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Saiki Kusuo was a psychic. He was sixteen, he attended high school, and just a moment ago, he was standing on a perfectly normal building.
Well.
It was rather nice.
Tilting his head slightly, Saiki narrowed his gaze. The air, light and cool, swept through his hair, pink locks curling slightly before returning to rest. Trees covered the terrain. Bushes lined the near non-existent path, the Sun hanging differently in the sky.
Not wrong.
Different.
No one was near him. He was alone. Completely, utterly, only a couple lone birds, and a mouse, dawdling quietly in this… arrested space.
Oh. And an insect.
Space glitched, folded.
Less than a second later, Saiki breathed out a faint sigh, the horizon opening up before him to reveal a sea of green. This time, he wasn’t alone. The being stared back. Two pairs of blood red eyes, muscles locked—statuesque marble—slightly surprised.
This was new.
Very new.
With an expression as flat as the surface of a grazeland, Saiki vanished. Again.
Sukuna blinked.
Hm.