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The faceless sketch of a woman he’d grown to call Mother had told him, once during the darkest days of his life in which she was still alive, that he’s bound to attract monsters and mad gods anywhere his steps might lead him. It’s written in his palm. The dark twisted destiny that ought to forge his path.
Sukuna only started to believe her after she had lifted the dusty veil over her face that otherwise she’d never touched, revealing hole of a gaping mouth, filled to the brim with sharp glinting needles, outlined with crusty thin lips black as smoke.
“To die that young would be such a waste,” that grotesque mouth had spoken in three voices at once. When she let down the veil again, they instantly blended into one perfect human voice. “Knowing how powerful your origin is.”
Barely seven years old and scared to the bones, Sukuna ran to his room, locked himself away for roughly two days before Mother grew impatient and broke down the door. A tray of food balanced on her hand as if it was just another day of her son throwing tantrums.
The day after, he’d never gone to school anymore. Not that he’d miss his friends. He always thought they’re all weaklings and have done nothing except to irk him when they’re unable to keep up with his pace.
Mother introduced him to new study courses, said to be more important than absolutely everything he’d learned in class. Later he found that it’s all about myth. Fairytale no less. Ones he used to read before bed but delivered in a way that’s much more gruesome. Sukuna absorbed them nonetheless, Mother by his side pointing to the illustration here and there, naming every god and goddess and queer creatures in between.
“This is your father. Ares, God of War.” She pointed to a man clad in bloodied armour, wielding javelin and a shield. “That makes you a demigod.”
Thousands of questions were spiralling inside the blizzard that is Sukuna’s mind. In the eye of storm, however, there’s only one important enough to rise above all confusion.
“But what are you?”
At first, silence fell upon them for so long Sukuna was sure she wouldn’t answer. But then Mother touched her veil. The fabric lifted up just a little so her three-voices could be heard.
“We are Erinyes.”
That day, Sukuna learned about the cursed spirits who were born in the depth of Tartarus, immortal souls that have been lurking around haunting vulnerable demigods ever since Titans and giants alike walked this earth.
Sukuna learned how they killed his real mother.
How the three of them, now under the disguise of one, have taken an unusual interest in him.
He’d tried to fight her numerous times, thinking every way he could do to kill her and escape the house, probably pushing his luck in search for his father. Surely the god of war would save him, wouldn’t he? But he was too weak and knew too little. The best he got from his plans are the knowledge that Erinyes couldn’t be defeated. Not with a knife, his bare fingers, nor his teeth.
So Sukuna waited.
Three more years in the prison of a house with a monster of a guard.
He’s ten when the Erinyes finally deemed him worthy to finally meet their master, the one who commanded them to murder his mother and taken him in.
King of Titans, Kronos.
Two choices were served to Sukuna on a silver plate: fight for him or die in a flame.
He’s never been one not to choose violence.
It’s in his blood, after all.
Being a demigod is a doomed fate. Years of worshipping Kronos had taught him so.
First came the regrets, but it’s not that Sukuna can offer anything else that might save his life earlier. Following the burning steps of Kronos was survival. No matter how many scars he got in return, the thought of revenge kept him alive and intact.
Curse by curse was marked along Sukuna’s skin, an indisputable sign of a problem child that acted as Kronos’ Chosen One. Most were just chains to keep him in leash. To tame him. For if he was free there was no doubt he would take and create as many chances to escape, fight and fight and struggle like he’s always known.
It’s all over his face and body, the curse marks, and each had ways to torture him everytime he misbehaved in the slightest. All those pain did nothing except to surge his utter animosity, the dark lethal thing slithering deep in him yet properly concealed underneath his rough facade.
Sukuna beared the pain once more as the curse mark around his arms twisted and cracked his bones.
The rage coiled, waiting.
The Second Titan War started with an enormous blast. Death and destruction were brought into the mortal world while it was deep in a magic slumber casted by Hypnos, the God of Dreams.
As swords and shields clashed against one another, wild beasts’ claws ripped through concrete, and the crisp smell of trepidation was carried amidst battle cries, Sukuna began to realize that he’s not meant to stand beside The Great Titan at all. Never in the first place. And it had nothing to do with his own resentment.
