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So this is the world without Sukuna. For you, this is the complete loss of everything. Sukuna wasn’t just the center of your world, he was the entirety of it. Every breath was for him. Every thought was of him. There had been nothing else. Your devoutness to him was past loyalty, more like piety. He was a god on which your existence and your world was built. And now he was gone. And he had left you behind.
Well yes, of course it was because he’s dead, but. There’s a sting of betrayal nonetheless. A deep feeling of abandonment. Something that made your bones ache, your muscles tense, your eyes well up with tears. It beat at the inside of your skull till it felt like your head would implode. He left you. He left you. He left you. Words that would swell into screams that got stuck in the back of your throat and left you choking. It felt like something clawing at your skin, at the core of your being. A darkness that could grip at your thoughts and shred them into pain.
The grief sat in your stomach and weighed on your chest, and it made the nights longer. Darker. It dimmed the daylight and twisted the shadows. There was an ever-festering sense of loss. Of emptiness. A gaping wound where Sukuna should have been. Where he once had been. The world felt colder, and the absence of him had become a kind of presence that you felt constantly. The lack of him was obvious. Constant. Painful. Sukuna should have been there, but he wasn’t, and you could feel it in every breath you took.
And there was that bit of anger. At them for killing him. At him for being killed. Clenching fists and jaw. Nails that dug into your palm, trying to find a sense of grounding. The anger never lasted long. It was grief behind a mask, and that mask was paper thin and ragged. The anger would strike suddenly, and then leave just as quick, leaving the crashing weight of it all tumbling right back into the cavity where your heart once was.
And all you could do was sit with it all. Sit with the absence of the man who had been your everything.