IGNITE | Sukuna

Chapter 29: The King of Curses

Hate had come easily. Like breath, like blood. Like fire.

From the moment Satsuki Ryomen had learned to speak, his words had been laced with his father’s contempt, the whispers of the court, and the warnings of the priests. Sukuna is your enemy. A disgrace. A beast wearing the face of a man. A name that should have never been spoken, a shadow that should have never been cast.

But Satsuki had needed no lessons in loathing. It was instinctual, as if he had been carved from the very essence of hate itself. Sukuna’s easy smirk, the glint in his eyes that held nothing but amusement, the smooth, lazy way his taunts slithered between words—Satsuki despised it all.

No one could break Sukuna. No exile, no punishment, no betrayal. Not even when their father had cast him into the wilderness, into the mouths of beasts and the hands of fate. The son that should have been forgotten had returned stronger, untouched by the cruelty of men. Unshackled. A walking omen of destruction.

And now, the war had reached its climax. The Gojo Clan’s head still stood, and the Ryomen name would mean nothing if they did not end it. They needed a final strike, a finishing blow.

They needed Sukuna.

Satsuki clenched his fists as he rode through the dirt roads, fury simmering under his skin. The fire technique that should have been his birthright coiled within him like a serpent, hissing with resentment. Every time he used it, he could feel it whispering, mocking him. Not yours. Never yours. If he had mastered it, they wouldn't have needed Sukuna to intervene.

Noritoshi Kamo, his most trusted friend, rode at his side, ever composed, ever loyal.

"Looks like this is it," Noritoshi murmured as they approached a village.

This was where she resided. The priestess. The woman who could see the future. If there was one thing Satsuki despised more than his brother, it was uncertainty. He did not want fate to be written by the whims of the gods. He wanted it carved by his own hands, dripping in the blood of all who stood in his way.

They arrived at the hut. A crowd gathered before it, the desperate and the damned, those who sought answers for their insignificant lives.

"Move," Noritoshi commanded, "Can’t you see the Crown Prince is here?"

A hush fell over the gathering. Fear spread through them like sickness. They parted, though not without muttered curses beneath their breath.

Satsuki wrinkled his nose. The stench of the common folk was unbearable.

The hut was worse. Bones, dried herbs, remnants of past rituals littered the space, and at its center sat the old priestess, her eyes closed, as if waiting.

"So, you're the one who claims to see the future?" Satsuki spoke, voice light, playful, but his fingers brushed against the dagger at his side.

The priestess opened her eyes. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

"What an honor," she whispered, voice creaking like aged wood. "Has His Highness come to seek his destiny?"

He tilted his head. "Of course. But first, a test. I want to know your future."

He drew the dagger from its sheath, its sharp edge catching the flickering candlelight.

A long silence followed.

Then, she smiled wider. "You wound me, my prince. Doubting me, as if I do not already know."

Satsuki took a step forward, the dagger gleaming in his grip.

The priestess let out a breath, eyes steady, unblinking. "I will die by your hands today. That is my fate."

His lips curled in delight. He clapped his hands together, laughter spilling from his throat. "Very good! Now, before you die—tell me mine."