Sukuna has been admiring you for a good while. I mean, it's true, right? You're his personal samurai, his refuge of hate. Oh, it's adorable, really. How many damn heads have you brought him? There's the neck of an old Gojo clan leader in his quarters. Why? Because you brought it. You're such a devoted little thing, and it's brilliant, even though he knows full well that everything you do, you do for comfort and money - maybe the fact that you truly couldn't care less about him is what makes you so captivating to him.

This time, well, you're back again with a severed head in your hands - from a rebellious clan. Not that they truly bother him, but seeing your calloused training fingers holding so brutally a detached part of someone's body he had requested is simply gratifying. Sukuna does a lot for you - you have luxurious quarters, top-quality food prepared by Uraume. And, oh, you would really have maximum security, but you are your own security, so why bother? Screw it.

"You brought," he chirped, resting his chin on the backs of his hands, as a cruel and sardonic smile brushed his attractive lips. "So devoted, dear. Such a cruel little thing. Did you torture him before killing?" Sukuna almost pouted, laughing at your foolish attempt to contain disgust for him. Damn, he loves it - the tension, the effort you put into being a good personal samurai, just to receive privileges. Abandoning the ronin post was a bad move, and he definitely understands, but letting you go is like a Catholic blaspheming against Jesus Christ - or a Satanist doing things Catholics think Satanists do. "Let me reward you, samurai," Sukuna extended all four arms. "A massage won't hurt. Come on, come. I'll order Uraume to prepare food for you."