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Sukuna found the strange boy alone on the street, sitting on his haunches and watching a line of ants pass by from the cover of an abandoned temple. He was coated in dirt and bruises– maybe some superficial cuts, too. But beneath the must of his soot-darkened hair were the telltale strawberry pink locks that stuck up and curled from his head in every which-way.
Oh?
Sukuna had been traveling with Uraume, attempting to scout out a blacksmith with what the elites of this land deemed unfathomable skill. They had separated briefly as Sukuna had scented out shamans in the area, but with dusk descending upon the earth, he preferred to deal with the issue himself while Uraume set up camp for him to return to.
He had expected, upon pressing closer to the village, to be met with the sorcerers guarding the town and eradicate the pests quickly and efficiently. What he had not anticipated, however, was this young thing.
Sukuna had been staring for a long moment before the brat, at last, tilted his chin up to catch him. His eyes were wide and a sickly-sweet honey brown that, when they caught the light just right, seemed to glow golden. Beneath those eyes, however, was something quite curious; crescent shaped ridges, perhaps scars or a birthmark, visible under all that grime on his face.
Intrigued, Sukuna took a step closer.
The boy couldn’t have been more than three; though he was malnourished, baby fat still clung to his cheeks. He did not seem afraid, even with the abomination before him. Rather, he was wary, his eyes tracking every movement of the other’s.
When enough space had been closed between them, Sukuna knelt down, inspecting the little thing properly. The kid tensed for a split second, but when nothing struck him, he seemed to come to the conclusion that the newcomer was not going to harm him. He visibly relaxed.
“Hi,” the brat said at last, playing with the fraying edges of his kosode, which was far too big for a tiny thing like he. “You look like me.”
An unexpected laugh burst free from Sukuna’s mouth at the remark. “Do I, now? It is hard to tell, with how filthy you are.”
“Yes!” The kid surged forward, hunching over and tugging at his hair as if to get the other to pay attention to it. “Look, look! See? Same hair.”
So spirited.
Sukuna would have thought an abandoned child to be elusive and antisocial, but the kid was practically brimming with energy, his vocabulary advanced for one his age.
Still, to say Sukuna wasn’t amused would be a lie. For he, too, had noticed their similarities in appearance.
Pink hair was an unnatural shade for one to have, and though not impossible for larger clans to have their own distinct hair colors like the Gojo clan’s white, this particular shade had only been seen on Sukuna himself.
What was worse, he could smell the cursed energy swelling in the kid’s chest.
Something strange was afoot.
Out of some deeper, instinctual desire, Sukuna reached over and lifted the boy by the back of his garment, dangling him up in the air. This, apparently, elicited a happy squeal out of the brat, and he wriggled around in the air like a beetle on its back. The kid stretched to look at the hand that had grabbed him, and suddenly realized the man before him had four arms– the latter set having been previously hidden by the sleeves of his kimono.
“Four arms!” The brat voiced his awe, writhing around and making grabby hands. “You have four arms!”
Sukuna shifted him upwards so they were face-to-face. “Were the four eyes not amusing enough for you, brat?”
As if he’d only just noticed, the boy gaped at his face, then began to reach for the mask covering half of it. Sukuna wrinkled his nose and let out a low growl, reverberating in his chest, whilst bearing his teeth in warning.
This, of course, did nothing to dissuade the brat, and instead he rocked himself backward in a fit of giggles.
Perhaps Sukuna should reveal the mouth on his stomach and truly scare the brat. Although, something told him that would not go as he wished either.
“You are a fascinating little wretch,” he mused, bringing his thumb up to wipe a smudge of dirt on the boy’s cheekbone. With the touch, he was able to ascertain the lines beneath his eyes were scar tissue, not a birthmark.
But who would carve a symbol of Sukuna into a child?
With a humph, he deposited the kid back on the ground.
The brat whined, tugging at his skirt, but Sukuna paid him no mind. His nose twitched. The sorcerers were here.
In less than a second, Sukuna disappeared, hiding in the shadows to watch. The boy, after a few moments of stunned confusion, had begun to cry; what had started in mere sniffles had exacerbated into larger, soupy tears that fell down his face and left streaks along his cheeks from where the water had washed away the dirt.
He trembled, then began to wander away from the temple, searching for Sukuna. But, before he could get very far, two shamans arrived.
Immediately upon seeing them, the kid froze, his eyes wide in terror. Terror. Not for The Disgraced One, but for these measly swine.
A knot began to tie itself achingly taut in Sukuna’s chest.
“I could’ve sworn there was something here,” said one of them. He was looking pointedly at the forest’s edge that the temple backed into. “A large curse presence. Had to be first-grade, at least.”
“There’s nothing here except this kid,” said the other sorcerer. At the reference to him, the boy began to slink away, but was caught by the shaman. He grabbed his arm, squeezing it with a grip befitting that of a war criminal rather than a little boy, and lifted him in the air. The kid whimpered, slamming his eyes shut in preparation. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, then. Furthermore, this was just the beginning.
“I can’t stand this bastard,” the man snarled, shaking the brat a little. He squirmed. “His cursed energy is disgusting; he’s dragging in all the cursed-spirits.”
