Chapter Text
Nobara, elegant and graceful, was an old woman who had lived far too long to endure the nonsense thrust upon her. What could have possibly transpired to end up with her in the past rather than someone more equipped?
Eighty–four years old, ripped out of the beautiful penthouse she adored, taken from her beloved kitten, who would be devastated at her departure. Or, perhaps, none of those things ever occurred–or simultaneously existed in an alternate timeline.
This was certainly Itadori’s fault. It was a wildly unreasonable accusation swelling in her heart as she resisted stomping through the clustered, aged forest, now a day into this horrible experience with no way of escaping it. Just her luck to wake up smack in the middle of an ancient forest with no explanation when she was meant to be enjoying retirement.
Why was she sent back? What time period was she in? Why couldn’t Fushiguro still have been around to endure this instead? Whatever or whoever caused this would certainly regret having chosen her to be ejected into history. Her modern appliances, all her beautiful conveniences…
Nothing could possibly make her feel worse.
“You’re joking.”
Sensing the tiniest blip of Sukuna’s cursed energy would do it, though.
Nobara wondered if it was worth running up to the menace and allowing him to do her in just so she could avoid whatever the hell fate had decided to make her tolerate. She was well past her prime and had zero desire to fight, even if the spunk of her youth would never truly fade. She was rusty. It’d be embarrassing.
Curiosity won out as she settled with the confirmation she was in the Heian era–because, of course, she was sent a thousand years back–guiding her toward where she’d felt the spark. It was so paltry it was hard to believe she even got a glimpse of it. Wasn’t so washed up after all, huh?
A poor, beautiful older woman like her, forced to endure the rugged outdoors, her long dress muddied, and her robe pulled tight around her as she muttered curses against the earth, pausing as a rotten smell finally caught her dulled nose.
Her eye should have detected it first.
Nothing pleasant about a deer carcass. Nobara’s stomach rattled unpleasantly, a deep sigh slipping past her lips. There were already flies feasting on the thing. Absolutely inedible. Having the body of a sorcerer allowed her some pickiness even in old age, though it wouldn’t last very long. She’d have to find a lake and fish or something.
Ugh. Maybe Nobara should curl up and peacefully succumb to the earth. She wasn’t raring to survive in an era like this in the first place.
…What was that sound?
Nobara clutched her outer garment tighter, narrowing her eye and leaning closer, hand resting against a tree for support. The corpse, unlike her initial assumption, was moving. The flies couldn’t be causing it, and her questions were left with no time to form as a writhing creature popped its head out from within the deer, covered in gore, loudly chewing.
Gross. Weirdly, not a curse.
Rather than get closer, she continued to observe carefully. Whatever it was hadn’t noticed her. When it was satisfied with the insides, it crawled out of the deer, falling pathetically to the ground in a heap. It wriggled around while chittering and growling, arms–four?–and legs–only two–flailing uselessly as it remained stuck on its back.
A heavy feeling of dread settled, a dawning realization in her subconscious forming long before her brain could catch up, bewildered by the weird animal as it finally managed to roll over. It turned itself around, resembling a fetus freshly born with its shape and sounds, followed by the disgusting coverage of organs and blood.
Nobara, beside herself, watched the creature consume everything the deer had to offer, picking the carcass as clean as it could–or what seemed worthwhile, as flecks of flesh remained uneaten. Once done, it settled in the bones, curling up into a ball–its makeshift home no safer than lying out in the open.
The creature was asleep, and Nobara approached it with no sense or reason. It was instinct that drove her to crouch quietly beside what remained of the animal, peering through the bones as everything clicked into place.
Sukuna.
Nobara refrained from shouting expletives, observing the familiar yet smaller tattoos through the carnage coating him. A tiny, miniature version of the looming threat she’d helped defeat in that battle so many years ago. Unbelievable suffering, all caused by what was now a tiny babe.
So, what?
