IGNITE | Sukuna

Chapter 23: Betrayal

The flames danced hungrily, devouring the fragile handkerchief as if mocking the tender memories it carried. Sukuna’s fingers lingered near the blaze, the heat biting into his skin, yet he did not pull away. He deserved this pain, this searing reminder of her touch—gentle, fleeting, and now gone. He stared into the fire, his crimson eyes reflecting the chaos of the burning fabric, as if hoping it could consume the ghost of her hands wiping his blood away. Or so he thought.

From the depths of his robes, he retrieved the brittle remains of a flower crown, its petals lifeless, their vibrancy long stolen by time. He turned it over in his hands, tracing the fragile stems. How he wished his agony, too, could dry up, wither, and crumble like these flowers. With a sharp inhale, he cast it into the fire, watching it twist and blacken.

The sigh that escaped his lips felt heavier than the air around him. He tilted his head back, his gaze tracing the heavens above. The wretched snow had finally ceased its descent, leaving the night silent. No stars to guide him—only emptiness. The kingdom would not wait for him to wallow. There were battles to wage, positions to seize, lives to take. A war demanded his strength, not his sorrow.

Turning from the fire, he walked toward the great hall, his boots echoing against the cold stone. He should have never let her in. He should have never allowed her gentle defiance to shatter the fortress of his solitude. She was never meant to be more than a weapon, never meant to slip past his walls and crown herself queen of his unbeating heart. He should not have fallen in love.

His steps faltered. A bitter chuckle escaped him, hollow and sharp. Love. That cursed word. Was this what it was? No, it couldn’t be. He was Sukuna Ryomen, the disgraced one.

Yet, as he stood there in the dark, the truth crept up on him. He sighed, his shoulders sinking under the weight of his denial.

Who was he lying to? The fire crackled behind him. Who was he denying?

Love was a cruel paradox, as sharp as his cleave and twice as treacherous. He loathed its very existence now. It was an unworthy sentiment, foreign to a creature of his nature. With a frustrated sigh, he raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his crimson eyes falling shut to block out the unbearable weight of her absence.

"Look what you’ve made me become, Princess," he whispered into the void.

A faint crack disturbed the silence—a branch snapping beneath cautious feet. His gaze shot toward the sound, his body tensing as he approached the stables. Two small figures stood near the exit, their forms illuminated by the pale light of the moon.

Kashimo and Angel.

They were waiting. Again. It had been two days since she had gone, and the children clung to the hope of her return, their eyes always fixed on the horizon.

"Don’t you have other business to attend to?" Sukuna barked.

The children flinched. Angel retreated behind Kashimo, her wide, tearful eyes peeking out from behind her protector. Kashimo, however, stood his ground, his jaw tight with defiance.

"Why did you let her go?" Kashimo spat, his voice trembling with fury. He lunged forward, his small foot colliding with Sukuna’s leg in a futile act of rebellion.

Sukuna’s hand shot out, gripping the boy by the collar and hoisting him into the air. Kashimo flailed, his fists striking Sukuna’s chest with the desperation of a child who knew he was powerless.

"Coward! Coward!" Kashimo screamed, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face.

Angel stood frozen, her tiny frame trembling as she watched the confrontation unfold. Too frightened to intervene.