze flicked to yuji once again, sharp and cruel. he leaned down just enough to sneer, unheard by you, “embarrassing us is becoming a habit, be careful. you might exhaust yourself. come along, try not to trip over your own inadequacy.”

yuji looked like he might cry. but trails behind him anyway.

sukuna straightened, turned to you, and gently placed his palm on top of your head, thumb brushing your hair. “you did really good, though. clinging onto me the whole time...”

you scoffed, flustered. “i didn’t cling to you.”

he grinned, smug. “you absolutely did.”

your face heated. “only because the restraint thing felt loose!”

“excuses,” he said, amused, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss.

hime gags. “ew, can we go back to the hotel?”

you pulled away and checked the time, then sighed. “…yeah. maybe we should.”

sukuna's grin faded just a fraction. he’d only just started having fun, and now you wanted to leave?

“oh?” he asked quietly, eyes darting between you and hime. “alright then. that's enough for today, i guess.”

but the petals keep coming.

at first, it’s just one or two petals a day, easy enough to ignore. but within a week, he’s coughing up whole flowers.

he keeps telling himself he's fine, that it's temporary.

and then you walk into his shrine with a bow as usual, and suddenly his throat is full of them again, but he always swallows them down. after all, it would be embarrassing for you to know that the great king of curses has hanahaki, the disease caused by unrequited love, as uraume informs him.

love.

the word is so absurd that he nearly kills them where they kneel. he doesn’t love. he's a curse and you're a human. it makes it far worse.

but when you smile at him later that day, he realizes with humiliating clarity that they’re right.

he’s in love with you. and you will never see him the way he sees you.

he considers the easy solution: if he kills you, this will stop. no more flowers, no weakness. after all, you were nothing but a pathetic human.

the next time you skip into his shrine, he rises, one clawed hand in a finger gun, about to hit you with one quick dismantle. it would be so simple. one slice, one scream, and he’d be free. but that scream would be from the only woman who has made him feel true love. but did it matter? after all he was a curse. cold-blooded and selfish. right?

you freeze, staring up at him as you clutch onto your kimono's sleeve. “...sukuna-dono?”

the flowers surge up his throat, choking him until he falls to his knees, hacking them out onto the floor between you both.

you stare, stepping closer to aid him. “y-you’re sick?”

he doesn’t answer. just slams his hand onto the ground, glaring up at you, sending you stumbling backward. “leave me. at once. or you too will be no stranger to my wrath.”

you obey, frightened and leave with a quick bow.

his health rapidly declines after that encounter. he's not been able to move much due to the pain in his lungs. as a result, he hasn't been able to go out and kill humans, so he had taken to new hobbies. specifically writing. he wrote letters every day without fail. love letters, addressed to only one woman. you.

just in case he died, he ordered uraume to deliver them to you along with the bloodied flowers from his lungs, bundled up in a nice little bouquet with a bow to finish. you would like that, wouldn't you?

flowers growing in my lungs, how i wish i could tell you what you mean to me, i'll rip them out and gift them to you, a bouquet of unsaid i love yous

he tore it up. 'how foolish,' he told himself.

i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out my gums, like a monster, like a beast like something not worth loving back i tell myself, "i'm not a violent dog" but if that were true,  why would i bite? i'm afraid of the love i hold for you because i know i'll let it kill me

in case we never meet again, just know that i love you i always have and always will

he looks down at the writing for a while before he lets out a loud cough, blood and petals shooting out of his mouth as he continues hacking until he feels a thin branch lodged in his throat.

unable to breathe, he grabs the branch and pulls it out while it rakes the insides of his throat painfully. when it is finally pulled out, he coughs out a few bloodied petals before sighing.

you were supposed to be here around this time. he straightens up and walks into his throne room, thinking of the easiest ways to kill you.

would he really be able to kill you?

he hears your footsteps approaching, the soft patter of your sandals echoing through the empty halls. his heart pounds in his chest. he can feel the flowers growing again, threatening to choke him.

you enter the room, bowing deeply as always. “sukuna-dono” you greet him, your voice so gentle and sweet. a voice he loved more than his power.