He looked among his battered peers, the monsters he’d long since associated himself with and few other demigods who he never batted an eye to, for they weren’t nearly half as powerful as him.
Kronos was weak. A notion dawned inside him, rapid and unexpected and probably far stretched, yet he clinged to it. He wanted to keep me because he was weak.
And isn’t that ironic? Sukuna wanted to laugh. So he did. Loud and boisterous. Mocking.
He’s stronger than that of an ancient force. He’s way above a mere Chosen One.
There were thousands of other demigods on the opposing side, fearlessly charging against them all while shouting in the name of Olympian with their weapons high in the air. They’re just like him in the terms of looks. No monstrosity features can be spotted.
All those similarities weren't the one that coerced him to proceed with his final action, though. He saw them all but none he’d found interesting enough.
He pierced his way through the monsters along the battlefield, swinging his javelin to absolutely anyone that as much as grazed him. One that was stupid enough to try to attack was sent flying, minced into chunks of limb.
Then he stopped short in front of the massive gold coffin where the remnants of Kronos resided. Such a pitiful miserable being he actually was. His mighty power of flame couldn’t even hurt Sukuna; not anymore. He caught the sparks flying in the air by the coffin, and watched it vanish under his crushing palm. Sukuna made sure the other monsters saw it too. Let them fear.
How dare he obey him when it should be the other way around?
Spurred by all these abrupt realizations, something deep in him snapped. All the pain and hatred that were trapped within his curse marks greedily flowed into the very core of his existence, band together to create a new force, more destructive than anything else he’d ever released.
It was overwhelming. It was cruel like him. His mind spinning in different directions where he could shred and destroy and kill and trample and just tear everything apart.
He felt like he could eat the world raw.
As Kronos’ body was slowly forming, Sukuna drove his javelin straight into his heart.
“What the fuck?!” He hears someone shriek.
That prompts Sukuna to blink his eyes open, hissing at the blood streaming down from his open wound below his ribcage. He hadn’t even realized it was there. How long had he been out anyway? They have reached the peak of the battle some time ago and now all fights gradually begin to taper off.
Through the muddling of his vision, Sukuna looks up.
The face that he greets him is the one resembling his own before he’s gotten all those curse marks.
“What the fuck,” he echoes back, calmer.
“What the fuck!” the boy screams in his face, louder, expression tinted with pure horror. Abruptly throwing his head to the side, he calls, “Nobara, did you see this?!”
“Hades’ shadowy balls, stop yelling! You scared him off,” a girl with short brunette hair replies from a distance away. As she jogs closer to them, her steps falter, mouth hanging open in a beginning of another stream of what the fuck.
Sukuna raises his hand before that could happen. “We’re all confused, I know. Shut the fuck up. Also I’m not scared.”
“But who are you?” the boy presses.
“Well, who are you?”
They stare down at each other, equally stubborn to have their answer first. Sukuna doesn’t feel all that heated, though, even with this new unfamiliar power humming melody under his curse marks. Like a response to his current state of emotion.
Now he almost feels nothing. Cinder in the aftermath of massive detonation.
“Yuuji, I’m gonna … uh.” The girl makes a gesture pointing over her shoulder. “Gojo and Megumi.”
The boy doesn’t do much as glancing and instead continues to level Sukuna from where he’s crouching. “You’re the one who killed Kronos.”
“You saw that?”
“Me and a few other demigods, but nobody believed us until Kronos’ monsters started shouting about that among themselves. You somewhat flee out of the scene, then. Do you remember anything?”
Sukuna considers. The feeling of his muscles contracting as he pushed his javelin into Kronos’ tough form is still fresh in mind, so is the eruption of shocked roars from The Great Titan’s followers screaming “traitor!” at him, the rushing adrenaline and cruel satisfaction he’d felt … but what happened next? His precious javelin is nowhere to be seen.
“I don’t know,” he croaks, suddenly feeling exhausted from that mere effort of trying to tie his memories back. His eyelids threaten to fall once more.
“Are you okay?” There’s a hint of worry in the boy’s cracking voice. Other than the curse marks, their voice is another distinct difference between them.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Yuuji Itadori. What’s your name?”
