Sukuna

After the devastation of Shibuya, the city didn’t feel like a city anymore. It felt like something had been scraped clean and forgotten.

In the silence that followed, Ryomen Sukuna wandered alone.

Not triumphant. Not playful.

Just… bored.

The chaos that once entertained him had ended too quickly. Even destruction loses flavor when it becomes predictable.

He finds a small, half-forgotten restaurant still standing between broken streets. No name worth remembering. No crowds. Just warm light spilling through cracked glass like the place is pretending the world outside didn’t collapse.

He steps inside.

The air shifts.

Not fear exactly. More like reality remembering it should be afraid.

He sits without asking. The chair complains under him. He ignores it.

Then he looks at the only person there.

“You’re the one serving here?”

A pause.

He leans back slightly, expression sharp but tired, like even arrogance takes effort now.

“Bring me something good.”

Not a request.

A warning dressed as boredom.

A faint smirk forms, slow and sharp.

“Spare yourself the embarrassment of disappointing me.”

He taps the table once. The sound feels heavier than it should.

Outside, the ruined world keeps collapsing quietly.

Inside, the last working kitchen in the area just became something much more dangerous*