Was she sent to the past to…kill him? Was that it? To change the course of history? That seemed reckless. The idea was shot down as soon as she thought of Itadori. Even if he’d moseyed on up to her home after ghosting her for years, their reunion was startling fresh, having only happened days prior. That was partially why she so readily blamed him for whatever the hell was happening.
If she killed Sukuna, Itadori would not be born. Even if she didn’t know everything about his past and all his complicated history, told to her much too long ago to remain fresh, she still knew that one fact clearly.
Killing Sukuna was off the table. Not that she’d be there for the future where Itadori didn’t exist, but just the idea of him not getting the chance to live made her want to hammer a nail into her own head repeatedly.
Sure, it was selfish. Nobara was too old to care about that.
What was next, then?
Raise him to be decent? That wasn’t likely. Currently, Sukuna appeared to be at least one or two years old, enough formative trauma to set him up for failure regardless of what she did from here on out. Nobara also wasn’t known to be empathetic and kind, nor someone who would’ve had children. How would she even begin to figure out how to approach this? There wasn’t a maternal instinct to be found while she stared at the lump of human and curse.
Even a cute baby wouldn’t have done it for her.
More and more, Nobara felt like Itadori was the one who should’ve been yanked to the Heian era to raise a Sukuna capable of…empathy? Not committing mass murder? Not becoming the worst thing to ever happen to the planet, probably?
She wasn’t going to be around for much longer. She was old, would only get weaker, and would eventually die away in a time she never wanted to be in. Nobara accepted it plenty quick–there was no other option, really. And she lived a good, full life. She wasn’t blind to the blessings she’d received after all that torment in her youth.
It was an impasse.
The only thing Nobara had ever raised was a kitten. The one she was just raising, having taken so much time to get the poor stray to even warm up to her. After clueless researching, patience, and bribery, eventually, she’d gotten the mangy thing to accept her. Once the kitten did, it never left her side.
She recalled Itadori lamenting how the kitten hated him, but that’s how her precious cat was with everyone but her. Privilege of the savior, she supposed.
…Thinking about it, wasn’t Sukuna basically a stray cat?
Nobara was holding a truly ridiculous amount of fish she'd caught. She’s amazing and quick on the uptake, so adapting to this sudden rural life she was once entrenched in during childhood wasn't difficult. No home yet, but she’d find one soon. For now, she was following baby Sukuna from a distance, satisfied with her efforts so far.
Once she realized it was as simple as adopting a street kitten, she became a lot more confident in herself and the situation. She wouldn’t be as good as Itadori or Fushiguro in this scenario, but what the hell. Why not throw her hand in the ring and at least keep the twerp occupied until she died? Shave away a tiny portion of the death and destruction he would inevitably inflict on humanity.
It’d been…what, a week of this, so far? Initially, she struggled to get fish, which meant meager offerings for the cranky brat. Their first meeting was a lot of growling and wariness, and it’s only thanks to Nobara’s tactical distance that she wasn’t bitten and infected with rabies.
Sukuna was smart enough to recognize a threat, but not smart enough not to take food from it. She would make herself known, drop the fish, then leave until he felt safe to eat. This was the exact tactic she used on her beloved kitty, and it would obviously work here too. If not, then Sukuna wasn’t worth the effort and was already a lost cause.
Thankfully, he had the sense not to reject her generosity.
As violent as his initial display of gnawing on that deer was, it turned out that any food he consumed was generally caught by luck. He was still a baby, after all, and was thin and gaunt despite the hearty way he managed to crawl around, with sharp red eyes full of determination to live and ultimately kill everyone.
Nobara didn’t find a horrible childhood to excuse poor future behavior, especially not what Sukuna became, but it did allow her understanding. A feral boy with no shred of kindness, likely experiencing his whole childhood like this–at least it made sense why he was so twisted when he was older. Didn’t grow out of it after a thousand years…
Man–child.
Nobara snorted to herself as she approached the baby, who was currently tasting and spitting out grass, nose wrinkled in distaste. With that as the indication of his starvation, Nobara was a lot more confident in today’s endeavor.