Name wields power, he’d been told. Never give it to strangers like a toddler wouldn’t accept a candy from one. He wants to tell this Yuuji boy to fuck off, but his attention is quickly straying as the sight of three unfamiliar figures comes into view. One of them being the girl from earlier, Nobara.
Yuuji notices. He looks back and stands. “You guys need to see this.”
Walking behind Nobara are two guys with contrasting hair color, black and white, but matching disheveled tufts.
The white haired one strolls closer towards them. Even with his towering height, the suspiciously lack of wounds after such battle, and his bright, unsettling blue eyes, Sukuna finds his gaze fixed on the black haired boy behind him, trailing like a shadow. A pretty one at that.
He can’t help his mind wandering to the image of the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, whose ethereal beauty was said to rival the sun and moon and everything in between. Sukuna remembers how her form constantly changes to fit one’s specific desire.
Right now he genuinely has no idea. Is the boy her son or is he just another form of the goddess herself?
At the presence of someone looming over him, Sukuna snaps out of his stupor, instantly defensive. “What?”
That tall white haired guy. “What made you change sides?” He doesn’t even bother to crouch down to regard him.
Not entirely an unexpected question, but Sukuna thought he’d ask something that’s more glaringly obvious. Like his curse marks. Or how him and that Yuuji boy are basically … twins. “Why would I tell you?”
One eyebrow was raised. “So I wouldn’t kill you.”
“Think you can?”
He probably can. Spending so many years among monstority, Sukuna knows a deadly aura when he senses one, and this guy is basking in it.
Yuuji and Nobara speechlessly watch their exchange. Only then the black haired boy decides to step in. “Satoru,” his voice is light and smooth when he talks. “I feel like we’d better question him later at the camp.”
The tall guy levels him once more before finally breaking eye contact with one last sharp glare, a silence threat. As he turns to face the boy, he lets out a long and exaggerating groan, an action clashing so much with his previously cold exterior it gives Sukuna whiplash.
“Megumiiii,” he coos. “Always so considerate of me!”
“He’s bleeding, Satoru. Have someone tend to him.”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “Yuuji, Nobara.”
“Wait! I still need to know if we’re related.” It’s Yuuji again who’s talking. “At least tell me, is your last name Itadori?”
Everyone’s eyes are on him, waiting, but only a pair of glossy green that catches and holds his gaze. The kind of green that resembles a pool of poison yet so alluring he’s willing to down all of it. Megumi, huh?
Sukuna stares at him and no one else as he utters, “Sukuna Ryomen.”
Name is power, after all.
Everything is a blur of events as they drag him through a long process of trial that will ultimately decide his fate.
“We should execute him. That kind of unpredictable danger has no place in our camp,” some say with a poorly concealed trembling voice. “No way, it would be a waste of demigod,” the other replies, “We’ve lost quite a number already.” And the argument goes on. Sukuna tunes out most of it.
“He’s my brother!” Yuuji yells at some point.
Sukuna snorts, self-deprecating. They just discovered that yes, apparently both of them are indeed Ares’ twins, no more than three days after arriving at Camp Half-Blood. What Yuuji had known is that their mother was killed by black winged creature that speaks with three voices, and luckily he was quick to be escorted to the camp right after the incident. Sukuna told him the creature was called Erinyes, and that they’re the ones who had raised him.
He hadn’t expected the onslaught of tears from Yuuji, really, more so from Nobara who turns out to be the daughter of Ares, which technically makes all of them siblings.
Sukuna is supposed to stay at Ares’ Cabin. But since his existence is still more of a foe and less of a friend to the campers, the camp counselor, a centaur named Chiron, placed him in the Big House instead for the meantime.
‘Meantime’ being his trial, currently held in the mess hall this evening where every camper was asked to bear witness. Sukuna sits before the makeshift judge’s podium in front of the hall.
The elderly in particular are really not fond of the idea of him living in the camp. Or live at all, for that matter. They don’t bother to lighten their disapproval either. “He was Kronos’ follower and worshipper long before he’s your brother, Yuuji.”
“He was forced! The curse marks are enough evidence!”
“He delivered the last killing blow!” Nobara slams her hand on the table. “Not even Gojo could touch Kronos at that moment.”
