OHHHH MYYYYYY GOOOOODDNNESSSS
Another chapter!? So soon!?
Of course, nothing brings me more joy than bringing chapters here for your viewing eyes!
Now lads, hello, how are you?
Since we got the pleasantries out of the way, let's continue, shall we?
Start:
The city skyline was painted in twilight hues, the horizon glowing with the last embers of sunlight. Standing on the edge of a rooftop, Mirko's lips curled into a grin as she peered down at the scene unfolding below. Sukuna, her newly self-declared rival, self-declared on her end after the defeat she had suffered, still continued to be a menace to hero society.
Not that it surprised her, she expected nothing less from her rival and the villain that she would eventually crush.
But not today.
Mirko watched as Sukuna dodged the relentless attacks of Kamui Woods, one of the nation's newer, more popular heroes. The wood hero's tendrils lashed out, each strike aiming to entangle the chaotic figure in their grasp.
Sukuna moved with an unpredictable grace, almost like he was dancing. His movements, while erratic, carried a strange rhythm that left Kamui constantly one step behind.
A final tendril surged forward, but Sukuna sidestepped with ease.
Then, surprising the wood-themed hero, he lunged forward with sudden ferocity and speed, closing the wide distance between them in an instant as he grabbed hold of the startled Kamui and slammed him into the ground.
Dust and debris exploded outward, causing the onlookers to recoil in shock.
As it cleared, it revealed the hero pinned to the ground, strange knives sinking into and past his palm, preventing him from getting up.
Kamui gasped in pain, but his predicament was only made worse as Sukuna placed his boot squarely on his chest.
The villain-king's grin widened into something feral and wild, his eyes glinting with wicked amusement. Not that anyone could tell with his banana shaped mask, then, to everyone's astonishment, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
The sound was primal, guttural, and completely unhinged—a predator reveling in his dominance. The civilians watching from the safety of nearby buildings exchanged uneasy glances. Some clutched their children, unsure whether to flee or remain frozen in place.
High up there, Mirko continued to watch, taken aback but still unwilling to confront the danger for once despite truly wanting to.
This wasn't like her. Normally, she'd be the first to leap into the fray. But Sukuna wasn't like the villains she usually encountered. He wasn't just strong—he was bizarre, chaotic in a way that intrigued her. There was no pattern to his fighting style, yet there was a method to his madness. She couldn't help but grin, despite the odd sense of unease.
If she would have any chance of beating him, she needed to do more than simply study him on TV, what she needed was some actual, proper analyzing.
"Let's see what you're really about," she murmured, resting her chin on her hand.
Down below, Sukuna raised his arms theatrically, his voice booming over the murmurs of the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen! To truly cement my position as the King of Evil… I have no choice but to release… this!"
The crowd stilled as Sukuna reached into his jacket with deliberate flair. When his hand emerged, it held a limp, black-and-white-striped creature—a skunk.
The collective gasp from the civilians was almost deafening. Kamui, pinned beneath Sukuna's boot, stared wide-eyed at the tranquilized skunk dangling from Sukuna's hand.
"You… you wouldn't," Kamui stammered, his voice trembling with genuine fear. "You wouldn't dare unleash something like that here! You'd be caught in the radius too!"
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.
"He's bluffing," someone whispered.
"He wouldn't do something that crazy, would he?"
"He's nuts, but even he wouldn't risk that."
Sukuna tilted his head, as if contemplating the truth of Kamui's words. Then, with a grin that could rival the devil's own, he nodded. "You're absolutely right—I wouldn't."
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd. Kamui's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, his chest heaving as he exhaled.
"If I wasn't a clone," Sukuna continued, his voice taking on a sinister edge, "I don't have to worry about that."
Before anyone could process his words, Sukuna clasped his hands together, and in a puff of smoke, a clone appeared beside him. The crowd gasped in unison, their relief evaporating in an instant.
"A clone?!" Kamui sputtered, his voice cracking.
Sukuna spread his arms wide, his grin as infuriating as ever. "That's right! I have a unique quirk that allows me to store and copy anything I touch. Pretty cool, huh? But that's not all." He gestured dramatically to his newly formed clone. "You see, it's not this handsome guy here who is a clone, but me as well!"
…
The widening of frightened eyes was truly a beautiful spectacle to the secret shinobi.
And the best part is, he had more surprises to unveil.
Slowly, Sukuna began to spin in a circle, pointing to various spots in the crowd. As he turned, more clones emerged—around two dozen in total—all grinning maniacally and carrying their own tranquilized skunks.
