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What Could Have Been (And Wasn’t)

Summary:

Sukuna ponders on what his relationship to Yuuji Itadori could have been if things had been only slightly different.

Inner musings by Sukuna with the info from chapter 257

Notes:

This was written and published before the reveal that Jin was actually Sukuna’s twin and not Yuji, which in my honest opinion sucks. Though it is my fault for thinking Gege had finally cooked something.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

As he stood facing the brat, he couldn’t help but wonder if the endless devotion and pure love the brat seemed to hold for his friends could have once been directed at him. That maybe had he not eaten him in the womb, they would have been born together, back in the Heian era. That things could have been different.

He would have not had to face her endless scorn and wrath alone. He would have had someone by his side, with whom to huddle together in the frigid winter nights, during which he was denied the thinnest of blankets and the smallest piece of coal.

Scrapping by together until they could amass enough power to rule as one. As equals. He could have filled that void not even Uraume, with their endless devotion and subservience could not fill.

He could have had those eyes stare into his own not with hatred but with love and care. Felt that foreign emotion swell in his own chest in return, filling his heart only one, only ever one until it was ripe with love, like the sweetest fruit. Warmth seeping into his extremities, warming his body in ways not even his strongest flames could, as they only burned cold like the soul from which they came from

Mouth only one contorting into a smile unlike any he had ever truly worn. Small and soft, instead of wide and harsh. Meant to comfort and depict joy, instead of aiming to frighten and illustrate madness.

Eyes only two of them turning softly into the shape of crescent moons, with two pairs of crow’s feet besides them, alluding to a life lived in happiness and comfort.

Arms only two, should have only ever been two that would rise to cradle another body to his own. Holding it firmly yet softly, heart only one rejoicing in his chest at the feeling of its other half so nearby. Two arms, please only two rising to guard and comfort, instead of pillage and torture.

He reflects on the memories of his vessel, and the feeling of being held inside the cradle made of an older sibling’s arms and love.

Wondering if that could have once been his own.

He could have felt those arms hug his body tightly and warmly. A promise of care and protection. An invitation to let go of his tension, to drop his guard and let the other take care of him.

And he could have held him in return, gently like he knew deep down he deserved. Could have read him poems from famous poets, while he held him in his four two arms, maybe even sang the ones he had invented. Sharing them with another, letting them materialize somewhere outside of his mind. Words and rimes painting colorful pictures that would entertain and make him laugh.

The laugh that no matter the vessel always sounded like the loud yet harmonic sound of wind bells ringing during a warm summer afternoon. He could have had that sound elicit the gentle and oh so foreign warmth of love inside of him.

So alien in comparison to the frigid bite of scorn, hatred and derision he had become so familiar from the day he was born. Alone and unwanted in a hostile land, that wanted nothing more than to swallow him up whole.

To see him fail for sins he did not know he had committed, sins he was too young to truly understand. A helpless child that sought nothing more than comfort and love.

Her words carving permanent wounds inside of his mind, that would bleed for all of his immortal life. Their rot and festering preventing him from ever truly gaining love.

A feeling he voyeuristically experienced through his vessels’ memories, vicariously enjoying the feeling and warmth they provided.

With a start he realized he could have felt and had a lot of things he spent his life deprived off, had things only been different.

He could have felt the company of an equal and the comfort of their presence.

He could have felt the thrill and enjoyment he felt during the battle against Gojo Satoru again and again. A game of tug and push for the ages.

He could have felt the love he now turned his nose up at and scorned, projecting his dejectedness at any who he perceived as enjoying what he could not.

He could have had a brother.

A twin.

Half of his soul besides him and not lost on some endless void. Left in prime position for the taking of mad scientists.

He was pulled from his musings as he saw the brat ready his fist again with cursed energy, face contorted into a hateful sneer. That made the tinniest part of himself recoil in distaste hurt. 

Well, it was never productive to ponder on what could have been. That was something only weak people did, and Sukuna was anything but weak.

Notes:

I hate Gege and Sukuna but I don’t know what came over me while writing this, I was cooking dinner and the next thing I knew I had this written out.