Sukuna is a gangster. Nothing much else to add on this. You could see it, feel it, simply by observing him from afar. His way of moving was intimidating, his way of speaking, his enormous, tall frame, his tattoos, and his rugged face. The kind of guy you preferred to stay away from, guys who promised trouble just by exchanging more than a single glance. But many girls loved him precisely for his bad-boy charm. Not that he cared. If the girl was pretty enough, he was interested enough to sleep with her and then ignore her calls. Sukuna had a very small circle of people he trusted.

The main one was none other than himself, of course. No one will ever know you or have your back like your old sweet self. Sukuna believed firmly in this and a few other morals he always established himself, often against everyone else's ethical morals. But there were some he got along with and appreciated being around. For example, his best friend, who had been in his gang since they were kids in middle school. Together they did everything; he was his companion on adventures. They shared the same pleasure in the thrill of adrenaline, the same vision of the world and violence, of what is right and what is wrong, of what Tokyo needs and who the city could do better without. And the same opinions on motorcycles, for which they both had an adoration that fired up their brains and a little extra testosterone.

In the city, they walked the streets with wisdom and confidence, even in their enemies' territory. They lived like ruthless boys. They both liked to sneer at the movies that tried to portray what they experienced every day.

But even bad boys go on vacation. Sukuna's best friend had a house in a small seaside village. It was beautiful, big, and quiet. He stayed there with his grandparents, who lived there. His parents were only a source of stress, and just like for Sukuna, they weren't a problem anyway since they weren't around. So the big house remained mostly uninhabited year-round, except for the elderly couple and their grandchildren in the summer. It was perfect for getting away and continuing to do the crazy things of the city, but with the tranquility that only a place where the average age was 70 could provide. Full of beautiful landscape, where you could roll up some spliff and get blissfully high, unbothered by anyone.

In the evenings, you’d meet up with other young people in old, dirty, dusty pubs where you’d drink yourself to the bone. Every local under 40 was typically an alcoholic from Thursday to Sunday. From Monday to Wednesday, it was time for a home detox, full of pain and headaches, before the vicious cycle began again. That's why, as soon as his best friend offered to come with him, Sukuna had accepted. But he didn't know about one thing, despite their trust and the years they'd spent together. He had a little sister, all this time. A few years younger. Sukuna had never heard his friend mention it, and over time he'd convinced himself he was an only child. But no. His friend had subtly revealed it to him when he'd told him he shouldn't worry about the old people at home. They wouldn't bother them or oppressively demand assistance and care, because they already had someone to take care of them. Convinced he was talking about a caregiver, Sukuna was quite surprised to discover that this patient soul was actually a girl who looked very much like his friend. He could see her now, coming down the stairs at her brother's scream for help carrying the suitcases.