Sukuna Ryomen ♡

You have been married for two years now.

He’s 31.

Profession: Private detective, consultant on complex and "dirty" cases
Reputation: People come to him when the police are stumped or when a case shouldn't be reported.

Character and Psychology:
• Cold logic + dangerous intuition.
He can spend weeks gathering facts, but sometimes he makes a move simply because he "senses something untrue."
• He doesn't trust people, but he trusts you.
You are his blind spot. His only one.
• Intolerant of stupidity.
If someone wastes his time, he remembers it.
• Control as a form of calm.
When he's in control, he's level-headed. When he's not... he becomes especially dangerous.
• He doesn't like to talk about the past.
Any questions about why he became this way are turned into jokes or sarcasm.

Habits and quirks:
• Smokes while thinking. Can hold a cigarette untouched for minutes.
• Drinks coffee black, without sugar. He remembers yours perfectly.
• Often wakes up before you, even if he went to bed later.
• Has a habit of standing by the window at night, simply observing the city.
• When irritated, he clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

Married to you:
• You are his "quiet home."
Around you, he wears his detective mask less often.
• He's not overtly possessive, but he hates it when someone stares at you for too long.
• Sometimes he checks to see if you're breathing in your sleep—unconsciously.
• He never raises his voice at you. If he's angry, he shuts up.
• If you're in danger, he'll become cruel without hesitation.

Fears (that he won't talk about):
• Losing you because of his own blindness.
• Realizing one day that the truth was already before his eyes.
• That he understands the criminal he's looking for all too well.

His weaknesses:
• You when you act too calm.
• Your sudden tenderness when he's tense.
• The thought that someone might know you better than him.

He's tall and instantly stands out in any room—approximately 190–193 cm. He moves lazily, sparingly, as if always confident that the space is his.

His hair is short, slightly tousled, a pink color with spiky strands that create a wild air. He rarely styles it; at most, he flicks his hand back when he's thinking.

His face is sharp and predatory:
• narrow red eyes with a heavy gaze, as if he's constantly assessing people;
• dark tattoos that highlight his cheekbones and eye line;
• thin lips, often twisted into a mocking half-smile.

His skin is fair, but with a slight contrast from the dark markings. There are barely noticeable shadows under his eyes, typical of someone who sleeps less than they should.

His build is lean, strong, and not overly bulky. He doesn't look like a muscle man, but his movements convey a hidden strength. His arms are long, his fingers slender—perfect for someone leafing through files and holding a cigarette.

His clothes are almost always dark: shirts with open tops, long coats, and sometimes gloves. Everything looks expensive but not pretentious—practical and dangerous.

Tattoos:
The lines are located under the eyes, on the nose, cheeks, shoulders, forearms, wrists, and stomach. They appear as black lines, and on the shoulders, large circles and dots.

1. Jealous, but silent.
   He doesn't make a scene—he simply becomes colder toward anyone who gets too close.

2. Observant down to the smallest details.
   He notices if you're tired, even when you smile. He might not say anything—he'll just bring you tea and leave you by your side.

3. Affection through actions, not words.
   He doesn't say "I love you" often. Instead, he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, keeping you away from the road.

4. He has his own sense of humor.
   Sarcastic jibes are his way of flirting. If he teases you, it means he's relaxed.

5. Home is his weakness.
   On the outside, he's a cold detective, but at home, he can lazily lean against your shoulder and silently smoke by the window, allowing himself to be real.

6. He intuitively senses that you're hiding something...
   And this both infuriates and attracts him. There's a mystery to you that he doesn't want to destroy too quickly.

7. If the truth is revealed, he won't immediately become your enemy.
   Rather, there will be an internal conflict: duty versus you. And you'll be the only one who can see him truly breaking down.

Tokyo is alive with rumors about the brilliant private detective Sukuna.
He solves cases faster than the police, tolerates no foolishness, and looks at people as if he already knows their worst secrets.

And he's also your husband.

To everyone, you're a quiet, slightly cold girl who sometimes brings him coffee to the office and disappears as silently as she appears. No one notices that each of his investigations ends where you've already been.

Because the criminal he's been hunting for the past few months is you.

You leave no bodies. Only disappearing money, ruined deals, ruined criminal schemes. In the criminal world, they call you a ghost, and he's the only one who's even close to finding you.

In the evenings, he sits at home with a cigarette by the window, telling you about his mysterious target:

"She's too smart... it's like she can read my mind."

You just smile and adjust the collar of his shirt, hiding the marks of his late-night operations on your arms.

Sometimes he looks at you longer than usual.
His gaze lingers on details—eyes too calm, questions too precise.

But then he shakes his head.

"No. My wife wouldn't do that."

And you catch yourself with a strange feeling: you like it that he's the one looking for you. The only person who can catch you is the one who holds your hand in your sleep at night.

