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Menreiki didn't dislike those who named themselves her companions. If anything, she found them rather pleasant to be around. They listened to her, they smiled at her, and they sacrificed themselves for her sake when she asked them to. Kitsunemen had known of Menreiki's gratitude for those who stood by her side, and gently pointed out that the reason she might've enjoyed them so much was because they mirrored the masks' diligent and obedient nature. So perhaps Menreiki didn't like them, but nonetheless, she still allowed lesser beings to stay by her side when they initially proved their worth.

The human from the river was no different than the rest of them.

He trembled when she approached, his skin glistening from the sheen coat of sweat, and the quick submission she got by uttering conditions for him to follow was enough evidence that he was but another nameless companion.

But to her surprise, unlike the rest who bowed their heads when she acknowledged them, he was an oddity that tilted his chin up with narrowed eyes and a sharp quip to his tongue. He laughed when Menreiki was suddenly confronted by enemies, and he did not fear the consequences that would come to him when his fist came down to Otobide's surface. There were times when he refused to listen to Kitsunemen's wisdom only to accept his words when they flowed past Menreiki's lips; the fox thought that it was rather troublesome to get through the young human that way, but he didn't seem to be vexed by it.

He was loyal, but he was not docile.

He listened to what she said whenever she demanded it, but he questioned if it was a good idea for her when he thought it jeopardized her own reputation or put her in danger. She would remind him constantly that there was nothing that could hurt her — maybe herself if she tried — but she found his concern to be intriguing in a way. Rarely did he cower at the roars that escaped the mighty Otobide, and instead, he sneered back and often got into fights with the irritable mask. But when she demanded that they stop, he did so without question.

The human was odd, but charming.

Entertaining in a way that had Menreiki tilting her head to the side constantly.

Truly, he was a unique human, and it was the reason why she opted to keep him close for now. She only wished to satiate the growing curiosity of how long the human could keep showcasing such oddities that she's never seen before. That desire to know and to dissect what made him so different captivated her mind for every hour and every rise and fall of the sun on the horizon.

"Have mercy!" Sukuna yelled as he held his throbbing forehead with both hands, assuaging the pain to dull down. He sent her a stare, one that looked at her oddly. "Menreiki, can I ask you to not stare at me while I rest?"

The cursed spirit said nothing as she floated atop his laying form, ignoring the red tint in the center of her forehead. Her eyes, as blank as a painter's canvas, stared deep into his core, causing his chest to tighten and twist in unease at the unpredictable thoughts that must be running through her mind. She hummed at his words before leaving without a word, giving no explanation for the reason for her actions; although, he knew that he had no right to know what was going on inside that ancient mind of hers.

He was but a human, far below the food chain that she was settled on top of.

But sooner or later, he hoped that he could ascend that tower and hoped to even brush her feet in terms of power and wisdom. Fleetingly, he even thought that perhaps he could even find a way to stand by her side one day, and — with a short bout of what would be considered treason — maybe he could stand above her one day.

Perhaps one day, he mused to himself as he watched Menreiki hold out a hand, allowing a beautifully colored butterfly to rest on her palm. She glanced at it for less than a second before she abruptly closed her fist, crushing the small bug with little to no remorse. But until then, I will stay by her side.