The line between sanity and insanity. The thread that holds reality and illusion. The difference between truth and lie.
She doesn’t remember anymore.
Every definition of justice in her being is unraveling, twisting into something grotesque. Her eyes flutter open—barely.
Chained.
In the prison.
Or is she back on the battlefield, knee-deep in carnage?
She doesn’t comprehend. Is it day or night? A single day or a hundred years? Her vision swims, landing on her bound hands—blood-stricken, ghostly pale. The skin beneath the iron cuffs is marred with bruises, torn at the seams, more curse than human. She flinches at the pain—not just the pain of flesh, but the agony of a soul devoured.
Because she sold her soul to a curse.
A curse she created.
A curse she is becoming.
"You belonged in the Prison Realm from the start."
The voice makes her breath hitch. Slowly, she raises her head—so slowly it feels like her bones will snap from the effort.
Her dead mother stares back at her.
She stands there, frozen in the moment of her death, the axe still buried in her chest. Blood drips in slow, cruel intervals, a reminder of the curse she uttered with her dying breath. The curse that condemned Subuhi to an eternity of grief.
Her stomach churns. She swallows the bile rising in her throat. Maybe she deserves this. This gut-wrenching, heart-shattering agony. This existence shackled in chains, haunted by ghosts. Hands stained in the blood of her comrades, their faces reduced to echoes in the dark.
Prison Realm.
That’s right.
Someone—anyone—Kenjaku.
She left it with him. If he could find a way to lock her inside, then maybe—maybe—this could all end. Maybe she could atone.
"They’re already dead. The ones you’re trying to save."
The voice of the Shinigami slithers through her mind like a noose tightening around her throat.
"You killed them."
The images flood her all at once—her friends, slaughtered. Their bodies violated, torn apart by her own hands. She barely has time to gasp before her stomach heaves, and she vomits onto the cold stone floor.
"Infuriating. You’re really turning into a creature."
The disgust in the voice is unmistakable.
Subuhi looks up, dazed, battle-worn.
Satsuki.
He stands before her, a drink in his hand, a smirk on his lips. His presence feels like a violation of the air itself.
The chains tighten as she moves, but she doesn’t care—she lunges.
He laughs. "Oh? Did I offend the wildling? How rude."
His footsteps are slow, deliberate. Closer. Closer. His eyes rake over her—her ruined form, the fractures in her soul, the creeping corruption of her curse.
"I bet Sukuna would fancy you like this," he muses. "He’s on his way here, you know."
Subuhi stills. Her eyes—hollow, sunken—clear just a little. The last flicker of violet glows in their depths as she truly looks at him.
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IGNITE | Sukuna
Fanfiction❝Ignite, my Disgraced One, ignite❞ Creation and destruction-two forces destined to clash. Their very nature opposes the other, yet neither can survive alone. When Subuhi, the embodiment of creation, crosses paths with Sukuna, the harbinger of destru...