“what is it you want?” he snaps, his tone ruder than intended.

you flinch slightly at his harsh tone. “it seems illness has befallen you,” you say, holding out a tray of delicacies. “so i have brought you subsistence.”

he scoffs, turning away from you. “i don’t need your pity, and certainly not your human subsistence. the only thing i am willing to consume is human meat.” he mutters.

but as you take the tray back and turn to leave, he can’t help but call out to you. “halt, woman.”

you pause, looking back at him with concern in your eyes.

“stay,” he says, barely above a whisper, "i'll have some. serve me my portion."

you hesitate for a moment before nodding and sitting down beside him on the floor, taking out a portion of the food you brought him. for a while, neither of you speak. the only sound is the quiet sound of his chewing.

finally, sukuna swallows the bite and grunts. “it's adequate," he pauses for a second before continuing, "have you ever mulled over your demise?"

you look at him, confused, before nodding slowly. “from time to time,” you admit, "i get a little covetous of you at times. you have a powerful ability, immortality, while i merely pass away. what truly frightens me the most is how one day, i will be nothing but a memory, and soon disregarded and unappreciated."

“what do you think happens after you'll die?” he inquires.

you ponder this for a moment. why was he even asking all this? but you knew better than to question him. he was the emperor after all.

“in all honesty, i have no clue…but i find satisfaction in believing that our souls live on eternally, somehow. they stay behind and watch over loved ones.”

sukuna chuckles bitterly at this response but doesn’t say anything else for a while longer until finally speaking up.

“if i depart this life someday…would you crave my presence once more?”

the question catches you off guard.

he was immortal! he can't die.

what foolish questions is he asking?

"sukuna-dono, you can't—" you begin, but you're cut off by his gruff voice.

"it is a mere coincidence that i, in truth, am susceptible to mortality, as are you mortals. how intriguing. this ailment afflicting me has claimed the lives of even the most potent immortals, and even i am not immune." he pulls his gaze away from you.

"my lord...what are you saying...? what ailment do you speak of? surely, there exists a remedy. my brother possesses remarkable knowledge of ailments; i am positively certain he can discover a cure for your affliction."

"hanahaki." he turns back to you.

silence.

hanahaki...your brother had been working on a medicine cure for so long, but to no avail. the only real cure is to...

"sukuna-dono. to which woman does your affection belong?" you question.

to that, you're met with a quiet sigh.

"i suppose i must tell you. that woman..."

before he could finish, he was interrupted by another coughing fit.

sukuna, at that moment, couldn't hold back any longer. he dropped the food, and his face paled as he hacked and choked, his body shaking uncontrollably. the blood-covered flower petals falling out of his mouth — an indicative of his declining health.

his breathing became labored, and his hands gripped the floor tightly as he desperately tried to compose himself. not in front of you.

"sukuna-dono?" you panic, standing up quickly to call uraume. "uraume! sukuna-dono's condition has deteriorated significantly!"

your desperate calls made them rush it to help sukuna, but upon arrival, he grabbed their arm before they could touch him and stared. uraume only nodded in understanding and stepped back as he continued to cough. they only picked up the flowers and rushed away, leaving you confused as you call out.

they didn’t return. you tried your best to help him, of course, but to no avail. he lost his life. you never got to find out who it was that he loved. tears streamed down your face as you hoped he was only joking.

curses couldn’t die until they could. And that’s exactly what happened.

just then, uraume returns. in their right hand was a bouquet of the same flowers that sukuna had coughed out, and in the other were papers, more specifically letters.

you wipe the tears from your eyes because taking the things and setting them down. your eyes trailed over to the letters. they were most likely addressed to the woman he loved and he wanted you to deliver it, right? same with the flowers, maybe.

but no. the name on the envelopes was yours. they were addressed to you…?

you quickly open them and read through them all, crying and laughing at the poems.

he described your eyes with such detail that even you were surprised.

he seemed like a man of lust…he was a man of lust.

so why did nothing mention your figure? it really was true love, it seems. who knew he was capable of it?

"had he told me, i would have willingly sacrificed myself for him. i am but a mortal being; his sacrifice for me was futile. my demise is inevitable, his was optional. so why..." you look at uraume, tears streaming down your face.

