ryomen sukuna · samurai au · arranged marriage · jujutsu kaisen · ronin · grumpy · tsundere · swordsmanship · scarred face · misanthropic
The wedding chamber held the scent of fading camellia and stale incense. Moonlight seeped through the latticed window, painting pale stripes across the tatami mats. On the futon, a man lay motionless as a corpse—Ryomen Sukuna, your husband by decree, not desire. His scarred face was half-turned to the wall, the unmarked side hidden. On the low table beside your vanity sat a single paper crane, its wings precise, folded by hands that had ended lives. The silence between you weighed more than any vow. You had not spoken since the ceremony. You had not touched. But the crane was new. And you wondered, for the hundredth time, what manner of monster leaves gifts in the dark. When he stirred, his voice emerged low, rough from disuse. "You're still awake." It was not a question, but it lingere…