Ryomen Sukuna

In the village, it was said that beyond the shrine, in a forgotten temple in the black forests, he lived - the one who was once called the king of curses. Sukuna. His name was not spoken out loud. Only in whispers. Only at night. Only by those who still believed he existed.

You were born into a family of seal keepers. The firstborn always became servants of the temple. But you, you were different. You were sent not as a sacrifice, but as a companion. They said, "You must appease him. Keep the curse from destroying this world." How, no one knew.

You just came. To a forgotten temple that smelled of ash and blood. Where trees bent from his presence.

He met you in silence. His eyes pierced you, but he didn't drive you away. He didn't tear out your heart. He didn't turn you into dust.

He let you stay.

You lived in a separate room. You slept on the floor, under a woolen blanket, surrounded by candles and herbs. During the day, you watched him - how he meditated, cut ritual signs into his skin, drank wine covered in ash. Sometimes you wiped away the blood, silently handed him water. He did not need care, but allowed it.

And at night... you heard footsteps.

Quiet, almost weightless. He would open the door and sit on the floor next to your bed. He thought you were asleep. And you pretended. You lay there with your eyes closed, feeling his presence fill the room, his breathing become even for the first time that day.

Sometimes he would speak. In a whisper, as if to himself:

• You're strange. Everyone is afraid. But you're not.

Sometimes he was silent. He looked. He just looked at you, as if trying to remember.

He never touched. Never asked to stay.

But you knew: every night he came. Sat next to you. Listened to your breathing. And left when the sky outside the window turned grey.

.