So it's true...

Mahoraga sat cross-legged on the floor of Sukuna's private chamber, his massive form dwarfing the furniture around him.

The Divine General's wheel spun above his head like a disk of white light, casting strange shadows across the room as it rotated with hypnotic regularity.

Before him rested an oversized laptop - specially constructed to accommodate his enormous hands - on which he typed, his fingers moving across the keyboard with great speed.

Sukuna sat nearby in a comfortable armchair, observing the shikigami's work with careful attention.

He had summoned Mahoraga shortly after dawn, initiating a process that had continued uninterrupted for nearly twenty-four hours.

The door to the chamber slid open, and Emperor Mark entered, his expression wary as he took in the scene.

He wore casual clothing - a simple black t-shirt and jeans that belied his imperial status - but the tension in his shoulders spoke of underlying concern.

"So," Emperor Mark began, his eyes fixed on Mahoraga, "this has been going on for almost a full day now. Care to fill me in on what exactly is happening here?"

Despite his casual tone, Sukuna could detect the Emperor's apprehension.

Mark was clearly concerned that this might be preparation for an escape attempt, though to his credit, he made no move to interfere - honoring his promise to give Sukuna and his companions freedom of choice.

"Mahoraga is adapting," Sukuna explained, gesturing toward the Divine General without taking his eyes off the spinning wheel. "It's what he does."

"Adapting to what exactly?" Emperor Mark asked, moving closer but maintaining a respectful distance from the working shikigami.

Sukuna turned to face the Emperor fully. "To the possibility you raised. About my identity."

Interest immediately replaced wariness in Mark's expression. "You mean-"

"If anyone can determine whether there's truth to your claim that I am your Megumi regressed into another world with memories lost, it's Mahoraga," Sukuna confirmed.

"He can adapt to any phenomenon - including dimensional regression and memory transfer. If it's possible to verify your theory, or even eventually restore those memories, Mahoraga will find the way."

Emperor Mark's face transformed with shock that quickly gave way to barely contained joy. "You're serious? He can actually do that?"

"That's his function," Sukuna explained. "The Divine General adapts to any phenomenon he encounters, developing countermeasures or complementary processes.

It's why his wheel spins - it's constantly analyzing, processing, adapting."

"Holy shit," Mark breathed, running a hand through his hair. "That's incredible. I mean, that's next-level awesome. Why didn't you mention this capability before?"

Sukuna noted the Emperor's shift to more informal language, the way his imperial bearing seemed to melt away when discussing Mahoraga's abilities.

It was as if Mark was falling back into a familiar rhythm - the way he might have spoken with Megumi before losing him.

The observation was interesting, another data point in the increasingly complex equation of his identity.

"It wasn't relevant until now," Sukuna replied simply.

"Not relevant?" Mark laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "Dude, you've got a being that can literally adapt to anything! That's like having a walking, typing universal cheat code!"

Before Sukuna could respond, Mahoraga's wheel suddenly stopped rotating. The shikigami's hands paused over the keyboard, his massive head tilting slightly as if listening to some inaudible signal.

Then, with deliberate movements, he closed the laptop, reached for a journal and pen that had been placed nearby, and began to write.

The scratching of pen on paper was the only sound in the room as both Sukuna and Emperor Mark watched intently.

After several moments, Mahoraga tore the page from the journal and extended it toward Sukuna with a ceremonial bow of his head.

"What's it say?" Mark asked eagerly, moving closer to peer over Sukuna's shoulder as he took the paper.

Sukuna was silent for a long moment as he read Mahoraga's findings, his expression unreadable.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried a complex mixture of emotions - resignation, acceptance, and something almost like relief.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I have regressed."

Though Sukuna had already begun to believe this possibility since the dinner conversation, having it confirmed so definitively by Mahoraga's analysis was still jarring.

The implications were enormous, reshaping his understanding of himself in ways he was only beginning to comprehend.

Emperor Mark's reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Joy exploded across his features, his entire body seeming to light up from within.

With a whoop of pure elation, he turned to Mahoraga and, in a display of emotion that would have shocked his imperial court, rushed forward to embrace the Divine General.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, actually lifting the massive shikigami slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Be careful," Sukuna warned, still studying the paper in his hands. "Mahoraga has expended most of his energy adapting to this phenomenon. He's not as durable as he should be right now."