"master, unable to envision existence devoid of you, left it to me to keep you sentient. he aspires to be reunited with your essence in another life, however." uraume bows and leaves you with the items, staring down at the body of the king of curses.

a man so cruel that words couldn't describe it. he would eat children while their mothers watched. he would skin people alive, and yet...he sacrificed himself for a mere mortal. a mortal he has shown that he cared for. why did he care? perhaps it really was true love.

true love sometimes makes people do really crazy things.

you didn't try to love him because you knew you couldn't have him; he was incapable of love after all, from what he said. but he was after all. if only he had told you earlier...

you kneel beside him, trembling hands brushing the blood from his lips. his face, usually so sharp and full of life and power, looked almost peaceful now.

uraume’s footsteps fade, leaving you alone with his body. the silence feels heavy and your heart ached.

“sukuna-dono…” your voice cracks. “you claimed to be unable to perish like a mortal would...so how is this possible?”

his eyes are half-open and unfocused. there’s no response. what remains is the faint scent of iron and the flowers. of course he wouldn't respond, silly, he's gone.

you gather the petals from the floor, pressing them into your palms until they crumble, as if holding them together could somehow keep him with you, but it’s useless. he’s gone.

you sit there for hours, reading and rereading the letters he left you. over time, you realize how deeply in love the man had fallen in love with you. your heart ached and your throat felt dry and closed up.

but that’s when it starts.

the first cough isn’t much. but when you pull your hand away from your mouth, a petal lies there. a small pink one, matching the ones that spilled out of his throat.

you freeze. did you somehow contract the hanahaki as well?

“no…” you whisper, clutching your chest, heart pounding.

you can feel it. the ache blooming behind your ribs, twisting in your lungs the same way it must have for him.

you laugh bitterly through the tears. “you truly are a cruel man, sukuna-dono…”

you clutch his hand and lower your head beside his, whispering to him as you press the cold blade to your throat, “if there’s another life...seek me out once more. and when you do, i humbly request that you confess sooner. please?”

outside, the wind shifts through the shrine, carrying with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals. spring's final breath along with yours and his.

uraume pokes out of the kitchen and scan both of your still bodies. among the dancing petals, three land in your hand and a ladybug lands on sukuna's shoulder and crawls over to your cheek.

"how strange," they begin, "it appears these souls are destined to be together. maybe in another life they'll both end up more fortunate than they were in this one..."

“i’m dying,” hime muttered. “this place sucks.”

sukuna smiles fondly, one that was only reserved for you and her. “you’ll survive, sweetheart.”

she shot him a look before moving slightly further away. “i hate you.”

his smile only widened. “love you too, baby.”

you smiled despite yourself, leaning into him and he dipped his head to brush a casual kiss against your temple.

he’d done well so far. sukuna had survived dumbo, peter pan’s flight, and it’s a small world without complaining too much, but now he was done.

“alright,” sukuna announced, holding up his express wristband with a grin. “my turn.”

yuji swallowed. “uh… it’s not gonna be too scary, right?”

sukuna didn’t even look back at him. just slipped smoothly into the crowd, voice mocking and amused. “‘it’s not gonna be too scary, right?’ i paid extra for this. we're all going, i don't care what you say.”

after a short trek through the amusement park, the tower of terror loomed above you.

“uncle..." yuji started, turning pale.

he turned, expression sharp and final.

one look and the argument died in yuji's throat.

minutes later, you were all strapped into the elevator.

you sat wedged between sukuna and yuji and hime sat beside sukuna, jaw clenched in fury.

yuji’s hand shot out and grabbed yours the second the restraints clicked into place, his grip desperate.

“it’s okay,” you whispered, squeezing back. “i’ve got you.”

sukuna frowns. “let go of my wife.”

you elbowed him lightly. “be nice, he's just a kid.”

he huffs and crosses his arms.

the lights flickered and the eerie narration droned on while the elevator creaked upward slowly.

hime muttered, “i hate you.” under her breath.

sukuna reached over without looking and rested his hand over her shoulder. “you'll be fine, you're just like daddy, isn't that right, my brave little princess?”

then—

the drop hit.

your stomach flew straight into your throat. the scream ripped out of you before you could stop it, and your hand shot to sukuna’s arm, clutching hard. yuji screamed like he was actively dying, fingers locked around yours like a lifeline.

the elevator plummeted. shot up. dropped again.

you clung to sukuna, face pressed to his shoulder, heart slamming.

through it all, he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. just sat there with a smile as if this was the highlight of his day because you were hugging his arm, and though hime hasn't spared him a glance after she turned eleven (which he hated), having her let him have his arm around him made him happy.

finally, mercifully, it stopped and the restraints clicked open.

your legs felt like jelly. yuji bolted the second his feet hit the ground, sprinting straight for the nearest trash can.

sukuna extends his hand for hime to take, but she just shoved him away with a scowl. “i actually hate you.”

sukuna pouted. “aw that hurt. hey, come on, you did amazing!”

yuji gagged violently over the bin.