Staying while Sukuna ate.
Loud, intentional footsteps made her presence known as Sukuna perked up. For a baby, time would stretch on much longer than for an adult, simply by the nature of linear experience. Nobara felt the time slip past, only burdened by having to rough it out in the woods, a truly unfortunate and cruel fate forced upon her that she lamented every night.
To Sukuna–like a kitten who’d only lived for months–a week of consistent contact was an established routine. She was a familiar figure, smelling the same–gross–and looking the same, always gentle as she beckoned him with the same clicking sound she did for her kitten.
Upon witnessing the armful of fish she brought this time, the baby's eyes widened, staring intensely at the offering. Nobara settled them all on the grass before herself, then sat down behind the pile, a short distance away.
She leaned back, gazing up at the sky, acting uninterested.
An uneasy grunt came from Sukuna, who was waiting for her to leave. Not today, feral baby. Time to establish some more direct bonding.
Nobara was honestly expecting to wait a while, or maybe even for Sukuna to hide away once she overstayed her welcome. Even if he no longer raised his hackles at her presence like before, an alert wariness remained in his form, and the current growl emanating from his tiny being was enough evidence of his displeasure.
What’s he gonna do, though? She could just kick him real hard and he’d splat against the tree.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.
To her very pleasant surprise, Sukuna crawled forward and, after a couple more wary looks and hisses, dug into the food, unable to resist any longer. Nobara muffled a snort of amusement, leaning forward and resting her head on her fist, watching the cursed child eat.
It was fascinating. Sukuna alternated between eating from his mouth and stomach maw. The lower mouth ate the fish whole, while Sukuna would spit out bones if he chewed too hard. Were babies even supposed to have fully formed teeth? She didn’t know anything about childhood development.
Would any of it apply to someone like Sukuna, anyway?
Nobara felt a similar pride to when she first got her kitten to cross this threshold, expression softening as the last of the fish disappeared, and Sukuna’s attention flicked back to her. He observed her with far more intensity than she regarded him, those four eyes of his occasionally darting in different directions. The two malformed sclera protruding from the bone formation were more ingrained in his skin than she initially thought. Would they rise over time? Also, his irises were moving out of sync. Did he struggle to focus all his eyes at once?
Hm. So ugly and stupid it was kind of cute.
Nobara hummed in contentment, slowly standing up and watching Sukuna scuttle back at the movement, braced for attack. She didn’t so much as wave as she departed, steady steps heavy and echoing between them.
For all she lamented this task, it was turning out much easier than she initially assumed.
It was a good thing she had experience with strays.
Maybe Sukuna’s survival instinct wasn’t as intact as she initially assumed.
Unlike her beloved, adorable, smart kitten, who took two weeks of her sitting in its peripheral while it ate before it even dared to sniff her, Sukuna waited all but five days before approaching her calmly sitting form.
After a beat of silence, two of his grubby hands deftly landed on her clothes, staining them with muck and remnants of blood. Not that her initially white dress wasn’t already horrendously stained, but it still hurt her soul.
When Nobara didn’t do anything, he tugged. Seeing no reaction, he upped the ante and began to chitter at her, harsher than she’d use to beckon him, but similar enough that her brows rose.
She clicked her tongue a couple of times in return, and his eyes fixed on her face.
“Hello.”
Sukuna jolted at the fully formed word, her voice smooth, rasped only by the edges of age. Nobara smiled when he resolutely didn’t let go. Courageous and a great judge of character, a point against all other evidence of his head being painfully hollow. When his shoulders fell again, and his other two hands joined in grasping her clothes, she gently reached out, hovering her hand at his eye level.
Nobara kept it just out of biting range and watched.
Unfortunately, Sukuna didn’t have a tail or ears on his head to give her hints about his mood. The malformation distorting half of his face and the distracting curls of black ink left her a little helpless in interpreting his emotions in depth. Still, he wasn’t doing any of the warding behavior of before, not snapping either set of teeth or emanating a growl.