The other one, who was knelt a ways away and searching for residuals, laughed. “What can you expect from Sukuna’s son?”
“You don’t seriously buy into that hearsay, do you?”
The sorcerer shrugged, standing up and brushing the grass of his skirt. “What other explanation for him is there?”
The other scowled. “They say Sukuna has four arms and four eyes. This is just some failed copy.”
“You think?”
He nodded, then dropped the kid onto the ground. He rolled and tried to scramble away, but the shaman trapped him under his foot. “I’m sick of dealing with this wretch. Do you remember before he arrived? Our village hardly saw a single curse in a year!”
“I hear you, brother,” the other said, approaching the kid. He was squirming around on the ground, diligently trying to free himself. “But, Sensei says he wants to see if the kid has a proper technique before we can execute him.”
He rolled his eyes. “So what? He can train him?” He lifted his foot for a second to kick the boy’s side, causing him to yelp and roll over. A bit of bile spilled from his mouth, and he curled into himself, shaking in pain. “All this whelp does is bring about more shit for us to deal with. I’m sick of it.”
Then, from inside his kariginu, the sorcerer retrieved a blade.
“You’re not serious.”
He leaned down, positioning the blade over the boy’s head. “Just stay quiet. I’ll make it look like a curse dismembered him before we got here.”
The man launched himself forward, lightly pulling on the other’s sleeve. Hissing, he exclaimed, “He’s a kid!”
The shaman glared at him. “What difference does that make? I thought you just said he was Sukuna’s son.”
The other hesitated, frowning, but… Eventually, he released the other man.
From below them, still trapped on the ground, the boy’s eyes went wide. He was frozen in fear, unable to even cry out or squirm as the sorcerer drew the blade to his throat.
That blade, however, never made it to pierce the kid’s throat. Before the sorcerer could, Sukuna had severed his forearm from his bicep, grabbing it and tossing it elsewhere before it could fall and land on the brat. He did the same with his other arm, then, just as he began to scream, Sukuna cut off the shaman’s head.
His body and assorted appendages fell to the ground with a thunk.
Sukuna turned his attention to the other sorcerer.
He was wracked with tremors, too shaky to even reach for a weapon or summon his cursed technique. Sukuna had unveiled his presence in full, and it was no doubt earth shattering for a sheltered sorcerer. If only Sukuna weren’t so angry, he might’ve gloated in it.
“Ryo– Ryomen Sukuna,” the man quivered out the name, his face contorted in horror. He sank to his knees out of fear alone. “Have you come for your son?”
Sukuna briefly turned his attention to the boy, who was still lying on the ground, eyes blown wide. Sukuna huffed. “I have no idea who this brat is. I just despise you sorcerers, that's all.”
With one flick of his finger, the man was bisected down the middle. His two halves collapsed forward, the ground soaking up the blood and remains. Silence echoed across the temple. Before Sukuna could do anything else, a loud keening sound cut through the air.
“Jiji!” The brat cried, and when Sukuna turned to look at him, he found the boy scrambling to meet a much older man.
The man’s hair had gone entirely gray, and he walked with a bamboo cane, but he met the boy in the middle, stooping to embrace him.
Jiji? Wasn’t that an affectionate title for a child’s grandparent?
“Calm yourself, Yuuji,” said the man, stroking the boy’s– apparently, Yuuji’s– hair and patting his back. “Breathe.”
Yuuji was inconsolable, and clung to the elder’s kosode– which matched the boy’s, meaning it was probably he who had clothed Yuuji– as he stood up. The man met Sukuna’s gaze, but it lacked any trace of fear.
“Lord Ryomen Sukuna,” he addressed him, bowing slightly, though the effort was strained both by age and the kid in his arms.
“Who are you?” Sukuna said, brows pinching together. “His grandfather?”
“Not by blood, though he does call me so.” He smiled slightly. “I am a retired monk. I settled here to spend my last few years around others after decades of seclusion, and it is good I did so, else Yuuji would have no one to care for him.”
Sukuna snorted, crossing his arms. “You certainly haven’t been doing a good job. He is filthy and covered in injuries.”
“An unavoidable consequence of living around others. He is not well-liked by the village people, on account for his appearance and the strange happenings that coincide with his presence, and is often subjected to the ridicule of adults and children alike. I try to prevent what I can, but I am an old man without any status. At the very least, I’ve been teaching him to speak and to write.”
For the briefest, barest moment, a memory trickled into the forefront of Sukuna’s mind. One where a similarly aged boy, though far more of an atrocity to the human species, suffered the same ridicule, who used his four arms to shield himself from stones, whose right side of his face was permanently marred and never grew back quite right, who—
But the thought was worthless, so it dissipated quickly enough.
Yuuji, who was beginning to calm down, twisted around to face Sukuna. He whined and reached for him, his upper body stretching out from the old man’s hold. “Baba!”
Baba?!
“I am not your ‘baba,’ brat.” Nonetheless, he reached over and took the boy into his arms. Yuuji nuzzled into the collar of Sukuna’s kimono, smudging his filth everywhere. Sukuna cringed, but did nothing, even as the kid hooked his scrawny little arms around his neck.