“pathetic,” sukuna muttered, watching him with clear disdain.

you shot him a look. “ryo...”

his expression shifted instantly to a soft and attentive one, feigning innocence as he plants a kiss on your cheek. “yes, gorgeous?”

you roll your eyes in response. “be nice. i heard that.”

"yes ma'am." behind your back, however, sukuna’s gaze flicked to yuji once again, sharp and cruel. he leaned down just enough to sneer, unheard by you, “embarrassing us is becoming a habit, be careful. you might exhaust yourself. come along, try not to trip over your own inadequacy.”

yuji looked like he might cry. but trails behind him anyway.

sukuna straightened, turned to you, and gently placed his palm on top of your head, thumb brushing your hair. “you did really good, though. clinging onto me the whole time...”

you scoffed, flustered. “i didn’t cling to you.”

he grinned, smug. “you absolutely did.”

your face heated. “only because the restraint thing felt loose!”

“excuses,” he said, amused, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss.

hime gags. “ew, can we go back to the hotel?”

you pulled away and checked the time, then sighed. “…yeah. maybe we should.”

sukuna's grin faded just a fraction. he’d only just started having fun, and now you wanted to leave?

“oh?” he asked quietly, eyes darting between you and hime. “alright then. that's enough for today, i guess.”

"you think it looks good, babe?" sukuna asked you, running his hand over his now short hair.

"of course," you respond. "we have to pick up hime from daycare, by the way."

"right. you think she won't throw a fit?" he questions, his eyes still on the road as he made a turn towards the daycare your daughter was in.

"hmm...we'll have to find out," you wink, stepping out of the car.

he sighs but follows suit, shrugging his jacket on and taking his wallet.

once inside, the workers recognized you both instantly.

"heya! you here for hime? i'll get her for you!" the woman exclaimed.

sukuna only mumbled a thanks, still nervous to see his daughter's reaction to his buzz cut.

a few minutes later, a familiar figure waddles towards the both of you.

"da—" the young girl froze when she lifted her head to look at sukuna, her expression morphing into a horrified look.

"hey, princess, you like my hair?" sukuna asked hopefully, crouching down and bowing his head so that she could touch it.

"no, no. go away." the girl moved back, clearly repulsed by the new haircut.

"no?" he whines in response. "come on, it's me! daddy! your favorite!"

god, he sounded so desperate it was funny.

"not anymore. now i like mommy more." she said, running up to you.

you pick her up with a laugh and sukuna stands there, betrayed. his daughter doesn't love him anymore because of a haircut? unbelievable.

that night he got into bed and sat there for minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"'kuna, what's wrong?" you lean into his line of vision. was he seriously upset over his daughter not liking his buzz cut?

"she thinks i'm ugly," he mumbles. apparently he was upset about it.

"oh come on, you're being dramatic, you're her father! she loves you!" you reassure him, poking his shoulder. "you should go and talk to her right now, you know?"

"no, i did."

"oh, really? how'd it go?" you ask curiously.

"let's see...i got called an uggo twice, she threw the stuffed monkey i got her at me, and said that before i was only fat but now i'm bald too, and she can't be seen around me." he pursed his lips and exhales through his nose. "you know what, i deserve it. don't try and comfort me, i still feel like shit."

who knew a toddler could destroy this grown man's confidence? the same man who ruthlessly murdered men for not paying their debts on time? the same man who's name brings fear in the eyes of even the biggest criminal masterminds? it was rather humorous to imagine this.

he stays with his hands over his face until a small knock hits the door. soft. hesitant.

“daddy…?” hime’s tiny voice leaks through.

his head snaps instantly. “yeah?”

the door cracks open and she peeks in, clutching her stuffed monkey by the arm—the same one she weaponized earlier when she hurled it at him when talking about his horrible haircut. her little brows are scrunched, pout wobbling.