Sukuna stared with rapt attention, waiting for further movement. When it didn’t occur, he shuffled and leaned forward, nose twitching. Nobara pulled her hand away soon after, not wanting him to mistake whatever remnants of fish smell might be lingering as more food.
After a minute or two, Sukuna detached, sat down, and watched with mild interest. Once she was free, she wasted no time standing up. Sukuna jolted in surprise.
Nobara turned and left, like she always did.
This time, Sukuna followed.
There wasn’t a true connection yet. Sukuna, at the moment, likely viewed her as an ambivalent provider. Nobara spent a lot of time by the riverbank, fetching food for herself and now the baby stalking her. He hadn’t tried to communicate with her again, but as the days passed, it became clear he wasn’t going to wander off anymore.
Where Nobara went, the baby followed.
At the moment, her main priority was finding shelter. She did not want to keep braving the elements, sensing rain would come soon. She was lucky with the weather so far, but considering the absolute nightmare of her getting shipped back in time, she wasn’t really banking on the universe doing her any favors–unless it was to make up for the monotonous hell of survival without all her favorite things.
Nobara was adaptable. Amazingly resourceful, strong, and gorgeous even in the most trying of times. She was even able to settle into the wonderful scenery, admiring the stars at night and remaining thankful for her good health despite her now pathetic fish-and-berries diet.
That did not make her new life any less ridiculous.
“You’re getting fatter,” Nobara glanced down to the runt at her side, currently chewing on a larger carp. He glanced at her, listening without a speck of understanding. They were taking a short break from the merciless trek, with her placing the faltering clay pot she’d managed to get together for boiling water aside. Sukuna was immune to the waterborne parasites and the bacteria from raw meat, while Nobara had to dutifully cook everything, thankful she had enough survival skills to last.
Sukuna was fascinated by fire.
The first time she ever touched him was pulling him back after he burned his stubby little hands. It hadn't blistered, and it showed that Sukuna trusted her enough to not lash out when she handled him. Since then, she would intervene when he did something particularly stupid–and finally washed off the grime that’d practically grown into his skin. Pinching the back of his neck had become a habit when maneuvering him. He would go limp like a kitten, and she couldn’t tell if he was doing it consciously or if it was an ingrained instinct.
Even if he originally survived without her, she was hoping to limit his brain damage in hopes of producing a less insufferable version of his older self. So, as they traveled, she found herself saving him from his stupidity more often than not.
When night fell, her sleep would be periodically disturbed by the tiniest swell of cursed energy, emanating from the runt curled against her side for warmth.
It wasn’t the worst, but she wouldn’t last much longer with this kind of terrible lifestyle. Thankfully, the universe finally answered her pleas.
A swell of cursed energy preluded the sight of what would absolutely be her new home. Nobara wanted to kiss the abandoned shrine, lackluster as it might seem, swiping the sharpened stick she made for fishing to deal with whatever curse was inside. She entered in a hurry, forgetting Sukuna. She was busy admiring the decent scenery and eliminating the honestly pathetic curse lingering in the messy courtyard.
She stabbed the purple-stained stick into the ground, admiring her new home.
Yes, it might be covered in overgrown greenery and dust, littered with old items, but the main temple and side halls were intact. Nobara left out a short laugh of triumph, only to stumble and nearly faceplant right into the rock path when something collided with her leg.
She peered down, disconcerted, unable to kick off whatever had clung on.
“Sukuna?”
It was the first time his name left her mouth. The child stared up at her, wrapped around her leg like a little overweight tick. When she spoke, he was quick to make sounds at her, squeezing enough to hurt. With a frown, she crouched down, noting how he didn’t let go even when she was near his level.
A hand settled on his head.
Sukuna jumped, head tilting up and all wide eyes darting to her arm, lips curling back, his body vibrating in warning.
Gently, she rubbed back and forth through his puff of pink hair.
The beginnings of a frightened snarl faded as she continued, his distorted expression softening into something human again.
