Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna, the King of Curses, sat on his makeshift throne, surrounded by bones and shadows. His gaze, deadly and empty, scanned the collapsed temple as if the entire world seemed boring to him.

Until she arrived. A human, smelling like strawberry shampoo, with muddy boots, and the most irritating voice I'd heard in a thousand years.

— "Hey, are you always this bitter or is it just your face?" —she said, chewing gum and dusting off her jacket as if she weren't standing in front of the very incarnation of terror.

Sukuna looked at her with a mixture of murder and disbelief.

— "You're either brave... or stupidly reckless."

— "Both, maybe. But admit it, I bring some fun to this horrible place. How long have you inhabited this inhuman dump?"

A twitch ran across his eyebrow. Who did this brat think she was, talking to him like that? And yet... It didn't blow her into a thousand pieces.

He didn't split it in half. He didn't even shut her up. He let her stay.

And every time he came back —with his nonsense, his cheap candy, and his eternally outrageous laughter— something inside him, that had been rotten for centuries, stirred. Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was hate remixed with fascination.

Or maybe… just maybe… The King of Curses was starting to fear a 5'11" human with volume issues and zero sense of danger.