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A stranger stood before him. Hair greying, wearing a white sweater and brown pants. Shock and confusion painted his face, and a hint of heartache. Disappointment was quick to follow. Sukuna narrowed his eyes. Where had he seen this man before?
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The first thing that caught his attention was the brightness that warmed his face. He felt a solid, albeit hard and uncomfortable, surface beneath him. The next thing he was aware of was the sweet and vividly earthly scent that wafted to his nostrils. Something landed right upon his nose.
Sukuna jolted awake, his eyes springing open. The bright sunlight made it hard for him to see, while a gentle wind played with his hair. He flicked away the offending leaf that had landed on his nose. Narrowing his eyes, he gazed down at his body, which now felt familiar and present, marked by his distinct tattoos. He wore his white kimono, he frowned.
He died? His last moments lingered in his mind. Looking up at a face ridden with scars, tinged with a slight sadness and then, seeing nothing but complete darkness. There was a unworldly, loudly resonating voice and- Ah.
The being, or whatever it may have been, claimed that he had been offered a chance. Disbelief and shock coursed through his veins. He must have been brought back to life. He could only scoff.
But why.
His cursed energy thrummed with apprehension. He still possessed it. That was good. But the fact that something had the power to bring him from the dead unsettled him deeply. He had received a physical form of his own as well. With all things considered, those were tasks impossible for any being, curse, or sorcerer to achieve. None wielded such overwhelming power except...
'Deities'
His growing unease intensified. He had contemplated their existence a few times, but only found rumours and age old myths. Some of them mentioned about uncanny resurrections. But he found no real proof, so he had eventually disregarded his interest. But now... there was no other explanation for this bizarre spectacle. His eyes twitched. He'll ponder about that later, he needed to figure out his location.
He propped himself up on the grass and scanned the area after blinking a few times to clear his vision. Few trees in the distance.There was a bridge overhead by a small stream of water. Something red moved in it. He looked closer.
Lobsters. He paused in his ministrations as recognition hit him.
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"A morning Glory!"
"It's a hydrangea, you moron."
"Yeah, yeah, I know careless mistake."
It was the same park the brat had brought him to during their little excursion in his newly formed domain. An attempt in vain to get him to value the 'simple things in life'. It was a complete waste of his time and curiosity. He felt only annoyance after all that near-endless blabbering he had been put through. He dispelled that train of thought and focused on the current task.
The park was more greener than he remembered and there were less trees. Vehicles moved about on the bridge above.
If this world was real and not the afterlife, then sorcerers and curses should have likely picked up on his presence by now. He must've been lying here for quite sometime. Although no one has come looking for his cursed energy. Yet.
He pushed himself off the ground.
"...Jin?"
He didn't jump but it was a near thing.
"Is that you?", an old, rough voice asked.
Swiftly fixing his posture, he turned around. An old man stood before him. Hair greying with hints of pale pink, wearing a white sweater and brown pants. Shock and confusion painted his face, and a hint of heartache. Sukuna narrowed his eyes. Where had he seen this man before?
"Oh... you're not him" he said after examining his appearance. Disappointment laced his tone. The only this preventing Sukuna from slicing him to bits was his own curiosity regarding the man. Eyes narrowing further, Sukuna opened his mouth with question on his tongue-
"Papa?" a squeaky, hesitant voice came from below.
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He snapped his head down.
Standing behind the old man's legs, was a small child with mop of pink hair, peering up at him with his big bright eyes, shining with curiosity.
His eyes opened a fraction wider. A question died on his tongue. He almost sliced at him reflexively.
He looked no more than three, wearing a tiny hoodie and trousers that went up to his knees. Bright red sneakers. And wearing the same dreadful hair cut.
Itadori Yuuji.
The object of all his problems. The one who was responsible for his reincarnation. The one who dealt his final blow. The one who tried to pity him, who tried to threaten him into being a prisoner. The one who was willing to sacrifice their peace of minds to make them both suffer for his stupid ideals. His idiotic vessel.
Who was standing before him as a toddler. And addressed Sukuna as his father.
He let out a breath of incredulity. The brat was staring at him expectantly. He stared back. This would have went on for a long amount of time had the old man, his grandfather he garnered, had decided not to interrupt.
He lifted his grandson up in his arms and spoke to him with a sad smile, "No Yuuji, he's not your father, he's just looks very similar to him".
Then to him, with an apologetic expression albeit suspicion reflecting in his eyes, "Sorry for the confusion, you just look strikingly like my son, Jin. You are almost identical to him, but you know", He gestured around his face with his unoccupied hand, "without the tattoos and a different hairdo."
He then frowned disapprovingly. "Are you from around here? I don't think I have seen you before."
Sukuna was pulled out of his musings. He glanced at the brat's wilting face and then to the man holding him. His scowl deepened. Here he was, with the dawning realisation that he was thrown years back into the past. And this old wretch, was questioning him like he stole his dear son's body. His son who probably ran off with his darling wife Kenjaku. Or was most likely dead.
And the brat had returned to staring at him with these sad and hopeful eyes, as if still hoping that he were his father. He clenched his teeth so hard it threatened to break.
His patience snapped like a twig.
If the the brat wanted to see his father so desperately, then he would do him a favour and gladly send him to him. The old man can accompany him too, afterall he was the one who disturbed him. Maybe he should kill him first, make the brat witness as his beloved grandfather got torn to shreds by his hands. All because of him. Force his eyes open through the tears that streamed out as he cried.
He positioned his finger to make the first slice at the old man's head who watched it with a puzzled look. The brat's eyes followed his finger. Perfect. And abruptly yanked his hand through the air in a clean curve.
He smiled.
The old wretch's head exploded.
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