I jolted awake, heart pounding in my chest, my sheets tangled around my legs like they were trying to hold me down. For a split second, I thought it was all a bad dream. The nightmare I had about Shimizu coming back, the horrible man that had torn my life apart before, and Sukuna... God, Sukuna, showing up at my house and mocking me in front of him, that had to be a dream too, right?

I sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light spilling through my curtains. My room looked the same as always—peaceful, untouched by the chaos of my mind. I sighed, trying to shake the images of Shimizu and Sukuna from my head.

It had to have been a nightmare.

But then I moved.

A dull, aching pain rippled through my body, and I winced. My thighs... my arms... I pulled back the blanket and looked down at myself. There they were. The bruises. Ugly purple marks where Shimizu had struck me with his cane. The dull throb in my muscles, the tightness in my skin—none of it was a dream.

It was real. All of it.

My stomach twisted into knots, and a cold wave of dread washed over me. The memories from yesterday slammed into me all at once, and I couldn't stop trembling.

Shimizu was back. He was really back. After all these years of thinking I'd finally escaped his cruel grip, he was here, in my house, controlling my life again. And Sukuna... Sukuna had been here too, smirking and tossing my phone aside like it meant nothing, completely indifferent to what I was going through.

I felt sick. The kind of deep, hollow sickness that gnaws at your insides.

I forced myself out of bed, each movement sending a wave of pain through my bruised limbs. I padded over to the mirror, almost afraid of what I'd see. There were no visible bruises on my face, thankfully, but my body... my thighs were mottled with dark marks where Shimizu had struck me, and my arms had matching bruises from when he decided I needed to be "reminded" of the discipline I'd apparently forgotten.

It was all real. I couldn't hide from it, no matter how much I wished it was a nightmare.

As I stood there, staring at my reflection, the events of yesterday played on a loop in my head. I remembered how Shimizu had barely let me eat. After Sukuna left, Shimizu had thrown one of his fits, scolding me for letting someone like that into the house, for being "disgusting" enough to even associate with someone covered in tattoos, as if that was the worst sin I'd ever committed.

Then, when dinner came around, he gave me an apple. Just one apple.

"You've gained weight since I last saw you," he'd said with that same smug, cold voice he always used when he was about to humiliate me. "You should be careful. If you let yourself go, no one will want you."

I'd eaten that apple with tears stinging my eyes, my throat too tight to even swallow properly. I hadn't dared argue with him. I never could. He'd just hit me again if I did.

I hadn't told him that I hadn't gained weight, that I'd lost some, if anything. What would be the point? His mind was made up. And even if I had gained weight, who the hell cared?

But Shimizu cared. He cared about turning me into his idea of perfection—skinny, silent, obedient. Like some fucking doll he could shape and mold however he wanted.

::.............................................::

This morning, I thought maybe things would be different. Maybe I'd get to eat a real breakfast. My stomach growled as I thought about it, painfully empty after a night of nothing but that damned apple.

I headed downstairs, still feeling the ache in my body from where he'd hit me, my heart heavy with dread. When I walked into the dining room, my eyes scanned the table, and my stomach dropped.

Fruits. Just a fucking bowl of fruits. No eggs, no toast, no cereal. Just oranges, apples, and bananas.

Shimizu sat at the head of the table, reading something on his phone, completely ignoring me. I stood there for a moment, too shocked to move. My stomach twisted painfully, growling so loudly I was afraid he'd hear it.

Finally, he looked up.

"An orange will suffice for you this morning," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "I assume you understand the benefits of citrus fruits. They're light, full of vitamins, and they'll keep you from gaining any more unnecessary weight."

He was mocking me. Of course, he was. He always had a way of turning everything into some twisted joke, making me feel small and worthless.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. What could I even say? That I was starving? That I needed real food? He'd just laugh. Or worse, he'd hit me again.

So, I did what I always did. I obeyed. I grabbed an orange from the bowl and sat down at the table, peeling it slowly, my hands shaking. I could feel his eyes on me, watching, judging, waiting for me to mess up somehow.

The orange was sour, the taste sharp on my tongue, but I forced it down anyway. Bite after bite, I ate in silence, pretending I couldn't feel his gaze boring into me.

"You need to learn control, Y/N," Shimizu said after a long moment. "Discipline. You've let yourself become soft. Weak."

I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood, but I didn't respond. What was the point? No matter what I said, he'd twist it into something to punish me for. So, I stayed silent.

"You were always such a disappointment," he continued, his voice low, cruel. "I gave you everything—structure, guidance—and look at what you've become. Running around likee a FOOL, making a mockery of everything I taught you."

I swallowed the last piece of the orange, my throat tight with unshed tears. I couldn't let him see me cry. I couldn't. That's what he wanted.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, his eyes cold and expectant.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. If I opened my mouth, I knew I'd break, and I couldn't let that happen. Not again. Not in front of him.

