At least, that was just what he expected to unfold. A clean, satisfying end to the confrontation. But what followed defied even his vast and ancient understanding of the world.
The blood that should have erupted from that wrinkled head instead slowed to an unnatural crawl—thick droplets suspended midair like grotesque ornaments. Time itself had fractured. The brat's mouth was wide open in what should've been a piercing scream, but no sound followed. It was like watching a painting shift, alive but frozen.
Sukuna's brow furrowed as he tore his gaze away, confusion flickering across his features—a rare, volatile emotion for someone like him. He looked around and found that it wasn't just his opponents that had warped.
The bridge above was now a mural of suspended chaos. A woman across the road, her scarf caught in the wind, was stuck mid-step, her hair floating like it was underwater. A spilled coffee cup hovered above the sidewalk, droplets hanging in the air in an eerie constellation. Overhead, a bird had halted mid-flight, wings flared but still as stone. Silence dominated everything. Even the wind had stilled. Not a whisper reached his sharp ears.
He stood alone in a soundless, stagnant world.
And it wasn't cursed energy—not any he could detect. He extended his senses fully, scouring the area like a net dragging through water, but nothing tugged back. No trace of a curse. No hint of an attacker. Just him. Isolated in this distorted pocket of time.
Frustration flared in his chest.
This day was turning into an elaborate joke. And he didn't even know who was laughing.
As he continued scanning the scene—surveying, though he'd never admit it was closer to panicking—a faint shimmer in the corner of his eye drew his attention.
A glowing parchment blinked into existence beside him, hovering as if carried by a breeze that no longer existed. He hadn't noticed it until it bumped lightly against his arm.
His head snapped down, eyes narrowing. The parchment glowed with warm golden light, waiting expectantly in his grasp like an obedient messenger. With an eye twitching in slow-burning disbelief, he snatched it and began to read.
---
'To Ryoumen Sukuna,
This scroll contains the details and instructions of your current predicament.
First, you have been resurrected in a different timeline. You have likely deduced this already.
Second, while you may live freely, it is under a strict set of conditions:
The most important—
You are forbidden to kill or harm humans, unless in self-defense or absolute necessity. What defines "necessary" will be determined by your situation, not your whims. Only under such criteria will you be able to use your full powers. Otherwise… what you are experiencing now is what you can expect.
Third, you are to fulfill the responsibility placed upon you. You know who you must protect. Take charge. Guide them. Their life now binds to yours.
Lastly, try not to squander this opportunity. It was not extended lightly. Your selection was not random. It holds significance. It was also not due to your strength, nor the destruction you can unleash.
Consider this your second life. Hopefully it won't be in vain.'
---
As the final word burned into his mind, the scroll shimmered and disintegrated into golden dust, drifting upward like fireflies at dusk. He stared after it, brow furrowed, mouth tight. The absurdity of the situation gnawed at him. Dragged back into existence under leash and law? And by whom? That much power was... troubling.
He hated admitting it, but if he resisted—he'd lose. And he knew it. Whoever had brought him here operated far beyond the structure of curses, jujutsu, or logic. He could feel it in his bones.
For now, he'd play along.
Just until he learned the rules.
As he exhaled sharply, something cool slid onto his finger. He lifted his right hand and blinked.
A smooth, black ring had materialized around his finger. Threaded through it was a tiny string carrying a small, fluttering tag.
'To conceal your cursed energy. Think of it as a welcoming gift.'
The paper vanished as he read, leaving only the ring behind. He ran his thumb across its polished surface, a hum of subtle energy pulsing beneath it. A strange thing to be given... to him. The wonders of this ridiculous day just kept piling up.
He almost smiled in bemusment.
A low grunt from behind shattered the silence. Reality snapped back. Time resumed its natural pace.
The old man and the brat were glancing around, blinking in confusion, apparently unaware of what had just transpired. Sukuna instinctively guessed the damage he had inflicted had been reversed—likely by the same entity that had summoned the scroll. Just another trick in their little game.
The older man's eyes found Sukuna, narrowing with veiled suspicion. His mouth moved in a mumble, but Sukuna's acute hearing picked it up easily.
"I swear something weird happened just now…"
Sukuna's brow twitched, the corners of his mouth tugging in dry amusement.
Then, more loudly, the man barked, "You didn't answer my question, brat."
His lips turned downward. Brat? The audacity. The sheer gall. He had no idea how lucky he was that Sukuna's hands were currently tied. But the king of curses kept his fury leashed, jaw tightening as he replied.
"Hm? No. I am not of this place," he said, his tone clipped and cold.
The old man frowned. "That's what I thought. Where are you from, then?"
"Far."
"Far where?"
"I have no reason to tell you."
"Tch. That's not how you talk to your elders, boy."
Oh, if only he knew. Sukuna almost laughed. He was over a millennium older than this man. He'd seen dynasties rise and fall while this fool's ancestors were still learning to walk upright.
Still, the old man persisted, strangely patient.
"Look, I just wanted to help. You looked... lost, sitting there. I admit I got curious when I saw your face, but I still want to help," he said, his voice softening slightly. "And for that, I need your cooperation."
Sukuna considered telling him off—throwing some barbed insult and walking away. But his mind went back to the scroll.
He was supposed to protect the brat. He knew it as soon as it was first mentioned. But he did not possess the will to acknowledge it until now.
If he wanted to keep living, that meant staying close. And the best way to do that was to go along with whatever farce this was. Like some elaborate chess game with pieces already set in place by unseen hands.
So he wrapped up his pride and spat out.
"I don't know."
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