“There, there, fat kit.” Nobara snorted, shaking her head. “I can’t walk with you clinging onto me like that.” A swell of pride followed her words, knowing they’d reached the next step of domestication–well…adoption.
Sukuna had actually clung to her of his own accord and allowed her to pet him.
Turns out all her doubts were for nothing. If things continued like this, maybe she’d make a real difference in the future. Not that she was thinking much about the headache that would be schooling, or instilling morals when her own were already questionable. The most important thing was not destroying the world, so that would be her main goal.
Did she know any children’s stories? Parables? Mythology?
Ah, she was smart enough! She could come up with some if she needed to, or just teach the brat the old-fashioned way.
For now, she’d bask in the success of forming a shaky bond with the little menace. Perfect timing, now that they'd found a home.
That was the reigning thought until night fell, and her exhausted body slumped into a raised sleeping platform–barely able to be considered a bed.
Woe was her, aged and without a proper mattress.
“I regret everything,” Nobara lamented to nobody. Sukuna was latched onto her lying form as crickets chirped outside. That entire day was spent tidying up the shrine, and the whole time, Sukuna had found ways to cling to her even when she tried to shake him off, a sure sign he was recognizing her as a guardian. A blessing and a curse.
When she did attempt to pry him off, he would actually dare bite her! The hand that fed him, he tried to bite! Even when she smacked him–gently, she’s not a monster and holds her strength against a not-so-helpless baby–the brat refused to budge at all. The only trick that worked was pinching the nap of his neck. Sukuna would bruise soon if he kept it up.
Ridiculous. Truly ridiculous. At least with a kitten, it was easy to lug the little thing around. Sukuna was already pretty heavy. Nobara could only pray he stopped doing this once he realized she wasn’t going to evaporate the moment she was out of sight. Babies and the lack of object permanence…when did they grow out of that? She could’ve sworn it was early on. Maybe it was simply delayed due to his isolation.
Which was another large question she shouldered. How did Sukuna survive? There wasn’t a way she could ask him. Even if he seemed nearly two years old based on her uneducated estimates, a newborn couldn’t survive without an outside hand. He had to have been raised until he could crawl on his own, but they were deep in an isolated forest. The boy scuttled around quite fast when he wanted to, so she wouldn't doubt he'd journeyed far from his origin.
Too many questions she’d never know the answer to. She doubted she’d be able to go out searching for answers, either.
Sorcerer strength only went so far in an elderly body, loathed as she was to admit it. Cursed energy was what kept her alive, strong, and functional, even with drastically different living circumstances–not much more could be allocated to pure strength or unnecessary travel.
Sukuna was indeed abandoned, but not from birth. He survived, somehow. And now, the torch of responsibility was nonchalantly snatched up by her.
Nobara would never know Sukuna’s origins.
Frankly, she was fine with that.
The temple brought a lot of blessings–a proper well, many functionalities she’d been lacking, such as shelter and items for cooking and hunting, as well as candles and various ritual items she’d be using for other purposes. The final delight was clothing.
When her hands grazed over the old fabrics, she lingered on a familiar pairing. A name settled on her tongue as she lifted a white kosode and a bright red hakama. “Utahime…” She murmured, expression softening. Rationally, the kariginu would be better suited to her continued activities, even if designed for men.
But it wouldn’t look beautiful on her form.
And it didn’t kindle that distant, far, far distant warmth in her chest.
When she fully changed into the new garments, she gently folded her old modern clothes, knowing they couldn’t be worn if she were to ever meet others. Luckily, they didn’t stand out much compared to the draping silk and robes of the time period, but the mechanical stitching and mixed material would seem odd. That would also apply to her eyepatch.
She would worry about that when she actually attempted to find and visit a village.
Perhaps she could pass as an elderly miko, or a wandering shaman if they had any curses she could expel for them in return for necessities. Language…ugh, language would be a nightmare. She could pretend to be a foreigner with her current hair color and pick up what was necessary.
