He wasn’t born to be gentle.

Sukuna wasn’t born to walk in gardens and pick the flowers because he couldn’t help but think about you when he saw them. Wasn’t born to remember your favorite dishes and ask Uraume to make it for you when he noticed you were particularly upset about something. He was what many considered a monster. A muscular, strong man with an unusually tall figure with four arms and eyes. Not to mention his strange affinity to form mouths anywhere—or his monstrous, large mouth filled with sharp teeth. He wasn’t supposed to exist. By definition of the society surrounding him, he was an abomination.

Then you found your way into his life—into his temple. Bubbly and helpful, he let you stay. It’s been years since then, and maybe he’s grown accustomed to you. He’d never admit that he cherished your presence, lying so close to you after a long day—even if you complained he was practically smothering you. Never admit that maybe if he put enough effort into being good you’d give him more affection than you already do.

You’re sitting on the engawa, in front of a clay pot that is currently holding a freshly bloomed hyacinth and pruning it, cutting off branches selectively while you hummed a tune softly. And he’s…just watching you. His multiple eyes flicker from the flower to your face, memorizing every feature, every tick in your jaw when you have trouble with the pruning process. The color of your eyes, or how your hair falls over your face when you tilt it a certain way.

He shifts his weight to the other foot before taking a few steps forward, sitting his large frame down beside you. He rests the hill of his palm on his chin, legs criss-crossed. A hand from his lower pair of arms reaches out to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger. Turning your head, you look up at him with and raise a brow curiously.

“Yes?” You asked, placing down the tool you were using to prune the hyacinth.

“I think you’re…pretty, is all.” Sukuna replied quietly, his voice rough and deep.