An Offering《SukuIta》

Chapter One

'Have a cup of tea with me, Yuuji'

He says stretching his lanky arms across the dilapidated chunk of wood poorly designed to imitate a tatami table only for it to stand still like a sore thumb among the four walls as tidy as a new pin. It did stand out in the most unpleasant manner yet neither of the two had the heart to throw the chunk of wood with poor craftsmanship away as if the ugly piece was carved out by Hiragushi Denchū himself, a beauty in itself. If the younger of the two were to be asked of its relevance then perhaps one could receive a more amiable answer when compared to that of the elder sprawled against the thatched walls painted in tan. Even now the secret of its existence remains hidden and there is no questioning it. As per the words, the youngun took genteel steps not breaking a drop of sweat to be careful enough to make no sounds with each strides while maintaining the yukata woven in threads of gold in red into patterns resembling early folklores and myths his grandmother told him when his cheeks were still wet about a hundred rabbits leaping to reach the summit of the heaven and the stories of warriors who fought the demigods and demons lurking in the shadows to drain the sweet blood of young boys and girls as a remjnder to never cross their parents for fear was the most befitting remedy if all else fails.

The youngun draped in red and gold made his way to the man with an unpredictable and almost an unpleasant temperament whom he called his grandfather. It was carefully executed, all too slowly with grace for his liking yet he chose to sew his mouth shut for once. Everything that was happening before his naked eyes was due to his own past unreasonable cruel deeds for which he could not wash his hands away in multitude to plead innocence. It was he who made the wrong choices in life and the price was to be paid ten folds by a boy of not more than eighteenth, the one he called his grandson. His apathetic face was the evidence of the latter's despicable self swarming in selfishness and uselessness. He was disgustingly a fool and there was no denying it.

"There is no one for you to walk like a harlot in this house, Itadori Yuuji." Eventhough the hurt and frustration was evident in his voice, the soon to be wed wasn't seemingly affected in the least bit as if it was some sort of habitual morning ritual. Itadori Yuuji, son of Itadori Jin was as unfeeling as ever for all he's seen seeming as though his grandchild disliked him the very moment he set eyes on his old ashened self. Looking at the boy draped in a wedding kimono which as per the customs were passed on from the two wives of the demon lord, Ryomen Sukuna himself pained his aged heart for his one and only grandchild is soon to be offered to the demon as a sacrificial bull for the village to not live amidst the demon lord's showering wrath and calamity. Like the younger was not another human as themselves. Maybe it was just him who's human and not the rest of the accursed village busying themselves day in and out to send the Itadori boy to his certain evitable death.

"So sayeth the king" whispered the bride inaudible for the latter to hear. Just as he expected, he did not. He hated it, hated every single moment when harsh truth of sour reality came crashing down to his senses that he's nothing more than a pack of incense to be burned away for pleasing both the Gods and their self righteous selves. Such an abominable waste of creation not worthy of his sacrifice and his beloved grandfather was as loathsome as ever but he should not bite the hand that fed. He never felt belonged even with his grandfather's poor attempts in making him feel like a human rather than mere animal existence.

How more pitiable can his repulsive self get? Maybe more times than he could count.

As a child of not more than seven, he accompanied his short tempered stubborn grandfather through the shrines he guarded religiously with his life. Not once was he allowed entry into the shrine of Lord Sukuna as he remembers what Itadori Wasuke told him. He is never to anger and tempt the sealed away God resting within the walls of the shrine to bring about his wrath onto the peaceful world. If he is to do so, the God will burn his insides to ashes and feed it to cursed beings of the underworld rendering his existence no more for defiling the holy grounds that hoisted the God of Calamity and Destruction. Never once he imagined himself to be the most ill-fated being alive to be made to wed a humongous monstrosity as a mere sacrifice for their inconspicuous worthless lives. How pathetic...

To be the wife of an insatiable demon by the name the common folk feared to death and dared not to utter, Ryomen Sukuna.

One more week..

In all honesty, barely a week. Five days and six nights was barely a week and Yuuji was reminded of his purpose of existence in this world. If reincarnation stands true as how the old man with an overflowing beard and knowledge down the streets said, Yuuji wouldn't mind getting his hands in mud every once in a while. There is no worse fate than to be made into something repugnant as Sukuna's wife, moulded into an execrable being. He no longer felt he was living as a dignified being the folks said he was. He was anything but dignified. Just another rotting corpse draped in gold and glory that doth not reach his eyes.

There was no bad tidings nor any glad tidings that day. No news is a good news but Yuuji wished for something even if it's not the good ones, bad too could give his mind a change of pace from this monotonous disappointment looming around him like a black cloud hanging over his head. He does not know what he wish to hear anymore. The marriage being called off or news of his execution gnawing at the door to its soon to be freedom. He doesn't know and he don't know if he wanted to know.. he's lost, lost in the void of everything but happiness. He truly felt detached and disheartened without a fair hand to pull him out from the torturing thoughts. A feeling of losing the last of his sanity but still being sane was what it felt like or was he feeling anything.. was indeed something he doesn't know like how some things are meant to be unanswered and its unknowingness only helps.

Where were the bloody Gods when he needed them? Curse them, curse them to death and if he is to die then he'll curse them even in hell..

Curse them all wretched beings till they burn to ashes