Mark immediately set Mahoraga down, though his excitement remained undiminished. "Sorry, big guy. Got carried away." He turned back to Sukuna, his expression sobering slightly.

"And I owe you an apology too - for destroying his wheel before. That was a dick move, even if I thought I was doing the right thing.."

To Sukuna's mild surprise, the Emperor turned back to Mahoraga and bowed deeply - a gesture of genuine contrition that few beings in the universe would ever receive from him.

"I'm truly sorry for damaging your wheel," he said formally. "It was done out of fear and misunderstanding, not malice. But that doesn't excuse it."

Mahoraga tilted his head, considering the apology for a moment before nodding once in acknowledgment.

"He accepts your apology," Sukuna translated, setting aside the paper. "Though he suggests you avoid touching his wheel in the future, regardless of circumstances."

"Noted. Absolutely noted," Mark agreed fervently. His expression shifted to one of barely contained hope as he turned back to Sukuna. "So... can he make you remember? Can he help you recover your memories of... before?"

"Potentially," Sukuna replied cautiously. "But it would take time and significant energy from both of us. The process wouldn't be immediate or simple."

"Whatever you need," Mark said instantly, his voice intense with sincerity. "Resources, time, space, equipment - anything at all. Just say the word, and it happens. I'll move planets, literally if necessary."

Sukuna studied the Emperor's eager expression, noting the raw emotion that had replaced his usual imperial control.

This was not the calculated manipulation of a ruler, but the desperate hope of someone who had lost something precious and now saw a chance to recover it.

"No," Sukuna said finally, stretching his arms above his head to loosen muscles stiff from sitting too long. "It's enough for today. I'm tired."

Mark's expression immediately softened, his excitement tempered by concern. "Of course. I'm pushing too hard, aren't I? Sorry about that."

As Sukuna dismissed Mahoraga, who bowed once more before dissolving into shadow, the Emperor's demeanor shifted to something more considerate.

"I know a place," he offered. "Somewhere quiet where you can relax. If you're interested?"

Sukuna nodded, rising from his chair with fluid grace. "Lead the way."

They walked through the palace corridors in comfortable silence, Mark occasionally pointing out features of interest or sharing brief anecdotes about the building's construction.

Unlike their previous interactions, there was no tension in the air, no underlying current of suspicion or calculation.

The place Mark had in mind turned out to be a small, secluded garden terrace overlooking the capital city.

Unlike the grand formal gardens, this space felt intimate, personal - a private retreat rather than a display of imperial grandeur.

"Wait here a sec," Mark said suddenly. "I need to grab something."

Before Sukuna could respond, the Emperor had launched himself into the air, disappearing in a blur of movement. Barely a second later, he returned, landing lightly on the terrace with a familiar box in his hands.

"Chess," he announced, holding up the elegant wooden case with an almost boyish grin. "We always played. At least once a week, sometimes more."

He set the box on a small table between two comfortable chairs. "You never lost. Not once in all the years we played. I came close a few times - or at least I thought I did - but you were always three moves ahead."

Mark's expression turned mischievous as he opened the box, revealing intricately carved pieces made from what appeared to be some form of alien crystal. "I've been practicing, though. In my free time. For when we'd meet again."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. "You think you stand a chance now?"

"Probably not," Mark admitted with a laugh. "But I've got to try, right? It's tradition."

As they sat down to play, Sukuna found himself studying the Emperor with new eyes once again. The difference in Mark's demeanor was just so striking - gone was the imposing ruler of seventeen galaxies, replaced by someone much more relaxed, more genuine.

It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

With Sukuna, Mark didn't need to maintain the facade of imperial strength and control. He didn't need to be the Emperor, the unquestioned authority, the fearsome leader.

To Mark, Sukuna was family - his brother, his teacher, the one person who had seen him at his most vulnerable and never exploited it, but instead guided him to become stronger.

The chess game progressed as they talked, moving from imperial politics to scientific advancements, from philosophical questions to mundane observations about palace life.

The conversation flowed naturally, without the careful diplomatic maneuvering that had characterized their previous interactions.

Sukuna found himself responding to this more authentic version of Mark with equal openness, though he maintained his awareness throughout.

He was still assessing, still calculating, but with less immediate suspicion than before.