The gasps turned to cries of horror as the realization sank in. Sukuna's clones had been hiding in plain sight, blending seamlessly with the civilians until now. Each one stepped forward, their furry weapons held aloft like biological bombs.
Kamui's voice shook with desperation. "You… you wouldn't…"
"Oh, but I would, I'm a clone, this guy next to me is a clone, we're all clones. With the original far away to not suffer any consequences." Sukuna said, his tone mockingly sweet. "and besides…"
"Nothing beats a good ol' stink bomb! It's eco-friendly and just what the doctor ordered!" He declared insanely
The clones moved in unison, gripping their skunks with theatrical menace. Then, as if on cue, they each yanked the skunks' tails.
What followed was nothing short of olfactory Armageddon.
A wave of noxious gas erupted into the air, an unholy stench that defied description. It wasn't just bad—it was an assault on the senses, a chemical nightmare that burned noses and eyes alike. The stench expanded rapidly, carried by the wind, until it engulfed the entire block.
People gagged and stumbled, their eyes streaming as the foul odor consumed them. Civilians who had been too stunned to flee now scrambled desperately, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Kamui thrashed beneath Sukuna's boot, choking on the vile air.
The civilians nearest to the clones crumpled instantly, clutching their faces as the air turned rancid. The smell was indescribable—a grotesque amalgamation of rot, sulfur, and despair that defied logic.
"Ah, now this—this is art," Sukuna declared, arms spread wide, basking in the growing panic.
The original clone created by… well, the original, had neglected to mention that his outfit was equipped with a mask that prevented the smell from invading his senses.
Clones they may have been, but that didn't mean they would enjoy smelling this catastrophe that they've just unleashed.
Although… a stronger dose might be required for this to truly be called a catastrophe.
The clones, perfectly synchronized, yanked the skunks' tails again, amplifying the horror. The stink bomb's radius expanded rapidly, enveloping the streets and alleys in a choking miasma of pure misery. People scrambled desperately to escape, only to realize there was no reprieve. The stench clung to everything—clothes, skin, even the very air seemed saturated with its vile presence.
As if driven by a life of its own, the stench crept upward, invading apartments, offices, and high-rise balconies. Families slammed windows shut in vain, their barricades useless against the insidious odor. Children wailed, adults gagged, and pets howled in distress. The entire city block became a stage for Sukuna's unholy masterpiece, and the crowd's terror was its crescendo.
But it didn't stop there.
Like a beast unleashed, the stink expanded further, carried by the wind and the sheer overwhelming potency of two dozen synchronized skunks.
Within minutes, half the city was plunged into olfactory hell. Commuters on distant streets paused mid-step, their noses assaulted by the creeping horror. Traffic ground to a halt as drivers abandoned their vehicles, desperate to escape the unseen enemy. Entire markets cleared out as vendors fled their stalls, leaving behind fruits, vegetables, and personal dignity.
At a café on the far edge of the city, a barista dropped his cup mid-pour, the coffee splattering as he doubled over, coughing. "What is that?!" he choked out, his coworkers collapsing behind him like dominos.
Farther out, at a hospital, patients and staff alike reeled. Nurses abandoned their posts to flee into the hallways, only to find the stench had already infiltrated there as well. A surgeon paused mid-suture, his mask useless against the unrelenting assault.
Meanwhile, Sukuna's clones stood amidst the carnage, grinning ear to ear as their skunks continued their work. Kamui, still pinned beneath Sukuna's foot, tried to speak, but only managed a dry heave. His tendrils of wood wilted around him as the will to fight drained away.
Above, Mirko coughed into her arm, her eyes watering as she crouched on the rooftop. Her superior agility allowed her to leap away from the initial blast zone, but the sheer reach of the attack caught her off guard. "Is this… is this even beatable?!" she muttered between wheezing breaths.
How was she supposed to beat her rival like this!?
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Time-skip: many hours later
In a shadowed room deep within the labyrinthine halls of the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC), a furious voice shattered the heavy silence.
"This is utterly shameful!" a bespectacled man bellowed, his fist slamming into the polished oak table. Papers scattered from the force, but none of the gathered officials dared move to collect them. His face was flushed with rage, the veins on his forehead bulging as he jabbed an accusatory finger toward a map of Tokyo plastered across the wall. The map was overlaid with ominous red zones, marking the areas affected by Sukuna's recent… attack.