Satoru Gojo makes a loud booing noise from where he sits at Zeus’ table, feet propped up and sunglasses perched on top of his nose. “Mind you, I was busy keeping Typhon at bay.”
Of course that prick is the son of Zeus, Sukuna had thought, not surprised in the slightest.
What irks him is that Gojo doesn’t sit alone. Megumi’s with him the whole time, watching the trial unfold with that lulling gaze of his.
Sukuna wonders if they’re siblings, though kind of unlikely.
“Still, if it wasn’t for him, Kronos would’ve destroyed more than he did.”
“But would be defeated nonetheless, by me.”
Megumi must be noticing Sukuna’s eyes boring at him as he glances to return his stare, expectant and somehow challenging, but only a second passes until he’s back facing the judges.
“I think the fact that he’s a demigod who killed The Great Titan is enough for him to be welcomed at this camp.” That’s the first time Megumi speaks after being obediently quiet for the entirety of the trial.
“That still doesn’t—”
“It doesn’t repeal his mistakes, true that.” Everyone in the hall practically gawks at Megumi when he’s dismissing one of the judges. “So think of it as an act of atonement instead.”
Green eyes flashing to Sukuna again, briefer than before, like a secret only meant for them.
There. It spurs Sukuna to at least try. Not only to save himself but also win that unsaid challenge Megumi just granted him. “Give me a chance to prove it.”
“Prove what?” one of the judges asks.
“That I belong here.”
Megumi’s eyes already meet his when Sukuna glances back.
He wants to share more secrets with him.
On the podium, the judges exchange whispers with one another, talking with themselves as the hall breaks up in small chatter. After what feels like hours, one of them, most likely the leader, stands and speak for the whole room to hear:
“Sukuna Ryomen’s trial will be extended for one month. During that time you’ll be expected to get acquainted with various camp’s activities and perhaps take a bunch of solo missions. If we see no … harmful behavior during the period, you’ll be free to stay for the rest of the time.”
Yuuji quickly adds, “Let him stay in our cabin!” which results in many expressions of dread and apprehension among other Ares’ children. Except for him and Nobara, it seems like they’re more than happy with Sukuna staying in the Big House.
“We’ll wait until the trial is over.”
The children of Ares collectively let out a breath of relief.
“Dismissed.”
Following the preliminary trial, dinner is later served at the same hall.
Sukuna is reluctant as Yuuji and Nobara drag him to Ares’ table, making him sit sandwiched between them both.
“Can we hang out later?” Yuuji asks while filling his plate. “I really have lots to ask, I hope you don’t mind. I can hardly meet you before since Chiron was so hell-bent on keeping you inside the house.”
“Please, count me in. I promise my questions are more interesting than Yuuji’s.” Nobara doesn’t hesitate bumping shoulder against him. As if they’re childhood buddies or something.
Sukuna grunts his agreement, only half listening as he’s looking straight at Zeus’ table where Satoru Gojo and Megumi are having an easy conversation in the middle of their dinner.
One idea pops in, then. “Who’s your friend’s godly parent?”
“Megumi?” Nobara follows his line of sight, her smirk forming. “Take a guess, and find out yourself.”
“What? Why?”
She just shrugs at Sukuna’s obvious irritation. “It’s more fun that way. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, had ever guessed it right.”
Once again Sukuna thinks of Aphrodite. “Why should I guess when I can just follow him to see which cabin he’ll sleep in tonight,” he remarks.
“He sleeps at Gojo’s.” Seemingly unaware of Sukuna’s sudden strained face and tightening grip around his glass, Yuuji continues. “Not because he’s the son of Zeus, but rather his godly parent has no place here, to put it harshly.”
Sukuna frowns. So, not Aphrodite. “Why doesn’t he stay at Hermes’ Cabin? That’s where they dump any other camper.”
“Megumi’s godly parent is a … special case.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Like I said, find out yourself.” Nobara takes a bite of roasted lamb and hums in delight. “Now shut the fuck up and eat in silence.”
Nobody has ever told Sukuna to shut the fuck up, actually.
He eats in irritation only because the lamb tastes good.
