𝓝𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻 [r.sukuna]

5.Ryōmen Sukuna

(A/N: before you read the chapter you need to know that I headcanon **spoiler for anime only** that Itadori and Sukuna would look alike evens if Itadori wasn't the vessel, because in the manga someone somewhere (I think it was the brain) stated that Itadori was born to be the perfect vessel for Sukuna, meaning he was probably made to suit him in the best way possible. Also this is just an headcanon and also makes my life easier.)

He rushed her towards the kitchen counter in her small apartment. After the old hag, the kid and fuck up face passed away, she had no reason to keep living in Rikubetsu.

Rikubetsu was known to be the coldest town in Japan, she always hated cold, but living in Hokkaido she had to come to terms with it and reached a point where she didn't mind.

Shinzo two years ago decided to move to Sapporo and started attending university there, she didn't take in consideration that Sukuna hated crumped spaces.

He despised them, she basically lived in a box: one room where she watched tv, cooked and ate, another room where she slept and studied and the bathroom.

He went through every drawer he could see in order to find a needle and some thread, anything could do. Ugh, humans are so weak he huffed continuing to make a mess of the room.

'Found them!'

He approached the Raven haired girl, sprawled all over the counter, meanwhile she seemed to have regained some level of  awareness.

"N-no, you can't do that without cleaning and disinfecting the wound." She flinched while she instructed.

"Oh good you're awake, can't you just do this shit?" he offered her thread and needle with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Yeah of course, I'll just grow two more arms on my back so I can meticulously sew my back back together! Oh wait I probably need another head...how did you do that? Can you tell me your secret?!" she sardonically remarked, irritation building up inside her while she tried to talk some common sense into the demon and still having to deal with pain.

He clicked his tongue, ready to argue, but decided against it. She looked pale as a sheet.

He stalked through the room, heading towards the bathroom and going straight for the cabinet, where she didn't have shit.

'Just fucking great'

He hurried back to her, annoyance clear in his crimson gaze and by the way he tapped his foot and picked at his sharp nails.

"You have no alcohol in the cabinet, what now?"

She gave him a look that pointed towards the alcoholic drinks stash, she was fucking crazy, but he just went with it, did so for 10 years.

He offered her a sip from a really strong liquor, muttering something like 'so that your weak ass won't feel so much pain', she appreciated it.

Well until he came to hit her in the neck and made her pass out again. Rude.

He poured the liquor all over her hurt back, he was dying to take a sip of it, he missed alcohol, but he couldn't drink nor eat in this stupid spirit form.

After the wound was disinfected he got to work.
He could do that, seen her do that so many times, she was even attending med school, she saw her practicing with that curve needle and a sponge like thing. Yes he could, he could do anything (or anyone) he put is mind to.

So why were his hands shaking, he wouldn't care anyway if she died, he told himself.
'weather she lives or die it doesn't matter to me', yes he kept repeating himself that line, no the shaking didn't stop.