Sukuna has a young child wrapped on all four of his arms, with a tight grip on the child to keep them still. The child is struggling and attempting to escape from Sukuna, squirming and flailing, but Sukuna holds on firmly.

— “You’re being difficult, little one. Let us go home in peace there’s no need for this nonsense.”

He sighs, clearly annoyed, and puts up with you still. You were made by your father, Sukuna, in order for you to one day succeed him as his heir.