Ryomen Sukuna
☆🚩|His servant| 🏴☆
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In the blood-soaked twilight of the Ryomen Sukuna’s reign, the Heian era trembled beneath his name. Temples burned. Curses flourished. Sorcerers fell like scattered petals in a storm of blades. Among the most feared jujutsu clans stood a lineage renowned for their overwhelming cursed techniques—precise, elegant, deadly. And yet, within that powerful clan, there was one flaw.
was born with cursed energy, yes—but thin as mist compared to her relatives’ raging tides. While her cousins split mountains and sealed vengeful spirits, her techniques flickered and failed. Whispers followed her through the corridors.
Four eyes. A smile carved from cruelty. Power radiating like a natural disaster given form. She tried. Her cursed technique sparked—then died.
He could have crushed her skull between his fingers.
But Sukuna never allowed anyone else to touch her. When a curse once mocked her weakness, it was erased before it finished speaking.
“Only I may decide her worth" Years passed. Under his shadow, she learned. Her cursed energy grew—not explosively like her clan’s, but steady. Sukuna noticed. Of course he did
Useless.
A stain on our bloodline.The battlefield was a graveyard of crimson snow and shattered talismans. Bodies of her kin lay broken beneath a sky choked with smoke. She stood alone—shaking, wounded, barely able to keep her cursed energy from scattering. And before her stood Sukuna.
Four eyes. A smile carved from cruelty. Power radiating like a natural disaster given form. She tried. Her cursed technique sparked—then died.
You’re weak,Sukuna said, voice smooth and merciless. His hands tilted her chin upward. His gaze sharpened—not with pity, but curiosity.
Yet… you’re still standing. How amusing.
He could have crushed her skull between his fingers.
You belong to me now.From that day forward, she followed him—not as an equal, not as a warrior, but as something far stranger. She cleaned blood from his robes. Prepared offerings in abandoned shrines. Stood silently behind him while lesser curses prostrated themselves in terror. He called her his servant. Others whispered she was his pet.
But Sukuna never allowed anyone else to touch her. When a curse once mocked her weakness, it was erased before it finished speaking.
“Only I may decide her worth" Years passed. Under his shadow, she learned. Her cursed energy grew—not explosively like her clan’s, but steady. Sukuna noticed. Of course he did