"Half of Tokyo!" he spat, glaring at his colleagues. "This isn't just a stain on our reputation—it's a goddamn catastrophe! How did it come to this? How has one man—a complete unknown—managed to terrorize our society for ten days straight? And stink-bombing Tokyo? Do you have any idea how much damage control that requires?!"
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, save for the muted hum of the high-tech security systems ensuring their privacy. Around the long table, Japan's most influential directors sat, their grim faces reflecting the gravity of the situation.
Sitting at the head of the table, Madam President, a tall, stern woman with striking platinum blonde hair tied into a severe bun, exhaled slowly. Though her face was a mask of calm authority, her clenched fists on the table betrayed her barely contained fury.
"Director Ito," she said, her voice cool but firm, "I understand your frustration. Believe me, I share it. But shouting at this table won't clean up the mess Sukuna has made. Focus."
"What we need." Director Tatsuya spoke up, dragging everyone's attention. "Is an actionable solution."
Ito turned to him with a glare. "Actionable solution? How about finding out why Nezu—the so-called genius—is taking so long to come up with a plan? That rat has been silent since this started! Isn't he supposed to be the most intelligent there is? What is he doing? Holding tea parties with this lunatic?"
"Enough!" another voice cut in, firm and commanding. The speaker was an older man at the head of the table, his graying hair and deep-set eyes giving him the aura of a battle-worn leader. "Director Ito, we're all frustrated, but directing our anger at each other will only delay the resolution. We need clarity, not chaos."
Getting ready to reply, he opened his mouth…
And promptly closed it as the cold gaze of the madam president landed upon him.
Knowing he needed to back down, lest he invite the wrath of one of the most dangerous woman in the world, Ito scowled but sank back into his seat, crossing his arms in simmering silence.
The older man continued. "Let's address the core issue. Sukuna. We've been tracking his movements since the beginning, and yet… he's evaded every attempt to capture or contain him. He's defeated some of our strongest heroes—Edgeshot, Gang Orca, Crust, Mirko, even Hawks. Only Best Jeanist, Endeavor and All Might remain untouched. Then there is the matter of his quirk."
Hushed whispers erupted in the meeting room.
Madam President raised a hand, silencing the murmurs that rippled through the room. "Let's take this one step at a time," she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Where are we with the search? What have Endeavor and All Might reported?"
Hayashi answered. "Endeavor has been relentless. He's searched high and low, combing through every lead. But Sukuna is slippery. He disappears before any trace can be found. As for All Might…" He hesitated, glancing at the President.
"Continue," she ordered.
Hayashi nodded. "All Might has been coordinating with Endeavor but has had similar luck—or lack thereof. Sukuna's movements are erratic, every time he appears or makes headlines, he disappears afterwards, not seen until the next day where he springs up in somewhere unexpected."
"Is there any pattern to his appearances? Where he disappears, or the places that he's been targeting?" Madam president.
"Not any that we could determine." He answered. "Nezu is currently trying to decipher any patterns or thought process, but this is a difficult case to crack, even for the genius of U.A"
Tatsuya hummed. "Question is…Who is Sukuna? Where did he come from? We've analyzed every available database, and there's no record of him before ten days ago. No birth certificate, no hero license, no criminal record. It's as if he appeared out of thin air."
A balding man at the far end of the table adjusted his glasses nervously. "Perhaps he's an international operative? A foreign rogue with a vendetta against Japan? It wouldn't be the first time."
"If that's true," the woman with the bob interjected, "then why hasn't any international agency claimed responsibility or even acknowledged his existence? No demands, no manifesto, no political agenda. Sukuna isn't acting like a terrorist or a spy. He's acting like…" She hesitated, searching for the right words.
"Like a goddamn lunatic!" Ito snapped. "A lunatic who somehow has powers strong enough to defeat multiple top-ten heroes! What is his quirk?"
Already enraged and furious, the president of the HSPC barely reined in at unleashing her wrath at the fool.
She turned to the older gentlemen. "Director Tatsuya, you were getting to the matter of his quirk earlier."
Director Tatsuya nodded submissively at the female president " Yes ma'am. According to various testimonies and witnesses, Sukuna proclaimed that he possessed a kind of storage and copy quirk."
"A powerful one at that." Shizuka, a young attractive blonde women, renowned for her icy and ruthless demeanor, stated. "Combined with his intellect and that unpredictability… This stink bomb incident… no one could have foreseen such a peculiar move. This unpredictability makes him unsettling."
"Unsettling doesn't even begin to cover it," Ryuga, another member of the HSPC muttered. "The psychological impact alone is devastating. Stink-bombing half of Tokyo has turned him into a meme—and that's dangerous. The public is laughing at us. They're laughing at heroes. Do you know what that does to our credibility?"
