Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna felt his heart beat again once he saw you again.

The cold-hearted demon. The curse who conquered all. All who had begun to fear the name Ryomen Sukuna would have never truly imagined that the demon was once a human. Once a human who had loved another deeply.

It was a spectacular feeling for him. He thought that his heart had truly stopped beating the moment you betrayed him. A thousands years ago...

Sukuna swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His grip on the umbrella in his hand tightened.

It was raining today. Much like it did that day a thousand years ago. A thousand years ago, you had stood across from Sukuna just like now... back then, Sukuna remembers you had told him that it was the end. That it would be the last day he'd ever lay eyes on you.

Sukuna could have taken you back then. Even if he had to tie you up and lock you away, at least then, you'd still be his. Even under the reality that you had betrayed him and took the side of his enemies, Sukuna let you go. That was the last act of mercy his love for you would allow.

How bittersweet it felt then to see you here. Alive. A thousand years later when he was sure you had fallen. An act of betrayal against yourself--a fitting end for you.

Sukuna stepped towards you, against his better judgement. His sandals moving across the pavement, through puddles until he was a metre from you.

The person before him, he was sure it was you. It was your face, your eyes, your soul. Yet, why then did you not recognise him? Why then were you looking at him like he was a stranger? Like you hadn't broken the heart of a demon in two?

"You..." Sukuna's voice trailed off. His red eyes pierced you, searching for a piece of you that could see him as he was. He should hate you. No, he did. He hated you. He hated that he still loved you. That seeing your face a thousand years later made his old, cold bones warm again.

Sukuna was moving before he even realised it. He pushed his umbrella out towards you, angling it so it protected you from the heavy rain. Rain that now fell harshly on him, his pink hair sticking to his forehead, water droplets running down his face.

"It's raining." He grumbles. "You'll get sick if you stand out here. Who would look after you then, hm?"