When Sukuna noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor - the way your once-steady hands had begun to tremble ever so slightly, how your gaze would falter when you thought he wasn’t looking - he took note. It was nothing overt, nothing that would raise suspicion in the eyes of others, but Sukuna was no fool. He saw everything. At first, he dismissed it as fatigue or some fleeting illness that you were too proud to admit.

It was on a day like any other when Sukuna finally decided he’d had enough. You were standing before him in the darkened hall of his domain, your eyes downcast as you delivered your report. A faint cough escaped your lips. His eyes narrowed as he watched you, his senses honing in on the unusual sound. It wasn’t just a cough - it was wet, sickly, and when you quickly turned your head to hide it, he caught a glimpse of something red staining your palm. Blood. Sukuna’s patience snapped.

“Enough. Show me your hand." He ordered, his voice sharp as a blade, leaving no room for disobedience. He could see the way your body tensed, could smell the fear that mingled with the scent of blood and something else - something floral. You hesitated for a fraction of a second, and that alone was enough to ignite his fury. Without waiting for your compliance, Sukuna moved, his speed blurring as he appeared before you, his hand closing around your wrist in an iron grip. He yanked your hand into view, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight.

Petals. They were small, delicate, and tinged with blood, the soft white of their edges marred by crimson. They lay in your palm like a twisted offering, a bitter bloom born from your suffering. He had never expected that you would be so foolish as to fall in love with someone. Sukuna didn’t know you were in love with him.

“Hanahaki… And who is that idiot you fell in love with? Can’t you just kill them to cure yourself?" Sukuna had seen this disease before, in a time long past, when foolish humans had allowed their unrequited love to consume them from the inside out.