Chapter 1: The King's New Path
"Of course. After all, I lost."
Ryomen Sukuna's final words to Mahito echoed in the void as he and Uraume began their journey north. Mahito's enraged screams followed them, but they reached deaf ears. The King of Curses' mind was somewhere else entirely.
For the first time in a millennium, Ryomen Sukuna had truly tasted defeat. While he'd been bested by Satoru Gojoupon his initial awakening, he'd only wielded a fraction of his full power then—just one of his twenty fingers. This loss was different. This loss forced the king to confront something he'd never questioned before: his own ideology.
Sukuna's ideology is a very easy one to grasp: He does whatever the hell he wants. Ryomen lived only for his own self pleasures and his own self gain; Never sparing a single thought for anyone else's. His foundation for his hedonistic actions revolve around him becoming the strongest with his beliefs, effectively making all over beliefs obsolete compared to his.
However Yuji Itadori was the exception.
Even if the brat had help during the fight, Itadori's beliefs ultimately bested Sukuna's. Unlike Ryomen Sukuna, who had cast aside every attachment in his relentless pursuit of power, Yuji clung to his bonds, using them as his driving force to push himself forward. In a final, desperate push, aided by Nobara Kugisaki, Itadori successfully freed Megumi Fushiguro from the fallen king's cursed grasp.
With the King of Curses now dead, Sukuna reflected on his ideals and realized that he had two paths that he could follow. One path led to the woman who reinforced Sukuna's Hedonist tendencies and the other path led to his trusted subordinate, the ice sorcerer, Uraume. During Sukuna's first lifetime, he chose the former path due to his not wanting to be cursed by the "Curse of Twins"; however, now seeking something different, he chose to go on a different path with Uraume.
Sukuna had never truly cared for Uraume, yet he undeniably valued Uraume's life. When he first discovered the young sorcerer, weeping on top of his cold, deceased parents, the king only saw a potential icehouse for his food. However, the young ice sorcerers proved to be even more useful when they cooked Ryomen's food for him. As the Frozen Star matured, his skill in combat emerged, further increasing Uraume's value to Sukuna. Uraume had remained steadfastly by the king's side through life, reincarnation, and even through death, exploding their female vessel the moment Sukuna fell. While Sukuna may not have ever developed genuine affection, unlike the other woman, Uraume truly cared for the King of Curses. And so, Sukuna decided to stay by his servant's side.
As Sukuna and his pupil walked hand in hand, drawing ever closer to a brilliant white light, Uraume finally asked, "Lord Sukuna, do you know what lies down this path?"
Ryomen glanced at his servant, responding nonchalantly, "I don't know. This is my first time truly dying, after all."
As the King of Curses and the Frozen Star exchanged a look just before entering the shining radiance, Sukuna did something uncharacteristic. "If anything bad happens to you in this next lifetime," he assured Uraume, "you can always come look for me."
Uraume nodded. Together, both sorcerers stepped into the brilliant light, enveloped, their hands separating as they closed their eyes and walked on.
On a New Earth:
Ryomen Sukuna's four eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting that of a surprised but beaming female doctor with black hair, probably because the newborn baby wasn't crying. He found himself cradled in her hands, a stark contrast to his past life, where he was dropped due to his monstrous appearance. As the former King of Curses surveyed the hospital room, he noted its striking resemblance to the hospital where Itadori's grandfather had passed. Although Sukuna was not surprised since the last time he was born, he developed his consciousness inside of the womb.
As he adjusted to his surroundings, he looked down at his own 22 pound body and was shocked at how it looked. It was an exact replica of his appearance when he was a child. He had the same sharp, menacing four eyed eyes, creepy four arms, two unsettling mouths and familiar dark black tattoos from his past life. Yet, a flicker of understanding followed. When he first reincarnated into Itadori, their body types were remarkably similar. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised.
What did surprise the young sorcerer was the stark difference between himself and his mother. She was a slender woman with luscious green hair, wearing a hospital gown. Her round green eyes, wide with shock, and a soft, round face, clearly conveyed her astonishment. Her newborn looked nothing like she could have imagined. Still, despite the unexpected appearance of her child, she extended her hands, a tender smile gracing her lips, and whispered, "Welcome to Earth, my darling Izuku."
Sukuna couldn't recall the last time he'd been given a proper name. "Ryomen Sukuna" had always been a title, forged to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies. Yet, he found himself accepting "Izuku." The name, meaning "coming out of a long departure," was ironically fitting for his recent reincarnation.
However, the doctor's expression was not as joyful as his mothers'. A mixture of confusion and worry enveloped her face as she continued to examine the mother's womb.