Against his better judgment, Sukuna actually does follow Megumi.
It’s not completely impromptu. He saw everyone else including Gojo were approaching the massive hearth that was burning bright in the center of a circle made of cabins, while Megumi had instead walked towards a completely different way.
This is the first time Sukuna can freely wander around the camp without Chiron or some other eldelry keeping watchful eyes over his back. Still, he has to be back to the Big House right after this … occasion. Bonfire night, Nobara had told him during dinner, where everyone sings and dances and gets drunk and all in all having fun.
It would also be his first time to experience the event, but Sukuna had sneaked away before Yuuji or Nobara could notice him.
Megumi is at the skirt of the forest when Sukuna reaches him. The pale glow of the moon illuminates the narrow space that’s not covered by the leaves canopy where he stands in the middle of it. Darkness surrounds him from every direction, rustling as it follows the movement of the forest, like they’re about to reach and devour him whole.
The peacefulness written all over Megumi’s face states he’s far from being scared.
Sukuna can’t decide if the sight looks ethereal in an eerie way, or rather eerie in an ethereal way.
Then Megumi makes a sign using both hands, splitting his fingers like forming something resembling a gaping mouth. He has yet to realize Sukuna’s presence.
It’s probably the light tricking him, it’s probably not, but there’s a flow within the shadow closest to Megumi.
The flowing continues, smooth and swift, until the shadow itself materializes into a perfectly solid shape.
The shape of one gigantic hound.
Three red dots creating a triangle, connected by lines, etched to the greyish black fur of its forehead. Sukuna is caught off guard by his own amazement. The hound’s body is probably the same size as an ice cream truck, its glinting sword-like claws digging into the soil.
Megumi is about to pat the hound’s snout but halts when it growls over the boy’s shoulder. Its glowing red eyes match the ones he glares at; Sukuna’s.
Turning back to see the cause of the hound’s disturbance, Megumi’s eyebrows raise in curiosity when he sees Sukuna staring. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello,” Sukuna replies dumbly. The sound of laughter and joyful singing by the bonfire can be heard even from here. “I’m not interested in the … bonfire night. So I look around the camp.”
“You haven’t even seen the bonfire.”
“It’s precisely like any other bonfire in the world, I bet.”
Megumi snorts, and Sukuna takes that as a cue that his company might be not unwanted.
Behind Megumi, the hound growls again, a boisterous rumble vibrating through the still atmosphere of the forest. This time he’s quick to calm it with a familiar and affectionate series of petting.
“This is Gyoku, my hellhound,” he says.
Although confused, Sukuna is glad for the change of topic. “Where did he come?”
“Tartarus, if speaking of his actual origin. But I keep him in my shadow realm.”
“How did you tame him?”
“Family inheritance.”
Sukuna steps closer into the light. Hellhound from Tartarus and hereditary ability to control shadow … the significant bits of information easily fall into place in his head. It’s pretty obvious now, so he’s confident when he claims, “Your godly parent is Hades.”
Yet, Megumi’s smirk confirms anything but. “Wrong.”
“No way.” Then again, Hades does have a cabin here. Sukuna crosses his arms.
Megumi shrugs and continues petting Gyoku. “It’s my mother.”
Which goddess that possesses the kind of power resembling Hades’? Exile goddess, at that, not an Olympian. The one who has no place among benevolent demigods like them. Sukuna rocks his brain to recall every myth lesson he had with the Erinyes, everything regarding the Underworld and its wretched deities.
Even the children of minor goddesses like Hecate and Nemesis sleep in their own cabin. Megumi’s mother must be truly on another level. Of shadow and hell ….
One name flashes in his mind.
“You are son of Nyx, aren’t you?” Sukuna whispers. “The Goddess of Night.”
It honestly makes much more sense than him being the son of Hades or Aphrodite. Nyx is a mixture of both combined with her own exquisite, enchanting beauty among broad darkness that is her home, her source of power. She’s not entirely evil but also certainly not kind enough to fight along other Olympian Gods, none that Sukuna remembers. That’s why she and her children don’t have a place here.
Megumi’s face softens, all gentle features and long lashes and plush lips and just being so fucking stunning. “True I am.”