“…monkey said he's sorry,” she mumbles, holding it out like an offering.

sukuna exhales, the tension draining out of him all at once. he pats the mattress between the both of you. “c’mere.”

she totters over, climbs up, and crawls straight into his lap like nothing ever happened.

“it’s ok to be ugly,” she mumbled into his chest.

his eye twitches. “…wow.”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“so,” she continues, “you’re still my daddy.”

that does it.

his arms wrap around her instantly, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair. “yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “i’m yours. thanks for not disowning me.”

she yawns, already half asleep. “will your old hair come back?”

“…eventually.”

“okay.” satisfied.

five minutes later, she’s out cold on his chest, the monkey half fallen out of her arms.

you smile from beside the both of them, planting a kiss on hime’s forehead. “see? she loves you.”

he glares at you over hime’s head. “you’re never going to make me get a buzz ever again.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, turning off the lamp on your side, drowning you both in darkness.

after a few moments of silence, he breaks it.

“i can’t possibly be that ugly, right?” he mumbled, turning to face you.

“‘course not. i’d still hit. even if you sound absolutely pathetic, crying because a toddler disowned you.” you snicker.

“first off, there’s no tears. no tears, see, look. i wasn’t crying, touch my face. see? not crying. i’m not pathetic,” he says, reaching out for your hand and holding it to touch his face. “and second, that’s my toddler we’re talking about. obviously i’d be upset.”

“ok, jeez, i believe you. just sleep before you wake up hime.” you laugh.

then he sees her.

a small figure, around six or seven years old, lies a few yards away on her side in the grass. her dress is clean, cream-colored with tiny, pastel blue-embroidered flowers, and her hair is straight and jet black, just like his.

for a moment, he doesn’t know who she is and he can’t get himself to remember.

but then she turns, and he gets a glimpse of her bright, purple eyes and the memories flood through him.

he’s back in that room. the smell comes first— damp earth, mold, sweat, and blood. she’s huddled in the corner, dress torn to rags, hair uneven and knotted, and visible bald spots. her small body trembles and her breath comes out in short sobs.

the cult members had dragged her back in there an hour ago, while she kicked and screamed.

“just hold her down,” one of them had said, annoyed. “the master said we don’t need to be gentle if she doesn’t cooperate.”

and suguru had stood there. watching.

he told himself it was necessary. that she was just another sacrifice, just another step toward the new world he wanted to build. just like his parents were.

but when they injected her, she convulsed and choked, but wouldn’t die. she was immune. they realized that and dragged her back to keep her longer, he hadn’t stopped them then.

the following months, her treatment had gotten worse. her knees were scraped, burns littered her small arms along with bruises that would never fade. she stopped speaking after a while, the trauma rendering her mute. she would always look at him when he came to see her, her eyes wide and desperate, but he would always turn away. there were other matters to attend to.

even at the very end, when she was little more than skin and bones with a wound in her stomach as she bled out, she had reached a frail hand toward him from the cold, hard wooden floor. such a sweet girl, many people would say. but he hadn’t taken it. he didn’t love her, and he never would. he couldn’t. she might’ve been his daughter, but she was just a filthy non-sorcerer. a disgusting monkey.

when she finally went still, he’d just stood there, staring, until the person responsible had walked out of the room grinning. suguru killed him without hesitation. but it hadn’t brought her back. just a child. one he hated, but that was his baby. what would his late wife think...? she wouldn’t approve at all. not that he could fix it, though. they were both dead.

and after that, he buried her in his mind, but not in a grave. he threw her body in the woods behind the building, for it to decay and rot while all kinds of creatures crawled all over it and ate it until she wasn't physically there anymore.

but here she is.

he swallows hard and steps closer, the back of his throat burning. her name doesn’t come to him right away, and the guilt claws at him. he never bothered to remember anything about her. not her name or birthday, just...nothing.

she blinks up at him and then sits up slowly. there’s a small smile on her face, a stark contrast to how he always saw her when she was alive. everything about her was different, as if she was blessed to live a better afterlife than her real life. she looked like she was being treated well, not like how she was with him.

“papa,” she says.

it takes him a second to snap out of his trance. he had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like.

she gets to her feet and runs to him, hugging him around the waist.

he doesn’t hug her back.

