Chapter Text
The bathroom floor was slick with water, an unseen danger waiting for its victim. Your foot slipped out from under you, and for a split second, you felt weightless, hanging in the air. Then gravity took over.
Your body lurched backward, and you instinctively reached out, but there was nothing to grab onto. The next sensation was a sharp impact at the very base of your skull, just above the neck. The faucet, cold and unforgiving, caught you at the most vulnerable spot. Pain shot through your head like an electric current, and in that brief moment, your vision blurred, your world spinning out of control.
Then came the second impact.
Your shoulders slammed against the elevated part of the floor, your body landing awkwardly, half on the lower floor and half on the higher section. The back of your head remained elevated as if your body was suspended in some twisted position, still reeling from the shock of the fall.
You tried to breathe, but the pain was too much. A strange wetness started to spread across the back of your neck. It was warm at first, and then cold as it pooled on the tile. You couldn’t see it, but you knew. You could feel the blood trickling from the wound, a steady flow that didn't seem to stop.
The world around you began to dim, and nausea churned in your stomach. There was a ringing in your ears, a dull hum that drowned out everything else. You weren't sure if you were still awake or if you were fading into unconsciousness. Your mind fought to stay alert, but it was a losing battle. Darkness began to creep in from the edges of your vision, and your head throbbed with each passing second.
Time became meaningless. Was it minutes? Seconds? You couldn’t tell. Every nerve in your body screamed in pain, but it was the overwhelming pressure in your head that dominated your senses. You felt disoriented, lost in a fog of pain and confusion.
Then, without warning, your stomach rebelled. The nausea, which had been simmering beneath the surface, surged violently. Your body convulsed, forcing you to vomit. The act itself was excruciating, sending fresh waves of agony through your head and neck. You coughed, sputtered, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
Blood continued to flow, warm and relentless. You knew you were in danger, but your body was betraying you, growing weaker by the second. Your thoughts became hazy, fragmented. Part of you wanted to fight, to get up, to call for help. But another part, the part that was exhausted and broken, just wanted to close your eyes and let the pain stop.
And so, you lay there, on the cold, wet floor, the sound of your labored breathing filling the room. The faucet had done its damage, and now it was just a matter of time. You wondered if someone would find you, if help would come before it was too late. But even that thought began to slip away as the darkness finally claimed you.
All that remained was silence.
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Sukuna returned home from work earlier than usual. His sharp instincts picking up on something unsettling the moment he stepped through the door.
The house was quiet, far too quiet.
The sound of water running steadily from the bathroom caught his attention, and a subtle chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong. He didn’t know why he knew this, but years of military service had sharpened his senses to the point where he could detect danger without any tangible signs.
Without wasting a second, he moved with purpose toward the bathroom, his heartbeat steady despite the growing concern gnawing at him. As he approached, his mind raced with possibilities, but he kept his emotions in check. He needed to stay calm, to be ready for anything.
Pushing the door open, the sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. You were lying on the floor, motionless, with a towel barely covering your body. The water from the faucet continued to flow, creating a surreal, almost nightmarish backdrop to the scene. Blood had pooled beneath your head, and your skin had taken on an alarming pallor.
But Sukuna, trained to remain composed in the most terrifying situations, immediately focused on what needed to be done. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands move to check your pulse.
It was faint. But was still there. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. You were unconscious, but alive.
"Stay with me," he muttered under his breath, as if you could hear him.
His eyes quickly assessed the wound at the back of your head, the source of the blood that had soaked into the tiles. He knew time was critical. Without hesitation, Sukuna reached for a nearby cloth and pressed it gently but firmly against the wound to staunch the bleeding. His hands, steady from years of experience, worked with precision as he applied pressure, while his mind is calculating the next steps.
But first, he needed to ensure you were safe and comfortable. Moving swiftly, he clothed you, covering your fragile form to protect you from the cold and preserve your dignity. He lifted you carefully, cradling you in his arms, and despite the tension in the air, his movements were gentle, as if afraid that any sudden jolt might worsen your condition.
Sukuna carried you out of the bathroom, his mind racing through medical knowledge and contingency plans. He placed you gently in the passenger seat of the car. As he slammed the door shut, he glanced at you, noting your pale face, and swore silently under his breath.
He slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the gearshift into place as he accelerated out of the driveway. The once tranquil night was now a blur of headlights and taillights, and Sukuna’s frustration mounted with every slow-moving vehicle in front of him.
“Damn it, move it! Can’t you see there’s an emergency here?” he muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he swerved around a particularly sluggish car. He let out a string of curses as he cut off another driver who had dared to dawdle.
Despite the tension, Sukuna's outward demeanor remained the epitome of calm and control.
Or so he thought.
His eyes flicked between you and the road, every maneuver calculated and precise. “Hold on, we’re almost there,” he said more to himself than to you, his voice taut with frustration but steady.
