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The little boy sat in the forest, back pressed against the bark so tightly it could form imprints into him. He was large for a child, large enough that he couldn’t fully fit under the trees for protection.
Rain pattered onto his head almost every second, it was raining very heavily, the only safety was in the lack of thunder. His stomach grumbled loud enough that it could be heard over the rain, it felt like his ribs were going to cave in.
“Hello?” A voice from somewhat afar called out, had they heard Sukuna’s grumbling? Doesn’t matter.
Sukuna blinks and suddenly the young boy stands in front of him now, short blond-ish white hair fell just above his shoulders, he could only be a few years older than Sukuna.
There was something haunting in those light blue eyes, light lashes framed the glowing eyes in the dark, casting light upon Sukuna’s body cuddled to a tree for shelter.
“Are you hungry?” Said the boy, as a soft open smiled came upon his face, his own hands interlaced together.
Yet Sukuna did not respond, wary of his intentions, no one sane ever gave him food, even some huge animals would run from his presence.
The white haired kid reached into an attachment on the obi of his far too big kimono that dragged behind him, pulling out a small amount of money and a loaf of fresh, clean bread before offering it all over to the ‘monster’.
Sukuna’s eyes narrow, two of his shaky hands grabbing the items offered to him before he bites into the wheat of bread before him, his stomach finally shuts up as he practically attacks the bread until nothings left.
“Your name?” Says the boy, now drenched by the rain, expensive brown kimono dripping and wet.
“…” He hesitates. “Ryomen Sukuna.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Sukuna, I’m Michotsuki Sugawara.” He says in return, bowing slightly to him, in which Sukuna does not return the action to bow back.
A piece of cooked beef is shoved into Sukuna’s hands, which Sukuna tears into immediately with strong teeth.
“I hope you don’t get sick. You seem kind, may you please stay that way if possible?” Michotsuki tells him.
He does not answer as Michotsuki holds his hands into his own smaller, soft ones.
“We’ll meet again, someday.” No wavering or question was in Michotsuki’s voice, it’s like he was certain that was the truth.
Rain soaks the young sorcerer’s light hair as he walks back through the forest, his grey socks making disgustingly wet noises against the dirt & plants of the forest Sukuna is used to.
…
Maybe it was the truth, Michotsuki thinks as he stands in front of the tall, wretched being. The dark veil covering his narrow teary eyes as he puts his thumb against his middle finger and a purple light glows from it, short ponytail flying with the wind..
…
He does not regret that night nor does he regret apologising to Sukuna as he perished, even as he slowly bleeds out on the floor of the clan estate, he does not blame his siblings that murdered him.
He does not hate even the clan members that made him killed whom he loved.