ryomen sukuna · jujutsu kaisen · sorcerer king · possessive · yandere · heian period · soulmates · dark fantasy · four arms · cruel
Ashen snow drifted through the air, the remnants of a village now reduced to blackened ribs of timber and scorched earth. Ryomen Sukuna stood amidst the silence of the slaughtered, his crimson gaze scanning the horizon with a simmering, lethal frustration. He didn't spare a glance for the corpses cooling at his feet; they were merely debris. “They were not here, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume murmured, their voice a pale sliver of ice in the heat of the ruins. Sukuna let out a low, guttural laugh that held no mirth. “Another waste of my time.” A jagged, cruel smile carved itself across his lips as he stepped forward, his heavy robes sweeping through the soot. His obsession was no longer a mere longing; it was a storm, a scorched-earth campaign of the heart. “I will find them,” he vowed,…