There was no way she would set Sukuna up for success academically. Might as well give up now. He’d surely pick up the language once she was out of the picture. He did it all on his own originally, right?
Nobara, as was obvious by her continued internal questioning, didn’t know much about Sukuna's past.
Even now, as she finally wrangled some cloth over his lower half, she wondered if he ever did find a place to belong as he grew, even if temporarily. Was he truly independent from childhood to death? Did that kindle his resentment of the world and distance from others? He was etched into history for his chaotic strength and domination of the era, yet he also spoke eloquently, like most nobles of the time period, as far as she could recall. He was a fully functional adult.
There wasn’t much Nobara remembered about Sukuna personally beyond the final showdown–and even then, the fight was a blur besides her own contribution. Time eased all wounds, just as the sands gradually build over once lucid memories, drowning the past in murky grains. All that could be made out were the sensations in her chest, emotions lingering despite the decades.
Lonely. Yes, that would be a good word for it.
Every time he stood after defeating an opponent, that was all that there was.
Himself.
Surely, he didn’t need anyone else for fulfillment. Nobara also managed fine and was content on her own. That didn’t mean she lacked relationships she cherished, or people she enjoyed conversing with. Even those she never got to see again, that she yearned desperately for in her childhood–a lost bond was still once wonderful.
Yes, she didn’t technically need anyone, but she wanted them, and humans were naturally social creatures. She was self-aware enough to recognize her own desire for companionship, with humans or a pet as a replacement.
“Did you not allow yourself to want because you believed it made you weak?” Nobara questioned the baby as she sat on a withered bench, noticing how he’d gradually moved from beside her to being directly on her lap. She patted his head, playing with the puffy strands of pink that reminded her of Itadori, softening her heart.
Sukuna rumbled in response. Nobara’s head angled to the side, hair sliding over her ear.
“Or maybe…you didn’t allow yourself to want because you already decided you would never receive.”
He was so warm she could feel his presence through the fabric draped over her legs. His body rose and fell evenly, but his eyes remained open. Semi–alert, yet far from the bundle of nerves he initially was. Had he seen her dispel the curse? Was that why he clung on?
Nobara rubbed his back, gazing at where his extra two arms had sprouted from.
“I wonder how much of your philosophy was dictated by your initial helplessness.”
There was no connection between the living calamity and the child now in her care. The disconnect was too prominent in her mind. Maybe as he aged, she would come to recognize a steel in his gaze, a cruelty deeply embedded within a writhing soul.
Somebody like Itadori endured all the pain and suffering in the world, yet remained good, desperately so. It was nearly saintly, the way Itadori functioned and treated others. She, and all the other sorcerers she knew, also endured trauma and hardship at varying levels without forsaking the world.
When society rejected them, some grew kind, some hardened.
Sukuna being tormented from birth didn’t excuse the fact that he went on to massacre people on a massive scale, eating and tormenting all that he pleased. He must’ve initially lived the only way he knew, but it was still a choice to stay on that path forever after he grew.
The question remained.
Was it biological nature or nurturing that truly defined who a person became? Realistically, it was both. But which side had more impact?
If Maki were here, Nobara would ask her.
“… That’d be a sore subject,” Nobara chuckled wryly, shaking her head. Even people as wonderful as Maki and Okkotsu ended up with a boy like that. At least their grandchildren were wonderful, the example she expected out of the upperclassman she heavily admired.
If even they couldn’t succeed at parenting, then, truly, it was sometimes beyond the adults' control.
Surrounding circumstances, society, peers, all those things…all of them would be instilled in the child’s soul, regardless of the protection or desires of their guardians. And here Nobara was, already too late to erase the lonesome year and a half Sukuna had spent all alone, feasting on corpses and barely surviving like a feral animal.
He wouldn’t forget.
Yes, he wouldn’t consciously remember, regardless of his adaptability, but it had already formed the foundation of his being. Regardless of the safety and security Nobara could provide from this point on, Sukuna would never be cleansed of the hell this world birthed him into.
