The curse snarled and charged at you, its grotesque form rippling with malevolent energy. You simply sidestepped it—your movements fluid, almost lazy—and slammed your hand, crackling with white-hot divine energy, into its side. The air around your palm shimmered with heat.

It roared in pain, the sound echoing through the twisted corridors as you cut off its face with a single, precise motion. Blood—or whatever substitute these things had—sprayed across the ground. Then, you turned to the other curses, your expression calm, almost bored. You lifted your wings from beyond your clothes, the ethereal appendages unfolding with a sound like wind chimes, making the curses step back, shrieking in fear. They knew what you were. What you represented.

You sent arrow after arrow of godly energy at them, each one finding its mark with devastating accuracy. Soon, they were all dead at your feet, dissolving into nothingness.

You saw the black wall above you open, and one of Megumi's shikigami swooped down, scooped you up in its talons, and shrieked as it soared upward toward the hole again.

Out of the oppressive realm, you slumped on the floor, exhausted. Megumi suddenly had you in his arms, holding you tighter than necessary.

"You're okay," he breathed, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god—thank you—you're okay."

You blinked, unsure where to put your hands. Your eyes darted around, landing on Nobara, but that's it.

"Where's Itadori?" you asked, and Megumi hesitated before letting you go, wiping his eyes quickly, as if embarrassed you'd seen.

She's safe. That's all that matters, he thought, but the guilt gnawed at him.

"I don't know. We were focused on getting you out, so he decided to stay behind and face the special-grade curse alone," he said, averting his eyes as he felt your anger and fear rise like a tidal wave.

"You did what?" you snarled lowly, your divine energy flickering around you like static. Even Nobara, as brave and brash as she was, averted her eyes from your gaze.

"We had no choice, Y/N," Megumi said quietly, though even he didn't believe his own words.

"There's always a choice to save others," you said coldly, standing up and leaning against Megumi's own curse. Nue chirped and nibbled the top of your head affectionately, sensing your distress.

You patted the owl curse and told the two that you would go back in.

"No way I'm letting her go back alone," Nobara muttered under her breath, but she knew she couldn't stop you.

You were about to enter the detention center when Megumi's hands found your arm, his grip desperate.

"Don't," he pleaded, his eyes wide, showing sorrow, regret, and fear. Fear of losing you. "Please, don't go back in there."

I can't lose her. Not her. Not after everything.

"He told us to stay out. He's going to release Sukuna," Megumi added, his voice strained.

You raised your brow, unimpressed. "And I'm supposed to be scared of someone like that?"

"Don't you know he's the King of Curses?" said Nobara, and you hummed, a small smile playing at your lips.

"What is a king to a god?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Megumi's breath caught. Nobara's eyes widened.

You then ripped your arm away and tied your shirt, preparing yourself.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, stepping into the detention center, your wings beginning to unfurl once more.

You left the two feeling stunned and helpless, watching you disappear into the darkness.

"She's incredible," Megumi whispered, almost to himself.

And I'd follow her into hell if she asked me to.

The inside of the cursed domain was completely destroyed—rubble and debris scattered across flooded ground, the remnants of what had been a fierce battle. The air was thick with residual cursed energy, oppressive and suffocating.

Sukuna stood in knee-deep water, his muscular frame silhouetted against the pale moonlight streaming through the shattered ceiling. He gazed upward, crimson eyes reflecting the moon's glow with an almost bored expression.

"Come out, brat," he called lazily into the void of his own consciousness, waiting for Itadori's inevitable protest.

Silence.

Interesting, he thought, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. The vessel's finally learned to shut up.

Then—a shift in the air. A presence. Divine and overwhelming.

His head whipped around with predatory speed, and his hand shot out to grab the intruder by the throat. But his fingers stopped mere inches away, trembling.

His eyes widened fractionally.

"Oh," he said, his voice dropping an octave, suddenly laced with something between curiosity and reverence. "It's you."

You stood there in the water, completely unbothered by his attempted attack, your divine aura radiating outward like ripples across the surface. You cocked your head, studying him with an almost clinical interest, your eyes tracing the black markings across his face and body.

He shivered under your gaze—actually shivered—a sensation he hadn't felt in a thousand years.

What is this feeling? This... pressure?

"So, you're Sukuna," you muttered, your voice carrying an ethereal quality that made the water around you still.

"Huh?" He blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by your casual tone.

"You look startlingly like Itadori," you observed, crossing your arms beneath your chest. Your wings folded slightly behind you, droplets of water sliding off the divine feathers.

An irk mark appeared on Sukuna's forehead, his jaw clenching. "That's because he's my vessel, you stupid dame."

How dare she compare me to that brat—

But then you laughed—a sound so pure and melodious it seemed to cleanse the corrupted air itself. Sukuna's irritation faltered, his expression shifting to something almost... captivated.

That laugh...

"Oh, I see," you said, shaking your head with amusement dancing in your eyes. Your smile was radiant, divine, and utterly disarming.