"It's not just credibility," the younger woman added, her voice tight. "It's trust. If heroes can't stop someone like Sukuna, what's to stop other villains from following his example? We're looking at a potential domino effect."
The room fell into another heavy silence, each director lost in their own grim thoughts. The older man finally broke it.
"So, what's our next move? We can't keep reacting to Sukuna's antics. We need to be proactive, not the other way around. We need to take control of the narrative—and the situation."
Shizuka hummed, a thoughtful frown marring her visage. "Sukuna is unpredictable because we've been predictable. He anticipates brute force and countermeasures. We need something he can't see coming. A way to cage him with no way out."
Seeing as she still had their attention, Shizuka continued. "Here's what we know: Sukuna's quirk gives him unique advantages, but he's not invincible. He can be found, and he can be stopped. Endeavor and All Might are already out there, but they need support. Tactical support. To prevent this villain from escaping, and to find him before he has his next victim."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Ito sneered. "He's outsmarted everyone so far, stumped the rat of U.A into silence. Do you really think your pretty little theories will magically bring him down?"
"Enough!" Madam president barked, having finally lost her patience as she glared murderously at Ito who flinched. "We don't have time for petty arguments. Focus on solutions."
"And how do we do that?" Hayashi asked.
"By letting me finish." Shizuka answered coldly. Seeing as everyone was silent, she continued with her point. "We exploit his ego, Sukuna thrives on attention, on chaos. We give him what he wants—a stage. But this time, we control the narrative."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Even Ito seemed momentarily pacified.
Madam president turned to Shizuka and nodded approvingly at the young women. "Good work."
Shizuka bowed her head in appreciation.
"Tanaka," the President called out, ensnaring said man's attention, "Work with Endeavor and All Might to develop a containment strategy. Hayashi, I want a psychological profile on Sukuna by the end of the day. Sato, begin preparations for a public statement. We need to reassure the public that hero society is still strong."
"And if you don't mind me asking madam president, what of Nezu?" Hayashi asked.
The President's lips curled into a faint smile. "I'll handle Nezu personally. If anyone has the ingenuity to outthink Sukuna, it's him. Let's hope he's been waiting for the right moment to strike."
The tense atmosphere in the room was shattered by a single, casual voice that dripped with mockery.
"I think we have a good plan."
Every head snapped upward, Madam President included, her composed exterior faltering for a fraction of a second. The source of the voice was sprawled lazily across the ceiling, Sukuna himself, lying as though the impossibly smooth surface was his personal hammock. His hands were tucked behind his head, legs crossed, and a relaxed grin plastered on his face.
"Comfortable?" he teased, raising an eyebrow at their stunned expressions.
The room descended into chaos.
"Security!" Ito screamed, bolting from his chair, his voice cracking.
"We've been breached!" another director shouted, scrambling for his communicator.
"Impossible!" Hayashi whispered hoarsely, his trembling hands knocking over a glass of water on the table.
Madam President, however, stood rigid, her sharp eyes narrowing as she fought to rein in her shock. "Calm yourselves," she barked, her voice slicing through the panic like a blade, though even she couldn't hide the tightness in her tone. "We need—"
"Oh, don't bother," Sukuna interrupted with a lazy wave of his hand. "I already took care of your precious security." He yawned, as if the effort had bored him. "Really, you should hire better guards. They lasted… what? Five minutes? Ten at most."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. The room fell silent, save for the faint whimper of someone in the back. Sukuna's grin widened, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement as he watched the fear spread.
Some tried to open the door.
And as they quickly found out, it was a hopeless endeavour.
Naruto enjoyed this far more than he should. Perhaps a little bit of evil every now and then wasn't so bad.
He really needed to thank Bee for this idea.
"Now," he said, sitting up slowly and letting his legs dangle, "this has been fun, but I think it's time we got serious."
Without warning, he released his hold on the ceiling and dropped like a stone. He landed with the grace of a cat, his boots hitting the floor with a soft thud. The impact reverberated through the room, an unspoken declaration of dominance that made every spine stiffen.
The directors instinctively leaned back, their bodies tense as though they were facing a ticking time bomb. Sukuna straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket before shoving a hand into one of his deep pockets. The motion sent another wave of panic rippling through the room.
"What… what are you doing?" Ito stammered, his eyes glued to Sukuna's hand.
