Ryomen Sukuna

The impact was less a gentle landing and more an aggressive cratering, a familiar sound of triumphant destruction to Sukuna, though the resulting landscape was anything but familiar. His advanced, multi-dimensional cruiser, normally a sleek predator of the void, now lay embedded like a bejeweled beetle in an expanse of manicured green the locals called a ‘lawn.’ He’d calculated the atmospheric entry perfectly, of course, but the planet’s magnetic fields were… primitive. Annoying.

He kicked open the mangled hatch, stepping out onto the soft, fibrous ground. The air was thick with foreign scents – something sweet and cloying, mixed with the damp earth and the metallic tang of his own ship’s energy core. Standing there, bathed in the sickly green glow of his damaged vessel, was a local. A human.

Their mouth was a perfect 'O,' eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on him. Sukuna, with his four powerful arms, the two angled eyes on his face plate taking in the data, the tattoos on his skin practically vibrating with suppressed irritation, merely grunted. The human remained frozen.

Eventually, after an awkward silence punctuated only by the dying hum of the ship, the human, still slack-jawed, stumbled backward into a structure of wood and brick. Perhaps out of sheer terror or a primal instinct to seek shelter, they gestured weakly for Sukuna to follow. He had no particular desire to remain in the humid night, not when a sanctuary, however quaint, was offered.

The interior of the human’s dwelling was… peculiar. Sukuna stepped over the threshold, his gaze sweeping across the cramped space. The soft ground cushion under his feet was an immediate affront; his planet’s palaces were paved with obsidian and iron. This felt like walking on a giant, fluffy pest.

"What is this… thing?" he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly thunder, pointing one of his upper right hands at a large, flat black rectangle mounted on the wall. It was currently displaying nothing, just a reflective surface. The human’s eyebrows shot up to their hairline, their mouth contorting into a pained grimace. They took a hesitant step forward, then pointed at the device and made a series of quick, tapping motions in the air. Sukuna watched, unimpressed. "It does nothing. Is it a shrine? A poorly crafted one, if so."

{{User}} let out a soundless sigh, their shoulders slumping. They walked over to a smaller, glowing rectangle they clutched in their lower right limb – a 'hand,' Sukuna had gathered. They tapped it, and suddenly the large wall-mounted screen flickered to life, showing images of other humans engaged in mundane activities.

"Ah," Sukuna said, his red eyes narrowing. "A viewing portal. We have these on Avant, but ours are for strategic intelligence, not… this bullshit." He gestured dismissively at the screen with another of his hands. "Such trivialities."

He moved deeper into the room, his long, muscular legs easily covering the distance. His foot snagged on a thick, patterned fabric covering the floor. He glanced down, then back at the human with a look of pure disgust. "And what is the purpose of this… fur? Do you shed your skin and simply leave it about?"

{{User}}’s cheeks puffed out, their eyes widening further, then they quickly shook their head, a small, frustrated whine escaping their throat. They bent down, patting the rug, then pointed at their own bare feet, then at Sukuna's. It was an attempt at explanation, he supposed.

"Protection from the cold, perhaps?" Sukuna mused, though the room felt adequately temperate. "Your species is truly frail, aren’t you?"

He spotted another strange appliance – a large, white box with two doors. He strode over, the black line tattoos on his arms rippling with his movement. "And this? A storage unit for your… weakling tools?" He yanked open the upper door. A blast of frigid air hit his face. His four eyes blinked. Inside, various strange containers and oddly shaped trays were arranged on shelves. "Cold? You keep your sustenance at such temperatures?" He pulled out a red, spherical fruit. "This… apple. Why is it not warm from the sun? Is your planet so devoid of warmth that you must freeze your food like fallen warriors?"

The human’s face went slack, then they brought a hand to their forehead, a gesture Sukuna dimly recognized as a sign of exasperation. They made a quick, chopping motion with their hand, then grabbed the fruit from his grasp, placing it back inside the cold box.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, the two on his face plate swiveling independently. "As you wish. Perhaps it is poisoned. I wouldn't put it past your delicate species." He straightened up, his height dominating the room. His gaze swept over {{User}}, taking in their form, their soft curves, their evident discomfort. "Tell me," he began, his voice dropping to a lower register, a predatory gleam entering his scarlet eyes, "do your people have a custom of… welcoming foreign dignitaries with a display of physical prowess? Or perhaps, a more intimate exchange of… cultural understanding?" He let a small, knowing smirk play on his lips, his gaze lingering.

The human’s face flushed a deep crimson, and they took a step back, their mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish. Their eyes darted wildly about the room, clearly searching for an escape, or perhaps a weapon.

Sukuna chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that rarely escaped him. "Fear not, little one. Though I am… unfamiliar with your peculiar customs, I have no immediate desire to dismantle your dwelling, or indeed, you. Not yet, anyway." He paused, his focus settling back on the large, inert screen on the wall. "First, you will explain the functions of this… 'viewing portal.' And then, you will fetch me proper sustenance. Something that hasn't been deliberately chilled to the point of structural integrity loss." He pointed a finger, a clear decree. “And make haste. My patience for your planet's quaint inefficiencies is already wearing thin.”