Sukuna found himself staring, his usual bloodlust replaced by an unfamiliar hunger—the desire to possess something far more valuable than mere power.

I want—no, I need—

"Well then," you said, stepping forward through the water with grace that made it seem as though you were walking on air. You offered your hand to him, palm up, fingers elegant and glowing faintly with celestial energy.

Sukuna stared at your hand, then at your face. His heart—if he could even call it that—thundered in his chest.

A god is offering me her hand. Me.

"I'm Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you, King of Curses," you said, your smile never wavering, your eyes holding secrets of eternity itself.

For the first time in his existence, Ryomen Sukuna didn't know what to say.

You yawned—a delicate, almost ethereal sound—as you watched Gojo and Nanami talking in the courtyard. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of Jujutsu High, and the residual cursed energy from earlier missions still lingered in the air like static electricity. It had been an hour since you had returned, your divine presence still causing the cursed energy around you to fluctuate and dissipate involuntarily. You didn't know it, but it was the last time you would see Yuji.

Gojo's Six Eyes tracked your every micro-expression even as he spoke with Nanami, his attention perpetually divided between the conversation and you. She's bored. That little furrow between her brows... even that's adorable.

He turned fully toward you, his blindfold doing nothing to hide the intensity of his focus. "Are you bored, L/N?" he asked, his voice carrying that playful lilt he reserved especially for you.

You nodded, suppressing another yawn. "Yeah, nothing's more boring than listening to two adults talk about a friend I haven't seen in two days," you muttered, stretching your arms above your head. The movement caused your uniform to shift, and both men's eyes followed the motion with an almost reverent attention. Divine energy rippled across your skin like sunlight on water. "Well, I guess I'll go hang out with the third-years. They're better at this anyway."

"Wait, wait!" Gojo shouted, his hand shooting out to grab your shoulder with surprising urgency. His fingers tingled where they made contact with you, your divine essence sending pleasant shivers through his cursed energy. "We want you to meet someone," he said, his trademark flirtatious smile spreading across his face as he leaned closer than strictly necessary.

Just a little longer. Just let me touch her a little longer, he thought desperately.

You looked down at his hand on your shoulder with those ancient, knowing eyes, and pushed him away with effortless strength that reminded him exactly what you were. "Whoever it is can wait," you said, your voice carrying the weight of divine authority even in casual dismissal, and walked past them both.

Gojo watched you go, his hand still suspended in the air where you'd been, before he reluctantly sat down on the nearby bench. His entire body felt cold without your proximity.

She pushed me away. Again. Why does that make me want her more?

"You could have just told her that Yuji isn't dead," Nanami said, his voice carefully controlled as he turned a page of his newspaper with more force than necessary. He hadn't been able to focus on a single word since you'd arrived. Your presence was intoxicating, overwhelming—like standing in a temple and feeling the weight of something far greater than yourself.

"I know, but I wanted to tease her a little," Gojo pouted, though his smile remained. Any excuse to make her look at me. To make her react to me.

"You should know better than to tease her now, Gojo," Nanami said coolly, though his jaw tightened. He gets to touch her so casually. He gets to make her smile, make her angry. What I wouldn't give—

"Maybe a little. She's so cute," Gojo beamed, folding his hands together as if in prayer—and perhaps it was, considering who you were. "I'll take her on a date after I start training Itadori!" he declared, snapping his fingers with renewed enthusiasm. "It'll help her mood, right? Dinner, maybe a walk under the stars—she'd look beautiful in moonlight. Not that she doesn't always look beautiful."

A date. With a goddess. The thought alone makes my cursed energy spike.

Nanami's eyebrow twitched, his cursed energy flaring involuntarily before he suppressed it. The newspaper crumpled slightly in his grip. "What would I know? I barely know the girl," he said, his tone clipped and professional, betraying nothing of the jealous heat burning in his chest.

Liar, he thought to himself. I know the way her laugh sounds. I know she takes her tea without sugar. I know the exact shade of divine light that emanates from her when she's amused versus when she's truly happy. I know far too much for someone who 'barely knows' her.

Gojo beamed, oblivious—or perhaps deliberately ignoring—his colleague's tension. "Oh, don't be jealous, Nanami! I love you too, but right now L/N has my heart!" He pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. "All of it. Every single piece."

Not dramatic enough. She has my soul. My very existence. If she asked me to burn the world, I'd ask which part first.

Nanami sighed heavily, setting down his newspaper and pinching the bridge of his nose. This man, he thought frustratedly. But most of all, beneath the irritation and the professionalism he wore like armor, he was simply jealous. Jealous that Y/N was going out with Gojo. Jealous that Gojo would get all her attention, her smiles, her divine presence focused solely on him. Jealous that he himself didn't have the courage—or perhaps the audacity—to reach for something as sacred and untouchable as a god.

She's too far above us all. And yet... I can't stop wanting to reach for her anyway.