Gently, Nobara turned the boy over, smiling when he rolled back onto his stomach, four arms wrapped around himself.
A scrambling little turtle.
“Poor thing.”
There was a reason she never had children.
Life was as peaceful as it could be while raising a feral kid. Time passed fast in the habitual existence she shared with Sukuna, wondering how long he’d been traveling to sleep all the time like he was. Once she affirmed her presence, he entered a sort of hibernation period, with an exception to whenever she wasn’t within a very specific range.
She had a theory that he was sensing her cursed energy, now that he was resting his eyes more. No matter how exhausted he seemed, he refused to be left behind when she went hunting, and as the weeks went on, he’d grown more and more spoiled.
Refusing to sleep unless he got to lie on her–wanting her to directly feed him, making her bathe him, and even carry him around when he had all the capabilities of surviving on his own. As a temporary measure, she used some spare silk to make a swaddle to carry him around in. He didn’t like being against her back, loudly whining and growling until she bundled him against her front instead.
What a brat.
Sukuna still hadn’t cried, not that she was complaining, but she really needed to stop communicating in nonsense sounds. Even if she imagined him as a stray cat for her own sanity, it wasn’t good to leave him with no means of proper communication with her. So, she broached words, pointing at and emphasizing the important things.
Instead of repeating words back, he started varying the sounds he made.
Chirping when he was calling for her attention, growling when upset, whining when needy or afraid, making a simple ah sound when hungry or thirsty–which she eventually got him to distinguish between the two with an ah, ah for hunger, and ah for thirst. He rumbled when he was content, like a cat's purr, and would snap his teeth as a warning. On the other hand, if he snapped his lower maw, it was playful.
His stomach mouth, as it turned out, was incredibly vulnerable, or Sukuna perceived it as such. Another step in their increased affinity was when he began rolling over on his own, displaying his stomach to her in a show of trust. Nobara would pat his chests–did he have two sets of lungs, too?–playfully, or poke around curiously, which did earn her first giggle.
A sound that had wrought her with undefinable emotion, contemplating everything and nothing all the same.
Wrong as it was, when he behaved like an animal, it was easier for her to tend to him. It made her feel more confident in the situation and in her handling. Whenever reminded that he was undeniably still a human baby, making adorably innocent expressions or genuinely babbling without meaning, her chest would ache.
If they were in modern times, couldn’t she do so much more for him? If she knew more about all of this? No part of her understood child rearing, and while she couldn’t possibly make Sukuna turn out worse, a nagging unease remained.
She wasn’t going to be around for long. Realistically, another ten years might be fine to bank on, but she’d be weakening consistently. She hadn’t even made contact with outer society yet. Sukuna knew so little–all he had was her.
And then, as she cradled the boy in her arms, she reconciled that–
Well, all she had was him, too.
Sukuna was particularly sleepy that day. She’d been noticing his increasing bouts of rest after larger and larger meals–his growth was also happening more rapidly than she expected. It wouldn’t be long before she couldn't carry him around.
With that in mind, she took the opportunity to slip out of the shrine and search for a village while he remained behind. She had no doubts he’d be okay, considering he survived on his own before her. She’d left a bunch of fresh fish and her eyepatch behind as a means to indicate her lack of abandonment.
That was the intention, at least.
Now, her head was simply wrapped in bandages, securely hiding the old wound. To Nobara’s delight, there was a path not far from the shrine, leading to a distant bustling village. She’d brought whatever goods remained in the shrine for trading, surprised that there were offerings left behind. The curse she came upon must’ve been a menace to those who resided there, enough for them to flee while leaving so much.
Another stroke of her genius was her decision to remain mute. She would make sounds to communicate, to avoid any mistaken belief that she was cursed or polluted–what a lousy era–while doing her best to understand the language, picking out a couple of words, but mostly lost to everything around them.