Shimizu sighed, standing up from the table. "You're pathetic," he said, walking over to me. He stopped just behind my chair, placing a hand on my shoulder. His grip was tight, painful, but I didn't flinch. I couldn't give him that satisfaction.

"You'll learn," he said quietly, almost whispering in my ear. "One way or another, you'll learn."

I sat there, frozen, as he let go of my shoulder and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

The moment he was gone, I let out a shaky breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding. My whole body was trembling, and the orange sat heavy in my stomach, like a rock weighing me down.

I hated him. I hated how he made me feel, how he twisted everything I did, how he controlled every aspect of my life. But more than that, I hated myself for being too weak to fight back. For letting him win, over and over again.

::.............................................::

As I stood from the table, my stomach still growling, and my body aching from yesterday's "punishment," I prepared myself mentally to ascend the stairs and get ready for university. Each step felt like a monumental task, every inch of my body protesting from the bruises left behind by Shimizu's brutal hands. But just as I was about to make my way upstairs, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I saw the way you looked at that delinquent with the tattoos yesterday," Shimizu sneered from his spot at the table. His voice oozed with mockery, dripping with the same disdain he'd always carried for anything he deemed beneath his standards. "I can't believe you've fallen that low. I didn't train you to end up like some common whore."

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I froze. My entire body stiffened, my hand gripping the banister so tightly my knuckles turned white. The audacity—he was talking about Sukuna, of course. Of course, he had to make everything worse, dragging Sukuna into this nightmare.

I bit my lip, swallowing down the sharp retort that burned in my throat. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him to shut the hell up, that he didn't know anything, that he was the one who was twisted. But I knew better. Talking back would only make it worse. Much worse.

So, I did the only thing I could. I ran. I rushed up the stairs, my heart pounding in my chest, my breathing uneven. My hands shook as I slammed the door to my room behind me. I leaned against it, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth my tears.

But those words lingered in my mind, festering like a wound I couldn't ignore. A delinquent with tattoos. A common whore. Shimizu had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't know me. He didn't know anything about Sukuna. He just wanted control. Control over every aspect of my life, like I was his fucking puppet.

I felt my throat tighten, my chest constricting as the weight of everything pressed down on me. Shimizu was back. And it was like no time had passed at all. All the strength, all the courage I thought I had built up over the years—it crumbled the moment he returned.

Shaking, I forced myself to move. I couldn't let him see that he had gotten under my skin. I couldn't give him the satisfaction. I needed to get ready for the day, to get out of this house as fast as possible. I stripped off my clothes, grimacing as I saw the bruises on my skin—dark purples and reds blossoming across my thighs and arms where Shimizu's cane had struck me. I felt sick looking at them, like I was staring at the evidence of my own weakness.

I stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as I could stand. The scalding water washed over me, but it did little to soothe the ache in my muscles or the sting in my heart. I scrubbed at my skin as if I could wash away the shame, the humiliation, the anger I felt. But no matter how hard I tried, it stuck to me like a second skin.

::.............................................::

When I got out of the shower, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were puffy, my skin pale, and the slap mark on my cheek was still visible—a red, angry reminder of Shimizu's temper. My heart sank. I couldn't go to university looking like this. People would ask questions. I wasn't strong enough to deal with that right now.

I pulled out my makeup kit, carefully covering the mark on my cheek, using foundation to hide the evidence of his violence. I applied a little extra concealer under my eyes, trying to mask the exhaustion that weighed me down. I hated that I had to do this—cover up the truth. But it was better than letting people see the real damage.

I slipped into a long-sleeved dress, one that would hide the bruises on my arms and thighs. The fabric was soft against my skin, but it did little to ease the pain that flared with every movement. I stared at myself in the mirror, forcing a smile, but it looked hollow, empty. A mask to wear for the outside world.

I couldn't stay in this house any longer. I had to leave. Even if it meant going to university and pretending everything was fine. Even if it meant plastering a smile on my face and acting like my world wasn't crumbling around me.

I grabbed my bag, heading downstairs. Miss Tanaka, our maid, stood near the door, watching me with a look of sympathy in her eyes. She had seen the bruises before. She had seen me suffer under Shimizu's brutal regime for years. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do.

"Have a good day, miss," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

I forced a smile. "Thanks, Miss Tanaka." But we both knew it was empty. There was no "good" in any of this.

As I stepped out of the house and into the fresh air, I felt a small sense of relief wash over me. At least I was out of that place, away from Shimizu's oppressive presence. But his words from earlier still echoed in my mind, poisoning the small bit of peace I had hoped to find.

I saw the way you looked at that delinquent.

Sukuna. His name alone made my chest tighten with a mix of emotions I didn't even want to acknowledge. Yesterday had been a blur, the confrontation with him still fresh in my mind. The way he had stood there, smirking, tossing my phone on the sofa like he couldn't be bothered. He had mocked me, like he always did, his words laced with double meanings and cruelty.

