mortal flesh

The Heian era breathes blood and brilliance. Beneath silk robes and golden shrines, curses fester like rot beneath polished wood. Sorcerers walk among nobles; their hands stained with unseen battles that keep the world from collapsing into madness.But tonight, under the Crimson Moon, everything changes.A child is born in a village that will vanish from history. His mother dies screaming, her body torn apart from within. Midwives flee. Temple bells ring in reverse. And the sky—oh, the sky—bleeds red, mourning the arrival of something unnatural.They name him Ryomen Sukuna.Not out of reverence. Out of fear.He emerges with two faces. Four arms. Eyes that do not blink. Silence clings to him, swallowing sound. Elders call him a demon. Priests try to burn him. But the flames bend away from his skin, as if fire itself refuses to touch him.By five, Sukuna sees curses. By seven, he commands them. By ten, he's already killed three wandering sorcerers who attempt to exorcise him.He doesn't speak until twelve. When he does, both mouths move in unison."You call me a curse. But I am the truth you fear."Clans whisper. Is he a vessel? A god? A mistake?The jujutsu elders send assassins. Sukuna sends their heads back in baskets woven from their own hair.He builds a shrine from bones. He carves his name into the sky with cursed energy so thick it turns birds to ash mid-flight.Yet he isn't cruel for cruelty's sake. He spares children. He feeds the hungry. He teaches those who listen. But his mercy is unpredictable lightning that sometimes kisses the earth instead of splitting it.One day, a wandering monk approaches him."You are powerful," the monk says. "But power without purpose is a curse."Sukuna smiles. Both mouths curl in opposite directions."Then let me be the greatest curse this world has ever known."