"Is there a problem?" the mother asked, a tremor of worry in her voice.
"It's about the other twin," the doctor replied somberly, "it looks like he didn't make it. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Midoriya."
Now known as Mrs. Midoriya, the woman's eyes welled with tears of sadness. In a shallow, grief-stricken voice, she whispered, "It's okay, Dr. Taeko. After all the checkups and MRI scans, I'm just happy that one of our babies is alive." She clutched the newly named Izuku tightly to her chest.
The reborn Izuku, however, was more perplexed than ever. Hadn't his new journey been about embracing the "Curse of Twins," consequences and all? Had he, against all odds, stumbled back onto the same cursed path?
As his mother wept over him, a soft knock echoed from the hospital room door. Two figures and a young baby entered. First, a red-eyed woman around Mrs. Midoriya's age, with spiky ash-blonde hair and an angular face, dressed in a lavender cardigan over a white neck shirt and a brown pencil skirt. Beside her stood a black-eyed man with light brown, straight hair and a gentle face, wearing a long green button-up shirt and khaki pants. Finally, cradled in the woman's arms, was an infant who had the same striking red eyes as the blonde woman.
Even through her tears, Mrs. Midoriya managed a weak smile as she greeted the woman. "Mitsuki! Thank you so much for coming! Have you heard from Hisashi yet? I want him to be able to hold his newborn baby."
Mitsuki's sad expression deepened. "Inko, Hisashi is dead."
"No…" Inko's face contorted in shock and horror. "That's not true. Masaru, please tell me she's joking?"
Masaru looked as utterly defeated as his wife. "Ten minutes ago, while we were waiting for him to wake up, we got a call from an ambulance. Hisashi died in a car crash on the way to the hospital. Since you were busy in labor, they called us because 'the Bakugous were the only other emergency contact.' I'm so sorry, Inko."
Now more distraught than ever, Inko began to cry, clutching the reborn King of Curses tightly as the Bakugous gathered around her, trying to console the grieving widow.
As Izuku gazed up at his mother's devastated face, he heard her incoherent murmurs of reassurance: "We still have each other," and "Things will get better," repeated over and over to her new baby boy.
Four Years Later at 7:00 pm:
Things did not, in fact, get better for the Midoriyas.
Four years after Izuku's birth, Inko's mental health had drastically deteriorated. She desperately tried to be a happy, supportive mother, but the double blow of losing both her unborn son and her husband, Hisashi, made it impossible. Even with the unwavering support of the Bakugous, she couldn't become the perfect mother figure that Izuku deserved.
Ironically, Izuku's very existence only made Inko's suffering worse. He was an anomaly, a four-year-old standing at four feet, five inches tall, with pink hair and a body rippling with pure muscle. He'd spoken in full, comprehensible sentences at two months old and walked at four months old. Inko had initially thought that these early milestones were miracles, but her perspective changed as Izuku grew.
He didn't act like a child. He behaved with a maturity that rivaled Inko's own. He never played with Katsuki, the Bakugous' son, when they brought him over, treating the boy as little more than a nuisance. Consequently, the Bakugous stopped bringing Katsuki since. Izuku ignored the toys Inko painstakingly bought for him, preferring to roam the house and devour advanced books far beyond a typical child's knowledge. His appetite, too, was insatiable, forcing Inko to get Quirk Insurance just to afford enough food. One night, returning home exhausted from work, she found him, a mere three-year-old, cooking dinner with a stoic expression for her.
Her child's rapid, almost inhuman development made it impossible for Inko to forge a deep connection with him. She saw a stranger, not her own son. Since Izuku's birth, her life had spiraled into a living hell. Beyond the grief of losing her husband, she constantly struggled to pay rent, cycling through job after job just to provide for her small family—mostly for Izuku.
These combined factors led to Inko Midoriya developing severe postpartum depression when Izuku was nine months old, a condition that only worsened with time. Her smile had vanished six months after Izuku's birth, replaced by a pure look of dejection. Deep bags shadowed her eyes, and her already skinny body looked like a skeleton from overwork. She could barely bring herself to look at her son anymore; a deep, unsettling hatred simmered beneath the surface. While she intellectually understood that Izuku's unusual nature was likely due to his quirk, her life had become a nightmare because of him. The thought of ending her suffering by killing him had even crossed her mind, but she knew, chillingly, that such an act would only deepen her torment.
Finally after four and a half years of dealing with this pain, Inko finally caves in and asks Izuku, "Hey Honey?"