Another car cut in front of him, and Sukuna’s patience snapped. “Seriously?! Are you trying to f***ing kill us?!” he roared, his temper flaring as he maneuvered around the obstruction with an almost reckless abandon. “I swear, if you don’t move, I’ll—”
The scene outside was a chaotic mess of headlights and taillights, and Sukuna’s driving was a desperate attempt to escape a warzone. Every inch of progress felt like dodging enemy's fire, every delay a potential threat to your safety. It was as if he was once again navigating through the perils of a battlefield, this time with you as his injured comrade.
His heart pounded with each passing moment, but his face remained an unreadable mask of focus. “Just a bit longer,” he murmured, his gaze shifting back to you. “Hang in there.”
As he finally spotted the hospital in the distance, he let out a controlled sigh of relief.
“We’re almost there,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension.
He threw the car into park and bolted out, rushing around to your side. With a grim but composed look, he lifted you into his arms once more, moving with the urgency and precision of a soldier racing to get his comrade to safety.
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At the hospital, the chaos of the drive was replaced by the critical need to get you the care you needed. The moment Sukuna burst through the doors, his authoritative presence immediately commanded attention. He was a force of nature, a commanding officer in a battlefield of chaos.
The staff, nurses, and doctors froze, their eyes widened in shock at the formidable figure storming into the emergency room. Even the other patients felt the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere. Sukuna’s aura was like a powerful storm, his presence a force that demanded respect and immediate action.
“Trauma unit—now!” Sukuna’s voice was a low, authoritative growl, slicing through the chaos of the emergency room.
The staff, momentarily stunned, quickly regained their composure and scrambled into action.
“We’re on it, Sir,” one of the doctors managed to say, trying to hide the tremor in their voice. The medical staff immediately shifted their focus to you as they wheeled you into emergency care.
Sukuna’s gaze was steely and unrelenting. “Full evaluation, ASAP. Blood work, scans—everything. I want results immediately. If you need anything, you let me know. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” came the quick, unanimous reply, tinged with apprehension. The urgency of your condition was clear, but it was Sukuna’s overpowering presence that left them scrambling to meet his demands.
As the medical team hustled to comply, Sukuna’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression masked a controlled worry. His commanding presence had cut through the hospital’s usual hustle, making it clear that this situation was a matter of utmost importance. Though the logical part of his mind knew that you were in good hands now, that he had done everything he could, but the emotional part, the part of him that loved you more than anything, was a storm of worry, fear, and hope.
He stood outside the operating room, silent and still, replaying the events in his mind. His training had taught him to remain calm in crises, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of you lying there, vulnerable and bleeding. After the emergency room staff quickly assessed your critical condition, you were swiftly transferred to the operating room for urgent surgery.
Despite the gnawing fear, he held on to the belief that you would survive. You were strong, and so was he. Together, you’d make it through this.
Several hours later, a doctor approached with evident unease. His gaze flickered nervously towards Sukuna, who stood like an imposing figure, his presence commanding and formidable.
The doctor cleared his throat, his voice strained. “Your partner is... stable,” he said, trying to maintain a professional demeanor despite the palpable tension.
“The situation was critical, but she'd made it through the worst. With proper care and time, recovery is likely. However, due to the severity of the injury affecting the head and spine, there is a possibility of partial loss of mobility.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. “Partial loss of mobility?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. The room seemed to tighten under his gaze, and the doctor’s unease became even more apparent.
“Yes, there is a risk,” the doctor said quickly, his voice wavering. “The head and spine injuries are severe, and there might be lasting effects on movement.”
Sukuna’s gaze bore into the doctor, his eyes cold and unyielding. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance she might not walk again?”
The doctor swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. “It’s a possibility. We’ll need to assess her recovery over time to determine the extent of the damage.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and his eyes remained fixed on the doctor. “I expect you to do everything in your power to ensure she has the best chance of recovery. Understand?”
The doctor nodded quickly, his voice almost a whisper. “O-of course. We’ll do everything we can. I assure you.”
Sukuna’s intense gaze bore into the doctor. “I need to see her,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
The doctor hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. “Y-yes, of course,” he said quickly, avoiding direct eye contact. “R-right this w-way.”
As they walked to your room, the doctor’s pace was hurried, his body language betraying his apprehension. He opened the door with a slight bow, his movements careful and deferential.
"Here she is," the poor doctor gestured.
With a curt nod, Sukuna brushed past the doctor and entered your room. He approached your bedside with the same intense focus he always carried. Today, however, there was a rare softness in his eyes. He sat down beside you, gently taking your hand in his.
“You’re still here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re alive. I knew you would be. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
You remained unconscious, but Sukuna’s presence was unwavering. His eyes stayed locked on your face, a silent vigil in the dim light of the room. He would stay by your side, just as he always had, watching over you until you woke up.
For now, Sukuna was calm, knowing that you were safe. But a silent vow echoed in his mind: he’d never let anything like this happen again. You were his world, and he would protect you at all costs.