#sukuna

you rack through your memories, replaying every single moment from you entering to park to the last time you saw him.

the food stalls.

you grip sukuna’s arm harsher than needed, albeit it does not hurt him, and march towards the stalls.

sukuna starts asking the vendors for a kid with a similar hair color to him. they all shake their heads mumbling excuses.

“nonsense” sukuna mutters to himself, “everyone here is a fool”

“not more than us” you sigh gripping your chest in an attempt to slow down the incoming panic coursing through your veins.

“listen” sukuna suggests, “we should split up”

“bad idea, better we stick together unless we start going in circles” you breathe hard, gasping out the last few words, worst case scenarios flashing through your mind.

sukuna grabs you by both your arms, you shake your head in protest and he grips you harder, not bruising just firm.

“listen to me” he speaks and you nod, “we’ll find him okay? and damn the heavens if i leave this place without my son”

you lick your lips, “yeah let’s..um call me, text, whatever just..”

the world seems to move in a blur.

you’d been so happy, all of you, yuji insisted on coming here and you obliged ofcourse, you’d do anything for your son. yuji’s laughter on the rides, sukuna carrying yuji on his shoulders, yuji’s cotton candy stuffed cheeks.

you inhale shakily.

“i will,” sukuna calls out starting to walk away.

you turn around in haste, praying, praying, praying.

please let my baby be safe.

until—

“may we have your attention, please.”

your pulse jumps in your throat.

“the parent or guardian of a young boy waiting with our lost and found team is requested to proceed to the main entrance.”

you turn around searching for sukuna to find his eyes already on you.

“again, the parent or guardian of a young boy waiting with our lost and found team, please make your way to the main entrance. thank you.”

before your mind could catch up, you’re running. with sukuna only a step behind you, you both make for the main entrance.

closing up to it you spot him instantly, and you stop in your tracks.

sukuna walks ahead, speaking to the security guard who just laughs while saying something, but you’re too busy to notice. your eyes are frantic you scan your son head to toe.

he’s fine, he’s okay.

the rope of panic that had tightened around your chest loosens. you watch from a distance as yuji bounces on his feet, asking sukuna to pick him up while your husband rubs his neck, thanking the security guard for keeping your son safe.

and then yuji’s eyes flick over to yours.

“mama!!” he comes running.

you hadn’t realized how much that sound had meant to you, not until you’d been faced with the possibility of losing it.

you bend down scooping baby!yuji up into your arms and peppering his face with kisses, while he squeals and giggles.

opening up his hand, yuji proudly shows you a fidget spinner as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t been lost “gun man gave me a gift!”

children were so clueless.

and you were too elated to speak, this just the act of holding your son, having him in your arms again meant everything.

“did you say thankyou, to the security guard?”

“duh” he droned, already looking around for some mischief to get up to.

you felt sukuna’s arms close around the both of you pulling you into a hug. he kissed the side of your head for a moment too long and you understood.

this had been just as frightening for sukuna.

though he’d never admit it.

but you knew, just from the way he slightly rubbed your shoulder and listened to yuji’s rambles attentively.

“he’s smart” his voice came out rough,

you leaned your head back against his chest, raising a brow in question.

“found the security guard himself, told him that he couldn’t find his mama and papa” he chuckled slightly, “brat didn’t even cry one bit”

you buried your nose in yuji’s hair and sighed contentedly.

“and here i was losing my mind” you murmured.

sukuna shrugged, “…and here we were”

yuji crawled out of your grip onto sukuna’s shoulders, cheerfully pointing around,

“can we go on that next?”

firefly; i’ve had this idea for so long, i just figured out how to execute it ❀ུ͏  

You let out a sigh. “Birds aren’t going to eat the seeds Joe.”

“Worms,” he corrected you, squinting his black eyes up at you.

“Well Joe, worms don’t eat seeds.” 

“How do we know that? We can’t stick our heads down there.” He said, tilting his head. A few of the other children had stopped working and were listening. Great. 

“Because we do Joe.” You said, turning back to the hole you were digging. By his little huff you could tell he wasn’t satisfied with your answer. But you had already explained why the sun set, why plants didn’t grow backwards, and you had been asked if you were pregnant, and then pointedly asked if you were married. You could not take it any more. At all. 

