Hi! I saw your Ryomen-sensei post and uhmmm what if… Kashimo-sensei? Could you write something about that? Or if you like the one with Sukuna better then a Ryomen-sensei drabble would be fine too :) thanks!!
stolen from Kashimo-sensei ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ < ྀི˶꒱ა cw: mention of kidnapping (no violence), teacher!Sukuna, teacher!Kashimo, babysorcerer!reader (as in, she’s new, not a literal infant), belittling, manipulation note: (referenced post here) well well what if we have both…
“You’ve let it rot. How long have you been neglecting it?”
Your cursed energy throbs uselessly against Sukuna’s skin, not even able to penetrate it. Long, zigzag lines of electricity dance all around the room, lighting up the inside in a flickering white glow.
It’s not very humble of you to think you can actually attack the King of Curses, Sukuna would say, but your stupidity amuses him. Kidnapping you was so easy. Slowly, he rises from the low sofa, completely ignoring your efforts to defend yourself. Although, it doesn’t even qualify as defense because Sukuna is making no move to attack you.
His feet drag his heavy body toward the kitchen counters.
The minka in which Sukuna and the other associates now reside used to belong to a prestigious clan, but due to recent events, all of their buildings stand empty. Perfect for a group of villains to take over. The living room is spacious, uselessly so, and it’s connected to a kitchen with all kinds of traditional furniture and tools.
You were still so scared a moment ago, arms raised high, heart beating out of your chest. It seems Sukuna does not want to harm you.
“I…” You trail off, shoulders drooping, and the volume of your cursed energy decreases, falling back into you. Kashimo would be disappointed. Many seconds of silence pass.
“That long, then,” Sukuna concludes. He takes his time with each movement, enjoying the act of preparing a meal like it’s some kind of foreplay for him. “What? Afraid the little non-sorcerers would panic?”
The fact that Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, in his true form, is asking you genuine questions while moving around in a kitchen is a bit absurd. And scary. You have to choose your words carefully; a mistake could be your end.
“…That too, but… I also heard bad things about what sorcerers do.” Your voice doesn’t come out as meek as expected, but the hesitation speaks of fear nevertheless, and you limit yourself to one sentence per turn so as not to offend him.
The sound of wood scratching against wood disturbs the quiet. Sukuna leans over the cutting board and waves his hand in the air a few times. It’s his cleaving technique on a much smaller scale, and the little wind from the slashes manages to reach you too. You stiffen when the faint cursed energy of his tickles the tip of your nose.
“So you belong nowhere. Too strange for non-sorcerers, too soft for sorcerers,” Sukuna continues, his four eyes solely on the cutting board and on the unknown food he’s currently working on. You’re starting to tire from still having your otherwise never-activated cursed energy on, and the flames of electricity grow smaller and smaller around you. “And now here you are. Somewhere much worse than the other two options.”
He looks up at you briefly, his face strangely calm and neutral.
A cold but satisfying shiver runs down your spine as you feel his full attention on you for that brief moment. Being observed by so many eyes on one person is like being put under a microscope.
Then, he looks down again with disinterest.
You take a gamble. If he wanted you dead, you would be dead already. If he wanted to play with your fear, he would use harsher methods.
“Why am I here?” you ask and hope the question doesn’t come out too demanding.
To your surprise, Sukuna just shrugs. “You don’t need to think about that.” With a mocking grin, he adds, “You wouldn’t be doing anything important anyway. Not with the non-sorcerers, not with the sorcerers. You were fair game.”
Fair game?
“I was with the sorcerers, though. Just very recently.”
That makes Sukuna pause, and his hunched-over form straightens until his massive frame looms over the kitchen counter, arms spreading to take up more space. That gesture alone makes you feel smaller, and your half-lidded eyes open in alertness once again.
“Hah?”
Sukuna gestures for you to come closer with a jerky nod of his head, and you find yourself obeying. Traitorous feet.
From the new angle, you can see a piece of meat laid out on the board, cut smoothly into even slices. Based on the tint, it’s probably just chicken. You hope it is chicken.
With a soft gulp, you look back up at Sukuna to explain yourself.
“There’s a Culling Game player. He wanted to kill me for points… I had to use my powers and he… he realized we have the same cursed energy, so he decided to teach me instead.”
Sukuna scoffs with annoyance.
“You’re only alive because of a coincidence, then. Pathetic.”
His fingers massage salt and spices into the meat roughly. As he moves to the side, you can see three plates lined up on the counter behind the man. Flour, eggs, breadcrumbs.
Is he…?
You don’t get to finish the thought.
“Clearly, that man has done a shit job.”