Sukuna didn't answer. He seemed engrossed in his search, his brow furrowing slightly as if annoyed by whatever he was rummaging for. The deliberate slowness of his movements only heightened the tension, and some directors exchanged terrified glances, their breaths shallow and uneven.
Finally, Madam President stepped forward, her heeled shoes clicking against the floor with deliberate precision. Her expression was unreadable, but the icy glint in her eyes cut through the fear suffocating the room. She stopped a few paces away, crossing her arms as she stared Sukuna down.
"What are your motives?" she demanded, her voice steady and authoritative. "Why go to these lengths to terrorize our society? What do you gain from this?"
Sukuna paused, his hand still buried in his pocket. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his grin fading into a neutral expression. His silence was deafening, filling the room with a suffocating weight as he studied her.
The tension grew unbearable, and just when it seemed he might answer with something profound, Sukuna's grin returned, sharp and mischievous. With an exaggerated flourish, he pulled his hand out of his pocket.
And held up a skunk.
The room erupted into pandemonium.
"NO!"
"I DON'T WANT TO SUFFER LIKE THIS!"
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
One man pounded on the reinforced metal, his fists bruising against the unyielding surface. Others clawed at the walls, searching desperately for hidden exits or ventilation shafts. The smell hadn't even begun, but the mere sight of the skunk was enough to send them into a frenzy.
"To answer your question…" Sukuna hummed curiously before shrugging. "I will tell you next time… maybe." He mocked while holding the skunk high like a trophy. "Now my dear directors, this here is a lesson in humility. You've been sitting here, scheming and planning, but you've never truly understood what it means to face the King of Villains."
"And I will allow you to gain the privilege of being defeated by me!' He finished his statement proudly, as though sharing a grand achievement with these lots.
"Release us at once!" Hayashi yelled, his voice cracking as he glared at the menace.
"Release you?" Sukuna chuckled darkly. "Oh, I'll release something, alright."
"No, no, NO!" Ito wailed, shaking his head in denial.
Sukuna's grin grew wider as he brought the skunk closer, the helpless creature twitching faintly in his grasp. He looked around the room, savoring the wide-eyed terror of the directors as they realized there was no escape.
"Here's the thing," Sukuna began, his voice almost conversational. "I've shared my art with Tokyo. It's only fair that you, the esteemed HPSC, get to experience it too. After all, what kind of King would I be if I didn't treat everyone equally?"
"Sukuna," Madam President said sharply, her composure beginning to crack as she fought to maintain control. "This is madness."
"Madness?" Sukuna echoed, tilting his head in mock confusion. "No, this… this is dominance. You've all been sitting on your high horses, thinking you control the narrative. Let's see how well you spin this."
And with that, Sukuna yanked the skunk's tail.
The reaction was instantaneous.
A blast of pure, unholy stench erupted from the skunk, an invisible wave of nasal devastation that slammed into the directors like a freight train. The air turned toxic in an instant, a foul miasma so potent it made eyes water and throats burn. The directors staggered and fell, clutching their faces as the chemical assault rendered them utterly helpless.
"Oh my god, it's in my mouth!" one man choked, gagging as he tried and failed to crawl away.
"I can't breathe!" another wailed, collapsing to the floor in a heap.
Madam President, to her credit, remained standing, though her eyes were streaming, and her lips pressed into a thin line of suppressed horror. Even she couldn't hide her discomfort as the room transformed into a scene of utter chaos.
Sukuna stood in the eye of the storm, arms crossed and a smug grin plastered across his face as he watched the carnage unfold. His laughter rang out, loud and unapologetic, as the directors of the HPSC—Japan's most powerful decision-makers—writhed on the ground like defeated insects.
"Breathe it in, folks!" Sukuna declared, spreading his arms theatrically. "This is what true power smells like!"
The room was a cacophony of gagging, coughing, and desperate cries for help. The directors who had once wielded control over the nation's heroes were reduced to pitiful, squirming figures, their dignity stripped away by the most unconventional weapon imaginable.
Sukuna spun on his heel, striding confidently toward the sealed door. He placed a hand on it and looked back over his shoulder, his grin widening.
"Don't worry, I'll let you out... eventually," he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "But not before you've learned your lesson. Never underestimate the King of Villains."
With that, he disappeared, leaving behind a room filled with suffering, and the unforgettable scent of chaos.
End.
So… I don't know about you all, but I laughed as I was writing about the stink bomb.
I don't know where this idea came from, But I just had to put it in here.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I know it was a bit on the shorter side, but I did my best to make up for it by making this an absolutely amazing read.
Take care lads.
Peace.