“You know Joe,” said Davy-Ray, an eight year old who had once convinced the children’s group you led that Heaven was in Canada. “A giant worm ate King Herod in the Bible,” he said amiably,“Ate him right up.” Even though your back was turned, you could picture Davy-Ray with his hands in his overalls pockets and his chubby chest puffed out. 

“Naw, you must be off your gourd,” Joe said. 

“Sure as the Mississippi runs,”Davy-Ray said. “Now he said he was king of the world, so God sent a giant worm to swallow him whole.” He paused for a second. “You reckon he’s gonna send one to eat Hitler?’ 

You closed your eyes. It was going to be a long morning. 

It was Three o’clock before it was time for you to head home.  Your head pounded and the July heat didn’t help. The sun beat down on you, causing sweat to run into your eyes. It had been a miserable summer, you thought irritably. 

The walk from the community center to your home was awful. Your blouse was soaking wet when you reached your doorstep. You opened the door and slid your shoes off. There was no point in calling out to your mother. She was visiting Mr. Itadori and helping with baby Yuji. 

On the entryway table lies a letter. Your mother must have run to the post office earlier. The sharp neat script catches your eye. Dread flips in your gut. You had heard that Violet Ivanovna’s sweetheart’s letters took months to arrive. Why was it your luck that Sukuna’s letters found you so often? You pick it up, the sweat of your palm stains it. 

  You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, a heavy cloud following you. Every time you see his handwriting, it’s like he’s standing there behind you, watching you. You practically can smell his after shave, the clean scent drowning in the heat of his body. The press and weight of his attention never truly leaves you. Even in sleep you feel him, sinking into you, his flesh melding with your own. His hands etching your form, then sinking in and changing what he could. 

You reach the top of the stairs and turn down the hall to your bedroom. You open the door and are halfway through it, when you hear a loud creak. You pause, inching back into your room, until only your head is in the doorway. You listen, but when you hear nothing else, you close the door. On your head. Pain shoots through you. You stumble backwards, your eyes and lips pinched. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Hot tears bubble out of your eyes. 

You curl up on your bed. You clutched your head. Already, you can feel a dull ache starting. Sukuna’s letter is still curled in your fingers. You sit up, ignoring the pain. You tear it open. 

Dear (A brownish stain - is that blood? Covered your name), 

I am starting to grow tired of your silence. Do you know how humiliating it is when all the other men get letters from their women, care packages even, but I never even get a dot of ink? They think I’m a god here, what kind of god has a woman who doesn’t show him an ounce of care? But it doesn’t say much about me. It says everything about you. Didn’t your ma raise you better than this? Isn’t that what dames learn about, taking care of their man. You obviously fail in this aspect. I love you despite this. After we are married, I expect you will shape up. 

I’ve thought about it. We’ll have two girls and one boy. I don’t want any more sons, I will explain this more at a later date. We’ll move towns, I don’t want to live too close to the Old Man and I don’t want Jin poking his nose in my business. I haven’t heard from him in a few months, but I know if I was within walking distance the ugly bastard would always be up in my business. I never liked that town anyway, everyone thinks they are owed access to your life.We’ll buy a house and I’ll go to university while working in Pop’s mechanic shop to support you and the baby. After I graduate with a degree in something that’ll make us a good bit, we’ll move on last time. How does the coast sound? I’ll get you house right on the water, and you’ll be able to smell the sea salt. 

But enough of this sappy shit. I’m getting sick of you acting like you don’t love me. You played hard to get right up until the end and then you practically tossed yourself into my arms. I keep getting letters that you’re letting that jody keep you warm, that you go out with him practically every night. I am going to kill him when I get home. You can tell him that. 

Yours, Major Sukuna Itadori 

P.S. I better get two pictures now. 

You shoot out of your bed like Poseidon rising out of the deep. The crumbled letter falls on your floor as you stomp to your desk. A dull throb in your head. You grab a sheet of paper and a pen.