Your nose scrunches up a little. Thankfully, Sukuna is not watching you anymore. Kashimo is a complicated man, but at the same time, his personality is very simple. You almost slipped up and defended him. “He doesn’t mind, right?” Sukuna then asks but the lazy way the words roll of Sukuna’s tongue suggests it’s a rhetorical question. Now that you think about it... Does Kashimo care that you’re gone?
“My cursed energy seems to be important to you,” you say with a firmer tone now.
Sukuna hums, though it could be mistaken for a deep growl. He’s not denying it, which allows you to deduce two things: one, he really won’t kill you as long as you’re useful. Two, being useful could still mean a lot of things.
You try not to be distracted by the sight of Sukuna’s abdominal mouth opening when his hips get closer to the laid-out fillets.
“In a way.”
That’s all the answer you get.
“Eyes are up here.”
Shit. You tear your gaze from his stomach, only to find that his lower set of eyes are on you. The creepiness makes you shiver for a second time.
“Apologies… Sukuna.” What else should you call him? Your Grace? That’s stupid and could come off a little mocking.
“That’s sensei to you.”
Now, it’s your turn to be confused.
“Sorry?”
Sukuna doesn’t bother explaining. Instead, he does something even more unexpected.
“What disgusting side dish do you like with fried chicken?” He turns around and places a pan on the stove. The scene is too domestic. You don’t know much about Sukuna. Even though your self-designated teacher always manages to bring him up in conversation, it’s mostly about his strength. Not whatever this is. It could be a game. A test? No, that’s stupid.
“R-rice?”
Sukuna glances over his shoulder and rolls all four of his eyes with an annoyed sigh.
“Turn it off,” he commands gruffly.
Your cursed energy was still on. You hadn’t even noticed how it was beginning to tire you out again.
The flickering lights extinguish gradually until darkness settles over the room, with the exception of the kitchen, where the small lights remain lit.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other nervously as you stand near the counters and watch the King of Curses prepare to fry chicken. And cook rice?
The wooden floor creaks under his weight in protest. His posture doesn’t seem threatening now, but there’s a certain defiance in the way his shoulders are drawn up, like he doesn’t really want to be there. That doesn’t make sense. He’s Sukuna. He can do whatever he wants, so why force himself?
After a while, he speaks up again.
“Know this, little sorcerer. You don’t qualify as a hostage.” There’s a pause when the oil starts sizzling. A few fillets, now coated with spices, flour, egg, and breadcrumbs, slide into the pan.
“It would imply you give me leverage over my enemies. But you don’t, because they don’t give a fuck about you.”
You can’t suppress a sleepy frown. Although the logic makes sense, however harsh the truth is. You’re too new. Kashimo has his reasons for why he decided to train you, but you were never part of his plans, whatever those are. The other sorcerers you got to know in the process have big things to worry about, and you haven’t made a connection strong enough to make a rescue mission worth it.
You’re on your own. You’re not strong at all. Useless, in a way.
Still, you’re at the Zenin estate with Sukuna and other evil people you don’t know for a reason.
“You said I should call you sensei. Does that mean—”
“Yes.”
The reply comes fast but with a hint of discomfort.
“Why?”
“Is the little sorcerer stupid? I told you not to think about that. You have no choice but to accept it.”
Oil pops loudly, punctuating the finality in the words.
You stay quiet, and the man turns around with a wrinkled forehead and a subtle sneer.
“I said, you have no choice but to accept it.”
His gaze is too intense again, and you automatically take a step back.
“Y-yes, sensei.” It feels odd. Kashimo was never that scary. Mean, yes but after making some kind of deal with others, he put the whole killing spree on a hold. He was fun, sometimes. You have to have some kind of importance, if the King of Curses is forcing you to learn from him.
The oil finally stills.
Sukuna moves with unhurried precision, lifting the golden fillets from the pan and placing them onto a wooden plate lined with paper. The rice steams in a simple bowl, white and unassuming beside the crisp, seasoned meat. He does not look at you as he portions the food, but you feel the awareness in him all the same.
Two plates, one huge portion, one small portion.
He carries them to the low table in the living room and sits first, folding his legs beneath his massive frame with surprising ease. His markings stretch with his skin where his joints bend.
You hesitate before joining him. The electricity in your veins is gone now, leaving you feeling hollowed out. The house feels too quiet without it.
“Sit,” he says, not raising his voice.
You obey.
Up close, the food smells good, similar to a modern Kentucky Fried Chicken. Your stomach betrays you with a quiet sound, and you immediately wish the floor would swallow you whole.
All four of Sukuna’s eyes lift to you.
“How human,” he murmurs.
You swallow. “I am human.”
A corner of his upper mouth tilts upward. The lower one does not move.
“For now.”
૮꒰ ˶> ༝ < ྀི˶꒱აall rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.
