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“Sorry, but I can’t die just yet.”
Cocky.
Far too cocky.
Both the cursed prince and the shaman.
Yuuji doesn’t know how it happened-- one second he was parrying his assailant’s sword with a pathetic little knife imbued with cursed energy, both the sword and knife snapping and he gets another slash to add to his collection of growing wounds, the next he’s bound by a shikigami (Rika? Is that it’s name?) and stabbed.
God damn it.
The world around him falls apart and bleeds red at the seams, clouded amber meeting dull blues and greys, barely registering the sorcerer’s mouth moving as he fully loses himself to the dark.
“Tch.”
The King of Curses rises from his throne, catching said brat in his arms. Those shamans never change, do they? Don’t they know not to touch what’s his? The brat himself isn’t much better, continuously pushing himself past his limits without thought or care. Always so high-maintenance.
Cocky.
Always far too cocky, both that thoroughly annoying brat and those pesky shamans around him.
Sighing, Ryoumen Sukuna cradles the boy gently in his arms, leaving a peck on his vessel’s forehead and watches as the protection spell washes over him in sleek red marks similar to his own.
“Rest easy, my dear vessel,”
The curse stares the foolish shaman from beyond his domain, red eyes ablaze with malice.
“Your King is here.”
The sky falls and the world burns all around them. Humanity would regret the day they decided to touch what's his