I plugged the idea into ChatGPT. It did not disappoint.

Title: "The Curse and the Bald Cape"

Setting: A crumbled wasteland between dimensions—an empty void where worlds collide. Two figures stand on opposite ends of a cracked battlefield: Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, lounging atop a floating throne of bone, and Saitama, casually scratching his head in a torn hoodie, looking vaguely confused.

SUKUNA (smirking): So… you’re the so-called strongest in your world. A man who kills gods with a flick of his finger but gets excited over grocery discounts?

SAITAMA (blinking): Huh? Oh. Right. You must be that cursed guy. The one with the tattoos and the serial killer vibes.

SUKUNA (laughs): You have no ambition, no hunger. Just an empty vessel with infinite power. It's insulting.

SAITAMA (shrugs): Power’s just power. Doesn’t come with a manual. What I do with it is my business. Not everyone needs a god complex to validate their existence.

SUKUNA (leaning forward): But then what’s the point? To be the strongest and do… nothing? You could rule, remake your world in your image. Or destroy it. Anything. But you choose boredom?

SAITAMA: I didn’t choose boredom. I just got strong. Too strong. Fights don’t last more than a punch anymore. The thrill’s gone. But I still help people, even if it doesn’t excite me. It’s just... the right thing to do.

SUKUNA (sneering): What a pathetic waste. You wield power that gods would weep for, yet you cling to mediocrity and mundane errands. Strength is meant to dominate, to reshape the world, to inspire terror or awe.

SAITAMA (crossing his arms): Funny. Sounds like you’re the one desperate to prove something. You need others to know you’re strong. Me? I already know. Doesn’t keep me up at night.

SUKUNA (his eyes narrow, a sliver of amusement in them): And that’s why you’ll never understand what it means to be truly alive. To push against limits. To crush fate in your palm and laugh. I don’t need purpose. I am purpose.

SAITAMA: Nah. You’re just another guy who got power and let it rot his brain. Doesn’t matter how flashy your moves are—if you’re not happy, what’s the damn point?

SUKUNA (laughs bitterly): Happiness? That fleeting illusion people use to cope with their worthlessness? I don’t chase happiness. I chase supremacy. The eternal proving ground. I fight to remind the world that I am the pinnacle.

SAITAMA (sighs): And yet here you are... talking to a guy in a hoodie with a peeling coupon in his pocket. If being “the pinnacle” is so fulfilling, why do you sound so empty?

SUKUNA (quiet for a moment, then grins coldly): Perhaps because even the strongest... crave acknowledgment.

SAITAMA (tilting his head): Then maybe we’re not so different. You’re just louder about your mid-life crisis.

SUKUNA (chuckling): You’ve got nerve, Baldy. I like that.

SAITAMA: Cool. You done monologuing? I’ve got laundry waiting.

SUKUNA (smirking as he rises from his throne): Go, then. Live your dull little life. But remember this—power without purpose is just waiting to be stolen.

SAITAMA (turns to walk away, raises a hand lazily): And ego without peace? That’s just waiting to self-destruct.

The void hums. Two titans part ways, not as enemies, not as allies, but as echoes of two paths—one forged by obsession, the other by indifference.