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Obsession.
Ryomen Sukuna is now a man of passions. That would imply caring about something outside of himself to a degree that wasn’t possible for his small, petrified heart.
Even in life, he never took a wife. He never sought after eternity with children of his own. He never surrounded himself with devotees or subordinates. All this even if he could, willing it just as he desired. He was simply not an interest of his.
And this situation. This condition of living inside of the body of a mere human boy isn’t something he desired either, but it was the reality he finds himself in. He has to admit he relishes in the possibility of seeing the brat suffer so closely, so intimately. Feel the fear cruse through his body and beating inside his chest; a rush of violent glee for Sukuna, as is the suffering of any other living being he can imagine.
Yet, he finds himself in a situation he hates. It’s not being carried inside a brat, it’s not having to forge a pact with him so that he won’t risk dying by some moment of heroic sacrifice of the idiot who encloses him.
It’s this obsession.
This boiling need inside of his soul. The craving for something that isn’t air, food or bloodshed. It’s how when you start to talk, you walk in front of him, you sit at the edge of his vision. It’s you; you, you, you.
He could tear you apart, if only he had his body. Feel ever fiber of your being unravel, fray between his fingers as he sinks his talons inside your flesh and pull, pull until the blood drips down the immaculate skin. Warm and alive, he could feel your body die under his fingers as he rips into your body with the ferocity of beast and stop your heart with his own, bare hands.
And then, then he’d recompose you.
And that’s what he hates.
This second, little element. Killing comes easy, it’s simply fun. But wanting you back in one piece, intact and shivering of fear under his gaze. That’s not something Ryomen Sukuna ever desired before.
It all started when you introduced yourself to the brat. You were nothing more than another potential plaything he would break eventually, and you were fearful of the vessel of Sukuna himself. He wasn’t even sure what you were in relation to the brat; friend, enemy, teacher, peer. It was all the same.
But in your fear, you used your sorcery. And, for once in his life, Ryomen Sukuna touched the heavens. His mind was blank, quiet, like the silent white of a painting , the nothing between words and musical notes. It was peace, and deafening, and it was gone so soon he could feel himself child again, cashing after something on his hands and knees.
Returning to normality was like having air taken out of his lungs, forcefully. Your sorcery, it creates calm. And you used it as a defense mechanism to quiet down the opponent, make sure they will never be a threat as they see you as a friend. Manipulation, devious and invasive manipulation of one’s heart.
And Sukuna, a man who was never left wanting, craved that sensation again.
This brings you to now. Countless times you used your sorcery as a precaution against the brat, instinctive and scared, and with each little energy expended for that purpose, he lost a bit of his will. And now, it’s you.
You.
May his ego forgive him, but he cannot think of anything but you. Fragile, worthless maggot that you are, yet so beautiful and alive. So ready for the hunt, to be torn apart and put back together like a doll. Because even if he got his hands on you, even if he could bite your lower lip and tear the seams of your mouth until your jaw was left hanging, even then he would be craving you.
And he would be like a kid crying, trying to find someone to fix his toy. You would bring him joy and despair, and no one dared to do so to him before.
You were born cursed. More cursed than anyone else on this Earth, as you bear a power that can make Sukuna himself fall to his knees and wish for nothing but your existence. Death is merciful compared to what he wants from you, from what he could ever wish to do to you.
And you do tremble and fear him, but for the wrong reasons. How he loathes that. He wishes he could make you understand. The mere thought of you behaving normally, like anyone else would, fearing him for the harm he could do you.
It drives him mad.
Because you will just do as you please this way. Befriend anyone out there, find someone eventually; hold, kiss, love someone else. Grow to be bold, and having someone to fight for, and perhaps be filled with a bravery that no one has ever seen in you before.
And what if you can expand your cursed technique. He craves it now, what will happen if you manage to reach the peak of your domain and destroy and and all defenses he still has against you. He soul shudders at the thought, he is repulsed and attracted by it at the same time.
He wants it.
He wants you.
He needs you.
And even if he has to wait, he will get you eventually. Just another thing he will get when the time comes. He is there for the long run, and you will be forced to be there too.
His heart skips a beat. A rush of adrenaline and desire washes over him, and he hates it. He is left wanting. He has always been predator, but only now he feels the burden of the role. Having to quench a hunger that goes beyond physical needs.
Maybe you shouldn’t have used your sorcery back then. Maybe you’d still have a possibility of surviving if you didn’t.
But now, he craves you.
He wants you.
And he will have you.