“you look…different.” he points out.

she grins up at him. “do i look pretty?”

he forces a nod. just because he hated her doesn’t mean he should show it. she looked so happy now, he didn’t have it in his heart to belittle her anymore, now that he’s older and wiser than he was when he killed her.

she beams, takes his hand, and pulls him toward a stream nearby. she talks the whole way, chattering about the flowers she’s been picking and little things like that. little things every little kid does, but she never had the chance to do while she was alive because all of the joy and whimsy in her life was sucked out at such a young age.

each word of hers and thought of his felt like a blade twisting inside him.

make it stop…

all he can think about is how she used to flinch at every footstep, how she bit down on cloth and cried while she treated her own wounds, how she was taunted when she couldn't talk anymore, how she sat on the floor of the cell, drawing whatever in the dirt.

and yet here she is. forgiving him. she has every reason to push him in the stream or throw rocks at him. to punish him for his crimes. but she doesn’t look like she’s planned or planning on it.

they sit by the stream together. she leans against him as she weaves flowers into a crown. where did she learn that, he wonders. suguru continues to watch her, his chest tight and throat burning, unable to decide whether he hates himself more for letting her die or for sitting here like he doesn’t deserve to be punished right now.

“did it work?” she asks suddenly, looking up at him.

he frowns. “what?”

“did it work? did killing all non-sorcerers make things better?” she questions once again.

he sighs. “no. i never got to finish.”

she stares at him for a moment, then whispers, “oh.”

and then, softly, “sorry.”

suguru’s jaw tightens. he wants to scream at her to stop being nice and to tell him what a monster he was. but she’s his daughter. and she still loves him. yet he doesn’t remember her damn name! what kind of father is he?

“if you forgot, my names hana.” she whispered before finishing the flower crown.

hana. right. he named her. it meant flower. flower…she was just like one. she was delicate and soft like the petals of a flower. she was so much more than her trauma. she was a person. his baby. the girl he saw as a bright red newborn straight out of the womb, the one he kept a small single box of her things up until she was 4 to remember her baby days. the cultist wasn't really the one who killed her. it was him. every time he sat back and watched her get hurt, she died. it was only official with the stab wound. he could’ve saved her. poor thing. the last thing she saw was her incompetent father's face. such a terrible way to go.

she finally finishes her crown, and she puts it on his head, and she catches up with him, talking about how much fun she's having and how she got new hobbies, like drawing and stuff. eventually, she falls asleep with her small head in his lap, suguru looks down at her. her hair is soft. her breathing is even. not the ragged, scared one it used to be. she’s actually asleep.

finally, realization strikes him. this is his punishment. to sit here forever with the one person he failed and hurt most, knowing she adores him enough to forgive him a thousand times over when he can’t forgive himself.

hana and him are very similar. they both died in a similar way: in the hands of the person they love the most, more than themselves.

“hana, if in another universe, we’re reborn as father and daughter…i’ll give you what i never did this life. i promise i’ll do everything to give you what you deserve.” suguru whispers. not that she could hear him, so deep in her sleep.

“i love you hana. i’m sorry for everything.”

but the petals keep coming.

at first, it’s just one or two petals a day, easy enough to ignore. but within a week, he’s coughing up whole flowers.

he keeps telling himself he's fine, that it's temporary.

and then you walk into his shrine with a bow as usual, and suddenly his throat is full of them again, but he always swallows them down. after all, it would be embarrassing for you to know that the great king of curses has hanahaki, the disease caused by unrequited love, as uraume informs him.

love.

the word is so absurd that he nearly kills them where they kneel. he doesn’t love. he's a curse and you're a human. it makes it far worse.

but when you smile at him later that day, he realizes with humiliating clarity that they’re right.

he’s in love with you. and you will never see him the way he sees you.

he considers the easy solution: if he kills you, this will stop. no more flowers, no weakness. after all, you were nothing but a pathetic human.

the next time you skip into his shrine, he rises, one clawed hand in a finger gun, about to hit you with one quick dismantle. it would be so simple. one slice, one scream, and he’d be free. but that scream would be from the only woman who has made him feel true love. but did it matter? after all he was a curse. cold-blooded and selfish. right?

you freeze, staring up at him as you clutch onto your kimono's sleeve. “...sukuna-dono?”