"Yes, Mother?" the pink-haired boy replied, wearing a black shirt, with red shorts and shoes, with a unnervingly mature voice.
"Do you want to get some meat from the store to have for dinner?"
A faint smile touched Izuku's lips. "I guess I can," he answered, standing up from the coach. "I can't say no to eating your delicious meat after all"
As Izuku walks to the front door, he turns back, surprised that his mother didn't follow him to the door.
The tattooed-boy questionally asks "Your not going to follow me into the store"
The mother responds that "Your mature enough to go by yourself" she says with a fake smile on her face
Izuku shrugged, then continued out the door. But just as he stepped a foot out of the apartment, Inko rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She whispered softly into his ear, "Despite everything that has happened these last few years, deep down I will always still love you."
Izuku, confused by the sudden affection nods his head and exits out the door, none the wiser.
30 Minutes Later:
Izuku approached his apartment door, two bags of meat dangling from his lower two hands. His mind wanders, reflecting on his new life as Izuku Midoriya. Surprisingly, he'd found more enjoyment in this mundane existence than he ever thought he would. While the thrill of battle was absent, this quiet life offered one distinct advantage: his mother.
In his past life, Sukuna had been an unwanted child, an accident born to a prostitute mother who saw his birth as divine punishment for her sins of lust. She never spoke a word to him. Villagers, horrified by his appearance, openly called him a monster. All he'd ever craved was his mother's love and approval, but she'd unceremoniously thrown him out at the age of four.
In this new life, however, Izuku's mother had loved him. Though they hadn't been taking as much as they used too, she still ensured he was healthy and fed. And unlike his past, people in the city didn't stare at him with disgust. Yes, some glanced, but they quickly moved on. Thanks to the prevalence of mutation quirks, Izuku's once monstrous form was now a common sight; many others had strange appendages or even resembled animals. Still, even with all of these positive changes in his new life, he still wonders what happened to his twin brother's soul.
As the red-eyed boy finally reached his front door, he attempted to open the door, however, he found that the door was locked.
Confused, the four-armed child knocked, calling for his mother to let him in. But silence answered him. As he looked closer, he noticed a note, written in his mother's handwriting, taped to the door.
Izuku read it, a growing sense of unease coiling in his gut:
To Izuku Midoriya,
"I know you must be confused about why the door is locked, and even more confused about this note."
"I know this will hurt you, but I have decided to ask you to leave the house."
"Izuku, I've tried to be the best mother I can for you, but I just can't do it anymore. Every time I look at you, all I feel is anger and disgust. I know you didn't kill your father or your little brother, but my mind can't help but believe you caused their deaths. And I know you might just be an incredibly smart child for your age, but I can't shake the feeling that you're not a child at all, but a devil in disguise. I've even thought about killing you multiple times in your sleep, just to be free from your existence."
"I realize that as your mother and guardian, this isn't a healthy relationship for us to have. That's why I've made the decision to distance myself from you. I know you're a smart and caring boy, because if you weren't, you wouldn't have made dinner for me after a long day of work. I hope another family can see all the good in you and treat you as their own."
"Despite everything I've said in this letter, somewhere deep down in my heart, I still love you."
"I wish you the best, and perhaps we can meet again later in life."
Sincerely,
Your Mother, Inko Midoriya
Izuku's gaze hardened, a raw anger seeping into his face as his grip tightened on the letter.
He closed his four eyes, took a deep, shuddering breath, then carefully placed the note back on the door. He turned and walked away from the apartment complex.
For the second time in Sukuna's lifetime, he had once again become an unwanted child.
On the Streets of Musutafu at 7:45 pm
Izuku Midoriya, now simply Izuku, walked the streets of Musutafu, the bags of meat still clutched in his lower hands. His mind raced, pondering his next move. An orphanage was out of the question; he was unlike other children his age, and he knew he'd never be adopted, condemned to be stuck within the system.
His mother's parting words echoed, a twisted blend of love and rejection. He decided to test them, approaching a family of four. "Excuse me," he said, in a pathetic attempt to try to sound as harmless as a four-year-old could, "my mother… left me and I need help"
"We're sorry, young man," the father said, barely glancing at him. "We're in a rush. Try a hero agency; they'll help."
Unfortunately for Izuku, no heroes were in sight.
He continued to approach family after family, each one offering the same hollow advice: "The heroes would know what to do," or "The Hero Commission would take care of you."
Hours of futile wandering bled into the night. Finally, he spotted a hero agency, a beacon in the darkening city. He hurried inside. At the front desk, he explained his abandonment to the woman behind the counter. Her response was immediate, cold, and utterly unhelpful.
