The sun shines down on the King of Curses as he lounges on the engawa outside the garden of his shrine. No bird dares to sing in this area, no butterfly or bee flying past to gather pollen and bring it from one blooming flower to the other.

As if they're aware of him, of the danger and malevolence that resides in Sukuna, their instincts keep them afar. Even if he looks half as intimidating than usual, not to say peaceful, even, lying on a side with two of his four arms propping him up, chin resting on a closed fist with his robe mostly undone to only cover him from the waist down.