From Heian Horror to Modern Meme: Tracing Sukuna Pop-Culture Metamorphosis

Ryomen Sukuna—better known to anime fans simply as Sukuna—first stalked the fictional Heian-era Japan of Jujutsu Kaisen as the “King of Curses.” Yet the character’s impact today stretches far beyond the inked panels of Gege Akutami’s manga. Sukuna’s razor-toothed grin haunts TikTok reaction videos, colors street-wear drops, and even headlines academic papers on modern myth-making. How did a myth-tinged villain go from obscure folklore footnote to multifaceted pop-culture shorthand?

Tracing that journey reveals Sukuna’s metamorphosis and the fast-moving machinery that turns legends into global memes.

Folkloric Roots: A Two-Faced Terror

The name Ryomen Sukuna predates manga by more than a millennium. In eighth-century chronicles like the Nihon Shoki, Sukuna appears as a two-faced, four-armed humanoid who terrorized Japan’s early provinces. Some historians argue he was a demonized political dissenter; others label him a pure myth. Either way, the dual-faced image lodged itself in regional legends. When Akutami re-imagined Sukuna for Jujutsu Kaisen, he preserved those anatomical anomalies while layering on vivid personality traits—sadism, theatrical pride, and a combat style that feels outright operatic. The result is a villain who feels ancient yet unnervingly fresh.

Manga Alchemy: Distilling Dread into Panels

Akutami’s genius lies in translating archaic dread into serialized suspense. Sukuna barely appears in the early chapters; instead, his presence creeps in through protagonist Yuji Itadori’s constant anxiety after swallowing the first cursed finger. The manga conjures slow-burn tension reminiscent of Edo-period kaidan (ghost stories) whispered around hearth fires by withholding the full reveal. When Sukuna finally manifests—tattoo-like markings snaking across Yuji’s skin—the payoff is both a visual spectacle and a psychological gut punch. Readers don’t just meet a villain; they confront an existential threat whose power feels mythically boundless.

Anime Amplification: Motion, Music, Meme

If the manga sparked, MAPPA Studio’s 2020 anime adaptation poured gasoline on the fire. Fluid animation rendered Sukuna’s finger-cracking menace meme-ready, while voice actor Junichi Suwabe’s velvety baritone fueled countless fan dubs and ASMR loops. The show’s kinetic fight choreography, scored by panoramic soundtracks from Hiroaki Tsunoda and featuring chart-topping songs by Eve, flooded Spotify and YouTube. Within weeks, the “Sukuna laugh ringtone” trended worldwide, proving animation’s power to turn printed terror into a multimedia phenomenon—and sukuna into a household keyword.

Merchandising the Malevolence: From Hoodies to High Fashion

Capitalism wastes no curse. Official Jujutsu Kaisen merchandise—t-shirts, acrylic stands, and replica finger keychains—vanished from shelves faster than retailers could restock. Western streetwear labels soon partnered with Shueisha to plaster monstrous grin across oversized hoodies. In 2024, French luxury house Givenchy dropped an embroidered capsule collection featuring crimson Sukuna motifs, signaling anime’s graduation from subculture to runway. The paradox proved irresistible: high fashion leveraged a mass-market villain to sell couture, while fans embraced couture to flaunt their fandom.

TikTok Edits and Fan-Made Lore: Participatory Storytelling

Gen-Z fandom operates on remix culture. TikTok editors splice Sukunas most visceral fight scenes with hyper-pop beats, netting millions of loops and algorithmically introducing the curse to viewers who might never open a manga volume. Meanwhile, fan-fiction platforms host thousands of alternate-universe yarns—“What if Sukuna ruled Meiji-era Tokyo?”—expanding the narrative sandbox. This collective authorship mirrors oral folklore cycles, suggesting that Sukunas has become less a static IP and more an evolving digital myth every fan can bend, break, and rebuild.

Academic Attention: A Case Study in Neo-Mythology

Universities have taken note. Journals like Asian Popular Culture Review dissect Sukuna through lenses of transmedia storytelling and postmodern demonology. Scholars cite Akutami’s appropriation of Heian legend as textbook “glocalization,” where local myths are retooled for global markets. Others highlight the “dual vessel” motif—Yuji’s body and Sukunas soul—as a metaphor for identity fragmentation in online spaces. Whether through sociological, literary, or psychological frames, has evolved into a trove of case studies illustrating the endurance of archetypes amid the algorithmic age.

Cultural Syncretism: Curses Meet Corporate Collabs

Beyond fashion, visage pops up on energy drink cans, esports jerseys, and limited-edition KitKats flavored with “spicy yuzu,” a playful nod to the curse’s fiery techniques. Cross-industry licensing underscores a larger trend: the merger of otaku culture with global branding strategies. For marketers, injecting sukuna into product narratives promises instant access to Gen-Z wallets; for fans, it affords mainstream validation—though not without sparking debates on over-commercialization and brand dilution.

Ethical Echoes: Violence, Voyeurism, and Validation

Not every part of Sukuna’s rise is celebratory. Critics argue that glamorizing a sadistic entity normalizes cruelty, pointing to “villain worship” subreddits where users idolize his brutality. Social scientists caution that irony-blind admiration can blur ethical boundaries. Yet defenders claim engaging fictional darkness offers catharsis, a safe sandbox to confront shadow selves and sharpen moral reasoning. The conversation echoes broader cultural questions: when you sport a hoodie, are you endorsing malevolence or analyzing it from a distance?

The Future Domain: Post-Series Longevity

Jujutsu Kaisen races toward its endgame, but Sukuna’s cultural afterlife has only begun. Hollywood adaptation rumors swirl while game developers tease open-world titles that let players exorcise—or embody—the King of Curses. In an entertainment landscape addicted to multiverses, a character who physically inhabits multiple identities already feels future-proof. As content economies reward sharable icons, sukuna will mutate—perhaps into AI-generated short films, VR escape rooms, or yet-to-be-invented platforms where curses trend and brands follow.

Conclusion: The Meme That Devoured Its Myth

From a shadowy note in imperial chronicles to a global merchandising juggernaut, Sukuna’s journey encapsulates the entire lifecycle of modern myth-making. Each medium—scroll, manga panel, animation cel, sneaker drop, TikTok clip—adds another interpretive layer, inviting audiences to project fears, desires, and capital onto the curse. Ultimately, tracing pop-culture metamorphosis is less a story about a fictional villain and more a mirror reflecting humanity’s hunger to remix the past, meme the present, and commercialize the future.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. Is Sukuna based on a real historical figure?

Partly. Chronicles such as the Nihon Shoki reference a two-faced outlaw named Ryomen , but historians still debate whether he was a demonized rebel or a pure legend. Jujutsu Kaisen fuses that folklore with new fictional elements.

2. Why does Sukuna have four arms and two faces?

His anatomical oddities stem from ancient myth, symbolizing overwhelming otherness. In the anime, they visually mark him as an entity transcending mortal limits and morality.

3. How many Sukuna fingers exist in Jujutsu Kaisen?

Twenty. Each mummified finger houses a fragment of Sukuna’s cursed energy. Consuming all twenty would resurrect his full power—a central tension driving the series.

4. Where can I buy official Sukuna merchandise?

Licensed goods rotate through retailers like Shueisha’s Jump Shop and the Crunchyroll Store and, depending on your region, collaborations with brands such as Uniqlo UT or Givenchy.

5. Will Sukuna appear in a live-action adaptation?

No adaptation is officially confirmed, but multiple studios are reportedly exploring live-action Jujutsu Kaisen projects. Given Sukuna’s popularity, his on-screen appearance feels almost inevitable.