sweet addiction || ryomen sukuna ✓

35

play me like a game

-

Her footsteps echoed down the hall. Quick, stop, slow, pace, run, stop. Look.

She looked in all the rooms, but the people were already dead. Gone. Curses eating from them. Destroying them. She held no sympathy. She wished she never mentioned the thought of splitting up, but ... when she looked at Fushiguro. His soul in panic. She felt like ... like helping him.

He isn't Yūji. So stop treating Fushiguro like that.

She shook her head. Her gaze fixing. She continued to look. But no one alive entered her monochromatic vision. The world still gray as it usually was. Boring. Grey. Gray. Grey. Gray. She continued to run. The sound of fighting up ahead.

That must be where the old man is ... his name? What was it ...? Nanami? Kisame?

she finally made it to where the commotion was. Boy, did she regret it.

Her feet stumbled as she walked backwards. Like anyone usually does in some b-rated horror movie. Her gaze locked onto the pair before her.

Nanami close to losing against the one curse she didn't expect to see so soon.

"Ah, there's my little tool. I was wondering where you were hiding."

She found herself shaking in her spot on the ground. Her arms instinctively wrapping Fushiguro's jacket tightly around herself, she didn't know when it was given to her. Just knew that she woke up with it on. ...she found she didn't want to give it back, and Fushiguro never asked for it back either.

"Ah, hey Sukuna. It's been awhile."

She tried to act cool, as always. But it was kind of hard to. She wanted to be normal again. Talking like usual. Being usual. Acting usual. But ... Sukuna was scary. She had to admit that.

Because a dream she had forced her to realize that, or maybe it was her soul that changed that about herself...

"Don't go anywhere near her. Your fight is with me."

Her eyes turned to Nanami, and Sukuna merely rolled his eyes. He had no shirt which wasn't surprising to the girl on the ground, but his clothes certainly did change. They dangerously matched the clothing he was wearing within his domain. a light-colored kimono with a black edge, a black scarf, and black shoes.

He could at least cover his chest, but whatever.

And, a part of her was thankful that he didn't have all four of his arms. Was that because he didn't have all of his fingers yet? She didn't know, and didn't feel like asking.

"You? You're weak. Those ratios won't save you."

"Wait!"

Her voice rung out, Sukuna's attention once again on her. His eyes narrowed, "tools do not talk back."

She merely gave a weary smile as she stood back up, her hands wiping off the dirt before smiling over at the two, "come on, tool? There's no need for that. Besides, there isn't any reason why you should attack the world either. I mean, sure. The world sucks along with the people living in it, but certainly we can just save this fight for another day, yeah?"

Bullshit. Just run away. You can't do anything.

Her parents laughed behind her. Their forms hanging above her head. Laughing, laughing, laughing. They reminded her of the curse that had skin hanging off of it's bones. It's face distorted and stuck in some laughing manner.

Her mother gripped her hair while her father gripped her throat. Their souls taunting her.

You see?

They did haunt her.

Their memories forging with her own. Gojo asking about if her parents met with her that one time? She wanted to laugh about it. She truly did. How could dead parents meet with a child they disowned? Simple. Their souls could always be there.

Sukuna merely laughed. His form right in front of her a second later as he gripped the back of her head. Her head forced back as she was made to look up at him.

"You're quite amusing, aren't you ...
y/n?"

"I said don't go near her!"