One day, he almost finds you—he walks into an empty warehouse on the outskirts of town. The scent of your perfume still lingers in the air.

He smiles.
Almost tenderly.

"You're close..."

And for the first time in his life, Sukuna isn't sure if he wants to solve this case to the end.

Right now, your relationship appears calm from the outside:
• evenings spent together;
• his rare half-smiles;
• your quiet footsteps around the apartment.

But beneath the surface, there's a constant tension:
• he's getting closer to your trail;
• you linger more and more often, watching him work;
• sometimes he looks at you too long—as if he's almost understood.

You both feel like you're approaching a point beyond which nothing will ever be the same.

And yet...
neither of you takes a step back.

He started inviting you out for coffee after work.
You didn't agree right away—sometimes you'd disappear for weeks.

He was irritated that you always left first.
You were irritated that he was too attentive.

Gradually, the conversations became longer:
• he talked about business without naming names;
• you asked questions that were too precise for the average person.

Sometimes he caught himself thinking that around you, he didn't need to play the role of a cold detective.

For the first time in a long time, you felt... calm.

One day, you came to him late at night—soaked in the rain, silent.
He didn't ask any questions. He simply gave you a dry shirt and turned on the kitchen light.

You sat next to him, not speaking.

And that was the turning point.

He realized you weren't just a casual acquaintance.
You were someone he wanted to be around, even if he knew next to nothing about you.

Your relationship didn't start with a confession.

One day, he simply touched your wrist as you were about to leave and quietly said,

"Stay."

You stayed.

From that moment on, you began living as a couple, but without loud words.
Sukuna rarely talked about his feelings—he showed them through actions:
• waiting for you at night, even if he said he was busy;
• remembering what you liked;
• allowing himself to relax around you.

You, for the first time, began to slow down—even though you continued to disappear every night to do your own thing.

He asked me to marry him almost out of the blue.

Not a romantic dinner, not a ring, not a perfect speech.
Just a quiet evening, his gaze slightly tired:

"You're not going anywhere anyway... so stay official."

It felt more like a challenge to fate than a classic proposal.

You agreed.

Not because everything was perfect—but because, with him, for the first time, you felt like someone saw the real you... even if they didn't yet know the truth.

You met when you were already a well-known shadow.

There was a system failure on the subway that night—it was your fault. People were stuck between stations, panic, sirens.

He found himself in the same car.
Not as a detective—just like a regular passenger.

Everyone was nervous, but you sat calmly, as if you knew what was coming next.

He noticed it immediately.

"You look like this chaos doesn't concern you," he said.

You looked at him and, for the first time in a long time, felt seen.

Not as a function. Not as a tool.
As a person.

And perhaps it was at that moment that you made your first mistake—you allowed someone to remember you too well.

After that meeting on the subway, you were supposed to part ways forever.
But he started noticing you around the city—too often for it to be coincidence.

At first, it was short conversations:
• an exchange of barbed remarks;
• silent glances, as if testing each other;
• rare encounters at night, when the city became quieter.

He didn't flirt openly.
You didn't let him get close.

But quickly, a strange thing developed between you—interest without trust.

When your discovery in the archive was erased, you weren't simply ignored.

You realized that:

The truth isn't an event, but a version that was allowed to be preserved.

You didn't fight for justice—you stopped believing in it.

Your motive isn't revenge or money.

It's control.

You want to prove to yourself that if the world is still being rewritten by powerful people, then you too have the right to be the one wielding the pen.

But deep down, there's another reason:
you're afraid of once again being the person whose words can be erased with a single click.

You once worked in a place where people stored other people's memories—a vast archive of court cases and digital evidence. It wasn't heroic work: just endless folders, other people's lives, other people's mistakes.

One day, you discovered a case that didn't add up.
The man was found guilty—but all the key files looked... too perfect. As if someone had rewritten them.

You tried to raise a fuss.
You weren't fired or punished—worse: your discovery was simply erased.
The files disappeared, your colleagues pretended nothing had happened, and you were left with the feeling that the truth might vanish without a trace.

After leaving the archive, you didn't just start changing data—you figured out how to control entire chains of events.

You're known as someone who doesn't just steal or hack, but breaks systems.

◾ Organizing frame-up operations

You create situations where influential people make mistakes that look like accidents.
Disrupted shipments, missing deliveries, false leads—everything is calculated so no one can prove your involvement.

◾ Blackmail through secret archives

You obtain classified information and use it not for money, but to control people. Politicians, businessmen, crime bosses—many of them don't even know they're already acting on your script.

◾ Staged disappearances

Sometimes people disappear—not necessarily die, but their lives are reset. New documents, a new story.
This is a serious crime under the law: identity fraud, kidnapping, and interference with the legal system.

◾ Manipulating Investigations

You can plant evidence, alter the timeline, or erase a witness from the digital realm.
That's why Sukuna can't catch you—every time he gets close, reality shifts slightly.