Instead of saying she would contact a hero or scheduling an appointment for him, she monotonously replied, "Sorry, kid, we can't help you."
Shocked, Izuku's voice hardened. "Isn't it your job to help citizens in need? What do you mean you can't help?"
The woman's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Our agency only focuses on saving people from threats or active danger. Since you're not dealing with either of those, we sadly can't help you. The only thing we can provide for you is a blanket." She handed him a red blanket. "Perhaps another hero agency can help you there."
Frustration boiling over, Izuku stormed out, the blanket crumpled in his hand. It was 10:00 PM, and he desperately needed a place to stay. He decided to seek refuge in a nearby alley. As he stepped into its shadows, his stomach grumbled from hunger. He laid his red blanket onto the ground and then reached into his bags to pull out the frozen meat. To his dismay, the once bright red cuts had turned a mottled dark red and brown. Despite the spoiled food, Izuku had no choice; he had no money for fresh food.
As he ate the rancid meat, a furious thought echoed in his mind: "Why is my life still the same? I thought reincarnation, a different path, would make it better, but the core events were only delayed! Should I just revert to my hateful ways? Should I become the King of Curses again?"
He hurled the empty bags across the alley, his voice raw as he shouted, "DID I EVEN CHOOSE THE RIGHT DAMN PATH?!"
"No, Izuku. You took the right path."
Izuku's head snapped up. He spun around, searching the shadows. Nothing.
"You've really gotten rusty, Sukuna."
Finally, his four eyes pinpointed the source of the voice: from directly below him. He looked down and lifted up his shirt. For the first time since his reincarnation, the mouth on his stomach stretched into a wide, unsettling smile.
"Can you still look into your soul?" the mouth asked, its voice continuing to emanate from his body.
The pink-haired boy nodded, closing his eyes, and plunged into the domain of his soul.
Inside of Izuku's Soul
As Ryomen opened his four eyes, he found his soul largely unchanged from his past life. Skeletal ribs of colossal beasts jutted from the cracked earth, forming grotesque archways. A river of black, viscous blood snaked through the barren landscape, its thick current carrying the cloying scent of iron and death. The air hung heavy and oppressive beneath a perpetually red sky, burdened by centuries of malice. At the core of it all and what he is currently sitting on, a bone throne, crafted from the calcified remains of countless defeated foes, awaited.
However, two significant differences immediately stood out.
First, Izuku's form within his soul was not that of his true, monstrous self. Instead, he mirrored his appearance inside Yuji Itadori's soul: six feet tall—= shorter than his seven-foot-three true form. He also lacked his lower two arms and the extra mouth on his chest. Only his four eyes, pink hair, tattoos, and white kimono remained from his former soul.
Second, sixty yards ahead, a new, unsettling intrusion marred Sukuna's chaotic domain. Not a grand realm, but a raw, developing space, it clung to the edges of Izuku's being like a stubborn weed, a flickering campfire against the pervasive chill. Around this tentative light stood a small, unassuming Japanese house, its paper screens glowing with inexplicable warmth. The air, though still metallic, carried the faint, comforting scent of hearth smoke and freshly cooked food—a jarring, defiant pocket of ordinary life amidst the King of Curses' ancient malice.
From the small Japanese inn, a man emerged, his face a portrait of irritation. He moved with a stiff, hurried gait, his pink, wavy hair slightly disheveled. His features were sharp, his brow furrowed in a permanent scowl that made him seem perpetually angry. He wore a simple kimono, but the fabric seemed to strain with his impatient both Izuku and the other man approached the coiled convergence of their souls; they simply stared, analyzing each other.
Finally, Izuku broke the silence. "So, you're my twin, Wasuke Itadori. I thought that it would be the brat's father, but it does make sense. I reappeared right after my twin died, I didn't know the curse of twins had a taste for irony."
Wasuke's face contorted in a sneer, a flash of frustration in his eyes. He threw his arms up in exasperation. "Took you long enough, didn't it? And how the hell do you know my name?"
Sukuna simply sighed, his expression unreadable. "I've read through all of our grandson's memories, remember?"
"Oh, you did, did you?" Wasuke snapped, his voice dangerously low, but with a hint of concern. "Good for you. Now that we've established you're not a complete idiot, can we get to the point? This is important."
Izuku simply looked at Wasuke as he continued, "Fine then. Why are you not in a different body, and why did you suddenly appear now?"
IT'S BECAUSE YOUR STUPID QUIRK WOULDN'T MANIFEST!" Wasuke bellowed, his voice echoing in the vast space. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. "And you call yourself the King of Curses? You'd think a genius like you would've figured out why you couldn't use your own power."
