Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

031. Opposites Attract

A thousand years ago...

Sukuna was born a complete disappointment. His mother had been eagerly hoping for a beautiful son like all the others, a blessing to humanity, which was just beginning to develop as such. A baby with small eyes, gentle hands, and a soft body was all she wanted. Her pregnancy had been completely normal, like the others in the tribe, so it was expected that this child would be normal as well. It was all she wanted: a healthy, normal child to take care of her once she grew old. The shock of seeing a horrible being with four arms, four eyes, and two little snouts emerge from her was tremendous. His mother screamed, not from the pain of childbirth, but from the terror of having conceived something straight out of hell itself.

"That thing is a demon." "How horrible it is." "It's a shame the most beautiful woman had the ugliest child," the others in the tribe murmured as they looked with disdain at the child who always wandered off alone because his own mother didn't want to be seen with him. Sukuna turned out to be a boy like any other. He had two legs that allowed him to run through the forest, a hungry stomach from not being fed by his mother, and a brain so intelligent that he didn't need others to survive. He only had the misfortune of having unwittingly eaten his twin brother in his mother's womb, manifesting itself in a horrifying genetic mutation that not even God could explain.

Sukuna tended to be quiet. Not because he wanted to, but because no one usually spoke to him. That was the reason why he had a rather limited vocabulary compared to other boys his age, one more thing to add to his list of oddities. His silence, rather than helping him, ended up harming him even more. His silence only made it easier for others to enjoy throwing rocks at him as if it were a sport, since he just ran away, unable to stop them with words. Everything got worse when he discovered his cursed technique.

Sukuna had returned from playing in the forest, the only place where no one bothered him, when a shower of rocks caught him off guard. He covered his head with his four arms and the basket full of flowers he had collected to protect himself as he fled. Some boys, much older than him, chased him while throwing rocks to see who could hit him in the head. "Hit the monster" was the name of the game. Usually, Sukuna knew they got bored after they ran out, but this time he had a small bag in which they collected more rocks than usual.

Sukuna hated those games; he didn't understand how something that hurt him could be fun for them. He didn't understand why the world was so cruel. His mind was too small to understand how this world full of injustice works; he was barely 5 years old.

A rock hit him in one of his eyes, causing Sukuna to let out a squeal of pain.

"Good shot!" The boys cheered as the little monster began to cry.

Sukuna dropped the basket, and the flowers he'd plucked with childish selfishness scattered across the ground like dying butterflies. Tears streamed down his face, burning his skin with shame and helplessness. The tribesmen circled him like vultures, their gazes heavy with mockery, their cruel laughter piercing his chest like daggers. Laughter. Pain. Dead flowers. The world around him became a whirlwind of shadows and echoes. Sukuna squeezed his eyes shut, his body curling in on itself, fragile like an armadillo seeking refuge in its own flesh.

He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to hear their voices, feel their gazes, breathe the same air as them. Something inside him twisted, dark and throbbing, and a burning desire was born: to silence them. To make them disappear. To erase their existence from the face of the earth.

"No!" Sukuna roared from the depths of his small lungs as he reached out toward them in a valiant attempt to stop them.

A cold scream cut the wind. Sukuna opened his eyes to find not only the bodies of the boys ripped in half, but of everyone watching. A commune united by a common evil was reduced to a sea of ​​blood and a symphony of final breaths. Most were still alive, watching their lives flash before them as their eyes ceased to shine. The terrified cry came from his own mother, who had arrived after hearing the mocking laughter. It didn't take long for her to flee the scene; she didn't want to be next. That was the last time he saw her alive.