It was a nice village, at least. They recognized Nobara's old age and respected that, along with her clean garb. She carried herself with grace and strength, dutifully trading for simple necessities, pleased by everything she managed to bargain. The temple's offerings wouldn’t last her forever, but they’d make do for the time being. She only purchased what was necessary, relieved to find seeds for a garden.
There was space for it at the shrine. Farming wasn’t entirely unknown to Nobara, even if it’d been eons since she last had her mind on such a tiring task. Truly, the city life was what she was born for.
Nobara left without much fanfare, mimicking the locals' polite behavior as she went. It was an hour-long walk, give or take, so the journey wasn’t egregiously long. Sukuna should still be fast asleep. Would he like vegetables? He ate fruit if given, but preferred meat far more. A balanced diet was important.
Her overall calm remained until she neared the shrine, when a haunting noise pierced the trees and froze her in place. She narrowed her eye, a familiar spark of cursed energy sending her into action, rushing toward her home with a steadily thudding heart, her basket of goods clutched firmly.
Screaming.
Painful and scratchy, a sound that had continued past what its host could produce.
With a perfectly blank mind, she rushed as fast as she could, lamenting once more her aging bones as she swerved into the shrine entrance, dropping the basket safely to the side while she made a beeline to the source of the agonizing cries. When she finally came upon him, that once feral boy who only knew how to snap and fight, Nobara’s heart could no longer deny the truth.
Sukuna was clutching her eyepatch, the fish all untouched, suffocating on his own tears, voice hoarse and yet still pushed to screech, overwhelmed and entirely alone.
The eyes upon the protruding bone on his left side registered her first, the rest following as he fixated his attention on her return, bolting at her as fast as he could crawl–momentarily bounding on two feet in his desperation to get closer. Nobara stared, paralyzed as he collided with her leg, then gripped and climbed up the fabric of her long skirt and the robe tucked within, tucking himself right beneath her head, burrowing into her neck. Tears and snot smeared against her clothing and skin, pink hair tickling her chin.
A wrinkled hand reached up, trembling as it cradled his back. The moment she touched, his crying began to calm, transitioning into frantic, repeated whines, quivering as his ear pressed against her pulse.
Nobara’s eyes stung, supporting Sukuna’s legs with her other hand, attempting to adjust his position. He wailed again in distress until she stopped, allowing him to stay where he wanted. The pressure of his tiny arms was painful, but she allowed it, returning to the makeshift bed and sitting herself down, keeping her breathing even. Sukuna continued to squeeze her neck tightly.
It was only when she lay back down on the bed that he softened his grip, no longer worrying about falling or separation. Sukuna sniffled and hiccupped, babbling incoherently. Nobara rubbed his back, up and down, and whispered about where she had been.
He wouldn’t understand.
For some reason, she explained herself anyway, apologizing to the child she’d left alone and unattended for hours, sneaking off when he’d been asleep. She talked about what she purchased, the better meals they could share in the future, and the sewing needles and thread she got to make him proper clothing.
She should’ve gotten him a toy.
Ah, she could make him one herself, now.
Would that be a good apology?
Somehow, in her old age, she’d managed to discover a very new kind of pain. A helpless, regretful ache that swelled behind her remaining eye, and weighed heavily against her lungs, sinking nauseatingly within her stomach.
How dreadful.
Nobara shut her eye and continued to pet Sukuna, who had finally calmed down enough to breathe properly. Then, as if she’d never wronged him at all, he began to rumble, nuzzling against her neck.
He was a big baby. Probably over thirty pounds at this point. A toddler might be a more proper term now that her diligent feedings had filled him out. Even then, his behavior left her with the impression of an infant, feral as he behaved initially.
Sukuna should not trust her again so easily, yet he did.
How long had he been screaming to wear out his poor throat? He never spoke much in the first place. After being left alone and seemingly abandoned, considering his prior feral behavior, shouldn't he lash out and resent her? Why hadn't he...
Nobara's eye fluttered open.
“I won’t die so easily,” she said, soft as she could deliver the reassurance.
He wouldn’t understand.