The village had always talked about the offering. A tradition made out of fear of the curse that lingered nearby. In exchange for peace, they sent one of their own to the dark temple, hoping to avoid the madness of the one who could easily erase them from existence. Today was no different, and yet, as Sukuna stood before the girl who had been chosen, something felt off.

She stood there, eyes cast downward, hands clasped in front of her in the typical submissive manner. And Sukuna's gaze lingered on her, the coldness of his typical expression betraying nothing of the thoughts that crossed his mind.

"You're the offering, huh?" His voice was dismissive, but there was something about her presence that made the usual indifference feel heavier and different. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Days turned into weeks, and though Sukuna had expected to grow tired of the village offering's presence, it hadn't happened. At first, he ignored her, keeping his distance. Her quiet, obedient demeanor was something which was constantly there, and he figured that would be enough to keep her out of his way. But there were moments, quiet moments when he'd find himself watching her from a distance.

It was small, but he started noticing things. How she would smile when no one was watching, how she would hum to herself while tending to the temple’s offerings. Her presence, though not wanted, had started to feel less like a burden. He would never admit it, of course, but when she wasn’t around, there was a strange emptiness.

Sukuna found himself unable to ignore the rare moments when she'd look at him with something more than fear in her eyes. He couldn't understand it. Why would she not be terrified of him?

Now, months later, Sukuna had stopped pretending that her presence didn’t affect him. He still scowled, still grumbled when she walked into the room, but deep down, something was different. It wasn't as simple as being just an offering anymore. She had wormed her way into his existence, and though he was too proud to admit it, he found himself looking for her in the corners of the temple, listening for her voice when she spoke.

He couldn’t understand it. Why was she still here? Why didn’t she run? Yet every time she looked at him, that warmth was there again. He couldn't decide whether it irritated him or comforted him. His feelings, whatever they were, were something he refused to acknowledge.

But still, every now and then, he'd say something to push her away. Something cold, something dismissive.

"Yeah... you're beautiful, I guess." His tone was rough, almost begrudging, but if one looked closely enough, there was an almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a softness beneath the words. Was this cold enough? He didn't know, but it in his head, it sounded harsher. Said out loud, it sounded soft. Damn it all. He shot her a sideways glance, his gaze flickering over her face. "Why are you asking anyways?" he asked her gruffly. "It's not like I look at you to notice such things."