the flowers surge up his throat, choking him until he falls to his knees, hacking them out onto the floor between you both.

you stare, stepping closer to aid him. “y-you’re sick?”

he doesn’t answer. just slams his hand onto the ground, glaring up at you, sending you stumbling backward. “leave me. at once. or you too will be no stranger to my wrath.”

you obey, frightened and leave with a quick bow.

his health rapidly declines after that encounter. he's not been able to move much due to the pain in his lungs. as a result, he hasn't been able to go out and kill humans, so he had taken to new hobbies. specifically writing. he wrote letters every day without fail. love letters, addressed to only one woman. you.

just in case he died, he ordered uraume to deliver them to you along with the bloodied flowers from his lungs, bundled up in a nice little bouquet with a bow to finish. you would like that, wouldn't you?

flowers growing in my lungs, how i wish i could tell you what you mean to me, i'll rip them out and gift them to you, a bouquet of unsaid i love yous

he tore it up. 'how foolish,' he told himself.

i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out my gums, like a monster, like a beast like something not worth loving back i tell myself, "i'm not a violent dog" but if that were true,  why would i bite? i'm afraid of the love i hold for you because i know i'll let it kill me

in case we never meet again, just know that i love you i always have and always will

he looks down at the writing for a while before he lets out a loud cough, blood and petals shooting out of his mouth as he continues hacking until he feels a thin branch lodged in his throat.

unable to breathe, he grabs the branch and pulls it out while it rakes the insides of his throat painfully. when it is finally pulled out, he coughs out a few bloodied petals before sighing.

you were supposed to be here around this time. he straightens up and walks into his throne room, thinking of the easiest ways to kill you.

would he really be able to kill you?

he hears your footsteps approaching, the soft patter of your sandals echoing through the empty halls. his heart pounds in his chest. he can feel the flowers growing again, threatening to choke him.

you enter the room, bowing deeply as always. “sukuna-dono” you greet him, your voice so gentle and sweet. a voice he loved more than his power.

“what is it you want?” he snaps, his tone ruder than intended.

you flinch slightly at his harsh tone. “it seems illness has befallen you,” you say, holding out a tray of delicacies. “so i have brought you subsistence.”

he scoffs, turning away from you. “i don’t need your pity, and certainly not your human subsistence. the only thing i am willing to consume is human meat.” he mutters.

but as you take the tray back and turn to leave, he can’t help but call out to you. “halt, woman.”

you pause, looking back at him with concern in your eyes.

“stay,” he says, barely above a whisper, "i'll have some. serve me my portion."

you hesitate for a moment before nodding and sitting down beside him on the floor, taking out a portion of the food you brought him. for a while, neither of you speak. the only sound is the quiet sound of his chewing.

finally, sukuna swallows the bite and grunts. “it's adequate," he pauses for a second before continuing, "have you ever mulled over your demise?"

you look at him, confused, before nodding slowly. “from time to time,” you admit, "i get a little covetous of you at times. you have a powerful ability, immortality, while i merely pass away. what truly frightens me the most is how one day, i will be nothing but a memory, and soon disregarded and unappreciated."

“what do you think happens after you'll die?” he inquires.

you ponder this for a moment. why was he even asking all this? but you knew better than to question him. he was the emperor after all.

“in all honesty, i have no clue…but i find satisfaction in believing that our souls live on eternally, somehow. they stay behind and watch over loved ones.”

sukuna chuckles bitterly at this response but doesn’t say anything else for a while longer until finally speaking up.

“if i depart this life someday…would you crave my presence once more?”

the question catches you off guard.

he was immortal! he can't die.

what foolish questions is he asking?

"sukuna-dono, you can't—" you begin, but you're cut off by his gruff voice.

"it is a mere coincidence that i, in truth, am susceptible to mortality, as are you mortals. how intriguing. this ailment afflicting me has claimed the lives of even the most potent immortals, and even i am not immune." he pulls his gaze away from you.

"my lord...what are you saying...? what ailment do you speak of? surely, there exists a remedy. my brother possesses remarkable knowledge of ailments; i am positively certain he can discover a cure for your affliction."

"hanahaki." he turns back to you.

silence.

hanahaki...your brother had been working on a medicine cure for so long, but to no avail. the only real cure is to...