It’s as if the night itself is shifting at the revelation. More fragments of memory start to unfold in Sukuna’s mind. “Do you know Nyx is the only goddess that Zeus feared?”
“I heard stories about it. She’s one of those primordial beings.”
“So you realize you can hand Gojo’s ass back to him.”
“Perhaps. What’s with him?”
“He looks like someone should put him in his place, no?” Sukuna won’t waste this precious hour to talk about that annoying rascal. Still, his curiosity keeps getting the better of him. “Why are you staying in his cabin and not in Hermes’, anyway?”
“It’s his idea. Satoru was the one who brought me here so he’s kinda … fastidious about it.”
That’s a lot of layers to peel. “Oh.”
“Also, Hermes’ Cabin is too crowded. I can use the privilege, you know.” Megumi’s hand that’s resting upon Gyoku’s snout moves to grab onto his shoulder, like an unconscious reflex, and his next words are uttered in a low murmur, “It’s not like that with him if you’re wondering.”
Before Sukuna can say that he’s definitely not wondering anything (he is), Megumi plops down on the grass and pats the spot next to him.
“Come here, take a seat.”
They ended up spending the rest of the time there, sitting in the poorly obscured space where the moon bathes on them and a hellhound sprawling about on the ground, snarling away at any malicious growls coming from the forest. Bonfire night be damned.
The conversation flows like an old friend’s chatter between them, neither awkwardness nor tension stay longer than necessary, and it’s all entirely too comfortable, filled with so much familiarity, that Sukuna is left dumbfounded by the fact he didn't even know this boy exists a week ago.
At some point, Megumi guides Sukuna’s hand to stroke Gyoku’s giant head, to get to know him, he said. The thickness of Gyoku’s fur almost swallows his palm.
In return, Sukuna lowers his face and asks if Megumi wants to learn about his curse marks. It’s never been as much of a secret; back then every single Kronos’ followers knew about his curse marks and their meaning even without Sukuna knowing their name.
If everyone in the camp is bound to learn about his curse mark sooner or later as well, he wants Megumi to be the first one.
Sukuna lifts the Camp Half-Blood signature bright orange shirt to reveal more inked-like markings.
“Are you scared of them?”
“I think they just like tattoos.” Attentive and slow, Megumi touches his forehead. “What does this one mean?”
Sukuna shivers. His hand is cold. “Obedience. So I should always follow orders or else he’d distort my brain.”
The touch trails to his cheekbone, the underside of his eye, down his jaw. “And this?”
“Punishment. I’ve made mistakes and this one monster skinned me here. Twice. The scars are covered underneath ink.”
Now Megumi reaches for the black bands around his biceps. “Here?”
“It was to reduce my strength.”
Sukuna’s wrists are next. “Here, too?
“It was chain made to break my bones had I tried to attack someone with my bare hands.”
“What about the ones on your ankle?”
“More chain. So I couldn’t run away.”
“What about these?” Megumi’s fleeting touch grazes at his chest down to his abdomen, unashamed yet there’s truly nothing suggestive about it. “Chain or punishment?”
“The one curse that started it all,” Sukuna mutters. “With this mark I was doomed to be Kronos’ Chosen One.”
Megumi retracts his hand back. “You’re free of him now.”
“I am. Thank gods I am.”
Relief floods his tone in a wave, content sigh tailing at the end of his sentence, and that’s when Sukuna realizes he’s been somehow anticipating a fight about to happen. For someone to attack him out of nowhere.
That’s how he grew up, after all: to never feel safe. He cannot seem to let go of his defensive stance for fear his freedom and escapade might not be true at all.
Sukuna puts his shirt back on before laid himself on the ground, head pillowed on his arms. “Please wake me up if someone is searching for me. By someone I mean Chiron or another oldfuck.”
“Really?” Megumi snaps his fingers and the next thing he knows Gyoku disappears back into the shadow, much like how he had emerged from it. “Well, you can suffer because I’m staying.”
What’s the suffering in laying under the moonlight with the son of Night himself? Sukuna starts to drift off.
In the aftermath of a blinding explosion, he comes to acknowledge that the touch of darkness can feel like what he imagines to be a lover’s embrace.[]