The tattooed man's face contorted in both confusion and in frustration. "What do you mean?"
"Did you ever notice you were unable to use cursed energy and your cursed technique?"
"I have," Sukuna mused, placing a hand on his chin. "I tried to use my slashes to perfectly cut vegetables for the stew I made moth—I mean, Inko—but they never appeared."
"That's because you hadn't developed your Quirk yet," Wasuke growled, his voice still tense. "Since we were transported into this world, our abilities had to accommodate its rules. Remember when you read about Quirks in that book at Inko's house?"
Izuku nodded. "Quirks start to manifest in children around four years old."
"EXACTLY!" Wasuke yelled, throwing his hands up again. "You may be a walking encyclopedia of useless information, but at least you remember the important stuff. Since your Quirk, Cursed Energy, only just manifested, my soul couldn't speak. I was just stuck listening to you ramble to yourself for the past four years!"
Izuku nodded in understanding, then a realization struck him. "What do you mean 'my Quirk Cursed Energy'? What happened to my slashes?"
"Are you serious right now?" Wasuke's voice was filled with disbelief. "Your abilities are too complicated to be a single Quirk! From my understanding, this world's universe gave your Cursed Technique to me, and you were given Cursed Energy. That's why you were the only one in the pilot seat this whole time."
Wasuke gestured towards Izuku's domain. "You probably noticed that your domain has an air of malice?"
"My soul has always had malice in it," Ryomen replied blankly.
"Now, that malice represents the Cursed Energy we can use. Now, as for my soul, observe its domain. Notice how you can smell the taste of Katsudon."
Izuku nodded. "You're saying that the cooking represents Shrine?"
"Bingo! But I don't know why I even asked. It's not like you can use it anyway." Wasuke then said, "Now, watch this." Wasuke performed the same motion as Izuku, and a small slash materialized, leaving a thin cut on the surprised red-eyed twin's cheek.
"See?" Wasuke smirked, placing his hands on his hips. "That was only a small cut because I wasn't able to use cursed energy."
Ryomen Sukuna lunged, grabbing Wasuke by his kimono. "What was that for, you little bastard?!"
Wasuke, undaunted, met his enraged gaze with a placid stare. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, but after everything you did to my grandson, you deserved to taste a bit of his suffering."
The older twin released his grip. "If you ever do that again, I'll make you wish I ate you in the womb," Sukuna snarled.
Wasuke stared back, unflinching. "Fine. But do you understand it now?"
Izuku looked down at Wasuke, a conflicted understanding dawning in his eyes. He said nothing.
"What now?" Izuku asked, his voice low and full of confusion.
"Hmmmm."
"Now that we finally have our powers, what do we do with them?" Sukuna gazed at his hand, conflicted. "Should I go back to being a malicious being, spreading carnage, or should I try to live a mundane life?"
Wasuke's face went from frustrated to furious. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING ME THAT?! YOU FOUGHT YUJI, AND YOU LOST BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID, SELFISH REASONS! ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO GO BACK TO THAT?!" Wasuke then took a deep, frustrated breath, trying to calm down.
"Look," Wasuke said, his voice calmer but still raw with frustration. "I'm not saying that you have to be a hero, but you have to live a different life. You need to choose a different path. Shouldn't you be reborn not as a selfish villain, but as a selfless hero? Besides, what else are we going to do, take over the world with our pathetic powers?"
Izuku paused. Despite Wasuke's attitude, he had made a compelling point. He was reincarnated to take a different path. Perhaps this path led to heroism. Still, he questioned, "How can Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, the Fallen One, ever hope to become a hero?"
"THAT'S WHY YOU GOT ME!" Wasuke said with an arrogant grin. "If Yuji got his smarts from me, then he also got his selflessness from me too."
Izuku, momentarily shocked that Wasuke had just called himself an idiot due to Yuji being a moron, allowed a small smile to surface. "You're unbearably naive."
"Well, I was just born today!" Wasuke retorted.
Izuku then thought over everything Wasuke had said. "Well, I guess if this is where my path leads me." He extended his hand to his little brother, declaring, "Let's become heroes, Wasuke."
Wasuke raised his hand towards Izuku, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Wasuke was my old name. Now it's Wasuke Midoriya! …Actually, since we both got kicked out of the house, it's just Wasuke."
As the twins shook hands, Wasuke responded, "Let's become heroes, Ryomen Sukuna."
Izuku grinned. "Ryomen Sukuna was my past life. Call me Izuku."