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Something has attached itself to Sukuna.
It stirs him from the deep slumber he had settled into for countless years now. A curse or some foolhardy human who consumed one of his fingers? No, this feels different. And it is coming from every fragment of his being rather than just one.
Whatever it is, Sukuna can tell that there’s some trace of cursed energy behind it. He opens his senses. They’re limited given his current state, but he can make out the source of this new phenomena like this.
It’s a red string.
What a farce.
Sukuna had heard the tales about the string and the disastrous fate awaiting those whom it tied together. He regarded them with amusement, a testament to the folly of love, and counted his blessings that he had not fallen victim to such a thing.
It seems he had been premature in that regard.
And yet, despite it all, the string dredges up something in him. Who is it that the heavens deemed to be his match? A rival to challenge him in a way no one has ever done so before? Or a pretty little pet he can indulge himself with?
Regardless of who it is, this change at least promises something to break the monotony his existence has become.
Sukuna returns to his slumber and waits.
The string tugs at Sukuna’s being.
Again, he stirs. This time, the tugging continues instead of dying off. It’s insistent, but he is unable to do anything in his current state but wait and see what will happen next. No matter; if the other end of the string is pulling just as hard, the one destined for him will come to him soon enough.
Time passes, but it’s not as long as the gap Sukuna had endured between his discovery of the string and this moment. The string’s tugging grows forceful, humming against the core of his being. The one matched to him draws close to one of his fingers, but with the seals on it he can do little but hear a voice speak from outside.
“… school’s guardian? Why’d my string lead to you?”
It’s male and boyish. That’s a bit of a surprise. He had half-expected a woman to be on the other end. But from what Sukuna had heard about pairs tied by the string, both individuals being of the same sex wasn’t unheard of. And it’s not as though he has a particular need for a woman; having offspring isn’t a desire of his.
The rasp of wood against wood brings Sukuna back to the present. His fated match must be opening the box his finger is in. He strains against the bindings on it. Even though they’ve greatly weakened with age, they’re still strong enough to keep him from perceiving more of the world outside. Irritation prickles at him. He’s waited this long just to hear a snatch of someone’s voice?
Then, a hand touches his finger. The moment contact is made, a connection snaps into place.
And now, Sukuna has a crack he can slip through.
He does just that, snatching that hand before it can move away. With his other hands he grabs his intended by the shoulder, the waist, and the chin. He tilts the head up and looks down to get a proper look.
A boy, one on the cusp of manhood, stands before Sukuna. He’s lean, but the flesh under his grip feels sturdy and supple. His face still has the remnants of baby fat clinging to its contours, softening its edges. His eyes are bright and slightly wide with surprise. Most of his hair around the sides is shorn close to the scalp, leaving a dandelion tuft on the top of his head. The color is the same as Sukuna’s own when he had a physical form, albeit a lighter shade.
In fact, the more Sukuna looks at this foolish brat who has stumbled onto his finger, the more he recognizes traces of his own features in the other’s face. Not by much, but enough to warrant his curiosity. He’s sure that the bloodline he came from had ended with him all that time ago. There wouldn’t have been anyone left to have descendants lasting to this moment. Kenjaku’s work, perhaps? There’s not a trace of cursed energy coming from the brat, though. And with how boldly he had handled Sukuna’s finger, he couldn’t possibly be a sorcerer in any capacity.
Sukuna rubs rough circles into the brat’s hip. That gaze has yet to tear away from him. From foolish bravery or paralyzed fear? Regardless of which it is, he finds the face pleasing. He hopes that this morsel will be more than a pretty face, though. Maybe not a challenger, but someone who will warm his bed and take his fingers and cock. Entertainment between his bouts of carnage.
Time to see.
Sukuna leans down over the brat while tilting his head up until he brushes over the other’s lips. They’re soft and pliant against his, and they part at his touch. He slips into the waiting mouth. Tastes something that’s sweet, but not overpowering. More. He wants more. He reaches further, intent on sliding down the brat’s gullet and claiming him from the inside.
The brat pulls his hand away from Sukuna’s finger.
Like that, the connection snaps.
He snarls and reaches along the string, which yanks at his very being. But there is nothing for him to grab, no crack in the bindings to squeeze through. The brat must be too far away, probably spooked by the encounter.
That warm flesh and the taste of linger behind. The first bit of true contact he’s had in ages and it only lasted a few seconds. It’s not enough. Just a sip of water in a drought that leaves him wanting.
At least the string will ensure that Sukuna will meet that brat again. Whether the boy comes to him or he incarnates and tracks him down by the string, he would make the troublesome thing regret leaving as he did.
And besides, his little bride would need to learn his place soon.