"sukuna-dono. to which woman does your affection belong?" you question.

to that, you're met with a quiet sigh.

"i suppose i must tell you. that woman..."

before he could finish, he was interrupted by another coughing fit.

sukuna, at that moment, couldn't hold back any longer. he dropped the food, and his face paled as he hacked and choked, his body shaking uncontrollably. the blood-covered flower petals falling out of his mouth — an indicative of his declining health.

his breathing became labored, and his hands gripped the floor tightly as he desperately tried to compose himself. not in front of you.

"sukuna-dono?" you panic, standing up quickly to call uraume. "uraume! sukuna-dono's condition has deteriorated significantly!"

your desperate calls made them rush it to help sukuna, but upon arrival, he grabbed their arm before they could touch him and stared. uraume only nodded in understanding and stepped back as he continued to cough. they only picked up the flowers and rushed away, leaving you confused as you call out.

they didn’t return. you tried your best to help him, of course, but to no avail. he lost his life. you never got to find out who it was that he loved. tears streamed down your face as you hoped he was only joking.

curses couldn’t die until they could. And that’s exactly what happened.

just then, uraume returns. in their right hand was a bouquet of the same flowers that sukuna had coughed out, and in the other were papers, more specifically letters.

you wipe the tears from your eyes because taking the things and setting them down. your eyes trailed over to the letters. they were most likely addressed to the woman he loved and he wanted you to deliver it, right? same with the flowers, maybe.

but no. the name on the envelopes was yours. they were addressed to you…?

you quickly open them and read through them all, crying and laughing at the poems.

he described your eyes with such detail that even you were surprised.

he seemed like a man of lust…he was a man of lust.

so why did nothing mention your figure? it really was true love, it seems. who knew he was capable of it?

"had he told me, i would have willingly sacrificed myself for him. i am but a mortal being; his sacrifice for me was futile. my demise is inevitable, his was optional. so why..." you look at uraume, tears streaming down your face.

"master, unable to envision existence devoid of you, left it to me to keep you sentient. he aspires to be reunited with your essence in another life, however." uraume bows and leaves you with the items, staring down at the body of the king of curses.

a man so cruel that words couldn't describe it. he would eat children while their mothers watched. he would skin people alive, and yet...he sacrificed himself for a mere mortal. a mortal he has shown that he cared for. why did he care? perhaps it really was true love.

true love sometimes makes people do really crazy things.

you didn't try to love him because you knew you couldn't have him; he was incapable of love after all, from what he said. but he was after all. if only he had told you earlier...

you kneel beside him, trembling hands brushing the blood from his lips. his face, usually so sharp and full of life and power, looked almost peaceful now.

uraume’s footsteps fade, leaving you alone with his body. the silence feels heavy and your heart ached.

“sukuna-dono…” your voice cracks. “you claimed to be unable to perish like a mortal would...so how is this possible?”

his eyes are half-open and unfocused. there’s no response. what remains is the faint scent of iron and the flowers. of course he wouldn't respond, silly, he's gone.

you gather the petals from the floor, pressing them into your palms until they crumble, as if holding them together could somehow keep him with you, but it’s useless. he’s gone.

you sit there for hours, reading and rereading the letters he left you. over time, you realize how deeply in love the man had fallen in love with you. your heart ached and your throat felt dry and closed up.

but that’s when it starts.

the first cough isn’t much. but when you pull your hand away from your mouth, a petal lies there. a small pink one, matching the ones that spilled out of his throat.

you freeze. did you somehow contract the hanahaki as well?

“no…” you whisper, clutching your chest, heart pounding.

you can feel it. the ache blooming behind your ribs, twisting in your lungs the same way it must have for him.

you laugh bitterly through the tears. “you truly are a cruel man, sukuna-dono…”

you clutch his hand and lower your head beside his, whispering to him as you press the cold blade to your throat, “if there’s another life...seek me out once more. and when you do, i humbly request that you confess sooner. please?”

outside, the wind shifts through the shrine, carrying with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals. spring's final breath along with yours and his.

uraume pokes out of the kitchen and scan both of your still bodies. among the dancing petals, three land in your hand and a ladybug lands on sukuna's shoulder and crawls over to your cheek.

"how strange," they begin, "it appears these souls are destined to be together. maybe in another life they'll both end up more fortunate than they were in this one..."