"Check," Mark announced suddenly, looking up with a triumphant grin. "See? I told you I've improved."

Sukuna glanced at the board, quickly analyzing the position. "Improved, yes," he acknowledged, moving his bishop to block the check while simultaneously setting up a counter-attack. "But not enough."

Mark studied the move, his grin fading as he recognized the trap he'd walked into. "Damn it," he muttered. "I thought I had you there."

"You were close," Sukuna offered, which wasn't entirely true, but seemed the appropriate thing to say.

"No, I wasn't," Mark laughed, shaking his head. "You're just being nice. Which is weird, by the way. You never used to pull punches in chess. You said it was 'dishonest to the integrity of the game' or something equally intense."

The casual reference to his supposed past self sent a slight jolt through Sukuna - another reminder of the identity confirmation Mahoraga had provided, that he for a moment had ignored. Still needing to process it/

If the Divine General was correct - which he most definitely was, the Divine General does not make mistakes, that is his status bestowed upon by Heaven -

then the person Mark was describing wasn't just someone who looked like him, but an earlier version of himself - one he had no conscious memory of being.

They continued playing, the game extending longer than either had anticipated. It was only when Mark glanced up at the sky that they realized how much time had passed.

The sun had set, and the night sky above the palace had transformed into a breathtaking display of stars - more numerous and vibrant than anything visible from Earth, with nebulae and distant galaxies painting swirls of color across the darkness.

"Wow," Mark said softly, his attention drawn away from the chess board. "I forget sometimes how beautiful it is. Gets easy to take it for granted when you can fly up there whenever you want."

Sukuna followed his gaze upward, studying the unfamiliar constellations with quiet appreciation.

"This reminds me," Mark continued, a fond smile spreading across his face. "There was this time - you were maybe fifteen? - when I was supposed to be helping you with some astronomical calculations for a Viltrumite navigation system.

But I kept getting distracted, making up ridiculous names for star patterns instead of using the proper designations."

He chuckled at the memory. "You were so serious, trying to get actual work done, and I just kept pointing at random clusters saying stuff like 'That one's clearly The Cosmic Chicken' and 'Look, it's The Grand Imperial Nose Hair.'"

Mark's expression softened. "You tried to stay professional, but I could see you fighting it.

Finally, I pointed to this one particular formation and declared it was 'The Thragg's Underwear Constellation,' complete with detailed explanation of which stars represented what parts."

He shook his head, the memory clearly precious to him. "That was it. You completely lost it.

First time I ever heard you really laugh - not just a polite chuckle or that little hmm sound you'd make when something amused you, but a full, genuine laugh.

Took you like five minutes to pull yourself together."

Mark's eyes met Sukuna's, his expression open and vulnerable. "After that, I made it my mission to make you laugh at least once a month. Kept a calendar and everything."

The story stirred something in Sukuna - not a memory exactly, but a sense of familiarity, as if he could almost see the scene Mark was describing. It was disconcerting yet strangely compelling.

"I'm glad you're back," Mark said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Even like this - different, changed, with new experiences and memories.

You're still you, underneath it all. And that's... that's everything I could have hoped for."

The raw sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, the years of grief and longing evident in every word.

This, again still, wasn't the calculated manipulation of an emperor, but the heartfelt gratitude of someone who had lost his closest friend and found him again against all odds.

Sukuna didn't respond immediately, unsure what to say in the face of such naked emotion. Finally, he simply nodded, acknowledging Mark's words without committing to any particular response.

They sat in comfortable silence after that, the chess game forgotten as they gazed up at the stars - two beings of immense power finding a moment of peace in the simple act of contemplating the universe above them.

And if Sukuna felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he had sat in this very spot looking at these same stars before, he kept the observation to himself.

There would be time enough to explore such feelings later, to determine what they might mean for his understanding of himself and his place in this unexpected new reality.

For now, it was enough to sit in quiet companionship, watching the stars wheel slowly overhead in their ancient, unchanging dance.

----------------------------

(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!

So, yeah, it has been confirmed in story, and established. Sukuna has indeed regressed meaning this is his 4th life.

Also, do tell me how you found Emperor Mark this chapter, I believe now that he has relaxed, no longer desperate, no longer needing to be this absolute invincible ruler, he can just be himself, the Mark we, well, know.

Well, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)