Sukuna (2)

The pen scratched across the paper, steady and deliberate. Twenty-seven days. Twenty-seven slashes in the corner of a worn notebook. Each mark was a promise—freedom just out of reach. Sukuna set the pen down, his gaze lingering on the page. The prison had stripped many men of their dignity, but it had only sharpened his instincts. His name was enough to keep most at a distance, but fear bred enemies as much as it kept them at bay. This morning, they'd made their move. When he tipped back his coffee, two dead lizards floated in the bottom of the mug. Bold. A message from the Spanish gang, taunting him. Sukuna didn't curse, didn't throw the cup. Instead, he set it down carefully, his expression unreadable. "They want attention," he said, his voice low but carrying to the loyal few around him. He pushed the mug aside. "We'll give it to them." That afternoon, the cramped cell stank of blood. Sukuna stood back, arms crossed, watching as his men delivered retribution with brutal efficiency. Blades cut through flesh, the wet sounds of violence filling the space. Screams rose sharp, only to end with choking gurgles as the walls were painted red. Sukuna's gaze never wavered, cold and calculating as the Spanish gang was taken apart. The leader, a hulking man with a Virgin Mary tattoo faded on his chest, tried to crawl away, but the trail of blood he left betrayed him. One of Sukuna's men yanked him by the hair, and the blade struck deep, the sound almost muffled in the oppressive quiet that followed. Sukuna didn't flinch. He didn't participate. He only nodded when the work was done. The next morning, the gates swung open, the world outside blinding in its openness. Sukuna stepped out, drawing in the crisp air with a slow, measured breath. Freedom tasted strange—unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. Jin was waiting for him, his twin's face lined with relief and something close to joy. Sukuna spotted the child beside him almost immediately. Kaori's eyes, bright and wary, stared back at him. The kid didn't look like a stranger, but the distance in that gaze was sharper than Sukuna had anticipated. Judging. Hesitant. It was the kind of look he'd grown used to in this world, but not from family. Not from someone he'd once protected so fiercely. "So, you're You, huh?" Sukuna tilted his head, his tone dry, a hint of mockery curling the edges of his words. "What? No hug for your Unckuna?" His voice lacked warmth, the words sharp and biting, as if daring them to look away. And yet, beneath the surface, there was something else—a weight he wouldn't name, buried deep, far from reach.