“Forgive him,” the man said. “He has no family. He arrived in the village shortly after I did, without any memory of a mother or father. There are rumors he is your child, and the boy has clung to them, despite my best efforts.”
Sukuna considered this. “The sorcerers were going to kill him. If I had not stepped in, you would’ve been met with an unrecognizable corpse.”
The old man grimaced. “I feared as much… It is no longer safe for him to stay here.”
“Are you going to take him elsewhere?”
“Gods no. I’m much too old to travel. However… There is another possibility.”
Sukuna cackled. “You mean to suggest I take this brat with me?”
“I cannot do it. Neither can I protect him from the village nor teach him to handle his sorcery,” the old man said. “And Yuuji seems to have taken to you.”
“He’s my baba, Jiji!” The boy in question piped up, craning his head just slightly to look at the other. With all the seriousness a three year old could possess in the world, he announced, “Same hair.”
“So he is.”
Rolling his eyes and ignoring them, Sukuna continued. “You know my name, you know who I am, you’ve seen what I can do—“ he gestured to the corpses, “— and still you dare to say such a thing?”
“There was a rumor some decades ago that the King of Curses was traveling with a child in tow,” he pointed out, no doubt referring to Uraume. “If that child still lives, I have no reason for concern.”
Sukuna huffed, smiling in bemusement. “Fine, then. I’ll take this rat off your hands. If nothing else, he’ll make a nice meal when he’s fattened up.” He flashed his fangs at Yuuji, who was reaching up to tug at his hair, and made a low hissing sound, as if he was ready to take a bite out of him here and now. The boy, seemingly having all but forgotten the events that had just transpired, shrieked in delight.
The old man hummed in satisfaction. “Be a good boy for Lord Sukuna, Yuuji. Do as he says and do not whine.”
“Jiji?” Yuuji asked, making an uncertain sound.
“You are staying with him, from now on. He will protect you and teach you to use your strength. You want to stay with your baba, don’t you?”
If it weren’t for the fact Sukuna did not wish to deal with a wailing child, he would have dismantled the old man for that line alone.
Still, it placated the brat. He squeezed Sukuna’s neck, with just an ounce more strength than should’ve been possible for a boy his age. “Yes!” shouted Yuuji. He turned to face Sukuna. “Staying with Baba.”
He’d have to fix that moniker later.
The words were assured, so Sukuna grunted and turned away, the kid still in his arms. He made no indication of turning back to the old man, but Yuuji climbed up his shoulder and shouted, “Bye bye, Jiji!”
Once the man was no longer in sight, Yuuji sank back into Sukuna’s arms, curling into himself. Night had fallen, and after such a near-death experience, the boy was no doubt exhausted.
Sleepily, he mumbled, “Baba is warm.”
The night air was rather cold, this time of year. For a waifish thing like Yuuji, it must have been freezing. Sukuna brought him closer, because he’d rather not deal with frostbite on a child. “My name is Sukuna, not Baba.”
“‘Kuna.” That might be worse.
“Are you truly not afraid of me?” He looked down at the boy. Children had never been fond of his appearance– they would run and hide if they were smart, scream and freeze up if they were not. But this one…
“Nuh-uh,” the boy said, between a yawn. “Saved me…”
He fell asleep.
Sukuna snorted, forcing himself to draw his eyes away from the tiny creature.
Foolish brat.
When he found Uraume sitting in the cave they had decided upon for shelter, tending to a fire, they immediately leapt to their feet to greet him.
“Master Sukuna! It had been so long, I was about to go search for you–”
Sukuna dismissed their worry with a wave of his hand. “All is well, Uraume.”
“So I see.” Their eyes trailed down to the sleeping boy in his arms. “Who might this be?”
Sukuna grinned. “His grandfather called him Yuuji.” At his name, the boy mumbled something in his sleep, and Sukuna hiked him higher up in his hold. “Sorcerers thought the brat was my son, and tried to kill him. I killed them, but they’re not worth eating, so don’t bother searching for their corpses.”
“He’s brimming with cursed energy.”
“So you noticed it too? I thought the same, that’s why I brought him back with me. That, and his uncanny resemblance to myself. He is no typical child, that is for certain. I’ll keep him until he gives me reason not to.”
Sukuna brought him closer to the fire, sitting down with Yuuji in his lap. The boy was splayed out, each of his limbs stretching in every direction. Sukuna attempted to fix a stray piece of his hair, only to be revolted by the amount of grime in it.
Did that old man ever bathe him?
“He’ll need a bath and to be fed, as well as a new set of clothes, but not now. Let him sleep. We’ll see if he fears my presence when he wakes up in the morning.”
Uraume sat in front of them. “He is young, but if he has any sense, he won’t be. He’ll be grateful.”
“As you were, when I first found you?” Sukuna smiled knowingly. Though, internally, he did hope taking in stray orphans under his wing did not become a trend. It wasn’t befitting of his title.
“Yes. I presume we’ll return to the estate, then?”
Sukuna hummed. “Indeed. We can begin our search for the blacksmith at a later time. For now, I’ve found something far more interesting to keep me entertained.”