Sukuna, 

  I will. never. be. yours. I hate you. I have always hated you. Since I was five and you pushed me the first time. I have hated you. You are a disgusting pig. I knew that when you shoved Will Jones’ head in a toilet, back in high school, and when you hazed Ron Dark when he tried to join the football team so hard he moved to live with his uncle to get away from you. You are a bully that expects the entire world to submit to you. You are utterly ridiculous if you think you are a god now. Ha. You are a demon. 

It is a shame that Jin is dead and you’re still alive. I prayed God would kill you, unfortunately, death mistook Jin for you and took the better twin. It should have been you. If fate was just, you would be lying dead in a trench with your head the trophy of the enemy. But you are still alive and just as wretched as the day you killed your mother being born. How does it feel to have taken two lives just to exist?

I refuse to be another casualty to keep you alive. Stop writing to me.

Never Yours, 

You hurriedly shoved the letter into an envelope. Damn it, it wasn’t enough to wait for tomorrow, you would walk over to the post office today. 

“Letter for Major,” Kashimo hands his superior officer the letter, his eyes gleaming. “Looks like it’s from the missus.” 

“Get out,” Sukuna grunts. His blood is pumping and if Kashimo doesn’t leave him alone in the next three seconds - he’ll wind up with a kick to his nether regions. Kashimo probably knows this, so he gives Sukuna another infuriating smirk and saunters out. 

He carefully opens the letter. His hands etching the paper like it is the form of his patron goddess. He frowns slightly when he doesn’t catch a whiff of her perfume. But then he figures that it probably wore off on the way across the ocean. When the first letter of her frantic script reaches his eyes he sits back. 

As much as he longs to tear through the letter, his nature won’t let him. He slowly reads each poisoned jab. Sukuna only stops when he reads about Jin’s death. 

Jin dead. Jin couldn’t be dead, he had always been the lucky of the two. It wasn’t possible, she had to be lying. It was just one other thing trying to hurt him. It was absurd really, Jin couldn’t be dead. 

She must have deluded herself. No, he knew it wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on her for once. Jin dead. . . no it couldn’t be. But he remembers a night a few months ago. He had been asleep and had dreamed that he was riding the train to the city. He had seen Jin, he had passed through the train compartment until he reached Sukuna’s seat. He had glanced down at Sukuna and smiled. Not the forced one, but the one that he wore when they were eight running down the street laughing. Jin had made no move to touch Sukuna like he normally would. He merely said, “I get off here.” 

Sukuna had woken up with tears - no, he didn’t cry, Sukuna Itadori did not cry. But it had felt as though he had said goodbye to his brother. But when he wrote Pops, the old man simply told him Jin was on a ship and his wife was expecting. 

He kills a boy the next day. He hadn’t been a boy when Sukuna killed him, just another enemy attempting to jump into his foxhole. When he pushed the boy's body off his own, his eyes catch the boy's eyes, open and pleading. And he sees Jin. I just killed my brother, the thought hits him like a clap of thunder. I killed my brother. 

You look in the mirror and straighten your back. It lasts only a second before you are hunched over. You killed Jin Itadori. It’s your fault. You know it is. 

Sukuna catches your eyes over the lip of his mask, warm brown that look almost carmine now in the light, starkly reflecting the hues of your blood as it beams off the clinical sheets. He’s more alive than you’d ever seen him, gaze sharpened with an animal sort of interest. He’s smeared with it, up to his elbows in your soft innards, skin still split and spread open by clamps - all stark blue nitrile smeared red and sticky.

It hits you all at once through the drug induced haze, the dull horror of it. You want to look away, want to squeeze your eyes closed, but you instead find yourself utterly absorbed by the sight of him rummaging through your insides like he was searching for something.

The anaesthesia is doing a good enough job that even when he slips a gloved hand loose and draws a thumb over some exposed stretch of meat, you don’t really feel it. There’s no pain, no discomfort - just a wet sort of warmth where his skin is touching you through the barrier of latex. The foreign sensation of someone touching where you’d never been touched before. It’s invasive, intimate, and the thought makes your head spin. Sends a sizzle of goosebumps careening up your flesh, barely shielded by the remnants of your medical gown.