But... why? Why did he have to come back into my life at the worst possible time? Why did he have to throw himself into the middle of my mess?

I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on me, the way they had pierced through me in the living room. And the worst part was that Shimizu had noticed too. He had seen something. Something that wasn't even there.

I didn't train you to be a whore.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I walked toward the university. No matter how much I tried to block it out, Shimizu's words kept crawling back, reminding me of the ugly truth of my situation. Sukuna may have been cruel, but Shimizu was worse—his control, his manipulation, his ability to make me feel small and insignificant.

By the time I arrived at university, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. My body hurt with every step, my mind swirling with a thousand different thoughts. But I had to push it all down. I had to smile, laugh, pretend that everything was normal.

As I walked through the gates and headed toward my first class, I couldn't help but wonder if Sukuna would be there today. Would he notice the way I flinched when I moved? Would he mock me again, like he always did?

I didn't know what I hated more—the way Sukuna could so easily get under my skin, or the fact that Shimizu's words were still haunting me.

All I knew was that today was going to be a long day. And I had no idea how I was going to get through it.

::.............................................::

As I walked into the classroom, I glanced at the clock. There was still a bit of time before the first lecture. I braced myself, knowing that the moment I entered, someone would probably notice me.

And like clockwork, there was Gojo, already making a scene, sauntering over like he owned the whole damn place. His white hair, as ridiculous as ever, practically gleamed in the fluorescent lights. He looked... excited. Which could only mean one thing: CHAOS.

"Yo, (Y/N)!" Gojo called out, his grin wide enough to split his face. "You're not gonna believe what happened yesterday. I was out with Suguru, right?"

I smiled, bracing myself. When Gojo was this hyped, there was no stopping him.

"Suguru and I were at the arcade—" Gojo started, cutting straight to the point, his voice booming like he was about to deliver the most important story of the century.

"Correction," Suguru interjected from his seat behind Gojo, looking up from his phone with that signature smirk of his. "I was at the arcade. You, on the other hand, were too busy showing off your 'perfect' aim and acting like you had six eyes instead of two."

Gojo shot him a look. "Hey, it's not my fault that I'm just naturally superior in every way. It's genetic, man."

"Sure, sure," Suguru drawled, rolling his eyes. "Because everyone knows your genetics give you super vision."

"Anyway," Gojo continued, unfazed by Suguru's mockery, "I decided to play this crane game, right? You know, the one that no one ever wins? Yeah, well, I was about to demolish that game. I could feel it. It was in my blood, you know?"

Suguru snorted. "You mean you were about to waste money on it. Again."

"Shut up, Suguru. Listen, I was this close-," he brought his forefinger and thumb close like a pinch, "-to getting the stuffed panda, okay? I had the claw perfectly lined up, the timing was impeccable—like, I could feel the winning energy flowing through me. And then, as I'm about to grab it, the claw just—"

Suguru didn't let him finish. "Just dropped the toy like it had better things to do, just like every other time you've played that game."

Gojo groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Nah, I won! I just—"

"You didn't win," Suguru said flatly, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes. "You never win. Maybe if you actually used those 'six eyes' of yours, you'd stand a chance."

Gojo's face fell for a second, like he was genuinely offended, before his grin snapped back into place. "Well, let me tell you what did happen. After my almost victory—"

Suguru cut in again. "Almost? Please."

"After," Gojo said, stressing the word like he was correcting a child, "Suguru won something and proceeded to act all high and mighty about it. But little did he know—"

"That I'm better at crane games than you?" Suguru offered helpfully.

Gojo ignored him and turned to me, eyes sparkling. "The best part of the day was when we left the arcade, and I tripped over my own feet and face-planted right into the street."

At that, Suguru burst into laughter, clearly holding back for a while. "You went down like a fucking tree, man. You didn't even put your hands out to catch yourself."

Gojo sighed dramatically. "I was betrayed by my own coordination. My own body. But don't worry, I bounced back."

Suguru couldn't stop laughing, and even I found myself chuckling. Gojo had a way of telling stories that was so absurd you couldn't help but laugh. It was like the universe existed purely to give him material.

"Next time," Suguru said, wiping tears from his eyes, "maybe keep your eyes on the ground, not on imaginary panda plushies."

"Yeah, yeah," Gojo waved him off, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "You'd think I was the only one with coordination issues. But Nah, I'd win if we had a rematch."

I couldn't stop laughing at this point, my stomach hurting from how ridiculous the whole situation sounded. "You seriously  think you'd still win?!"

Gojo smirked, leaning back with that cocky look of his. "Of course, I'd win. I always win. Suguru may be the calm one, but I'm a goddamn legend."

"You're insane, Gojo," I managed between laughs, wiping at my eyes. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

"Dumb? Maybe. Hilarious? Absolutely. YOUR GLORIOUS BLUE EYED KING?! ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!!" Gojo grinned, clearly proud of himself.

By now, I was laughing, too HARD. It wasn't even the story itself; it was the way Gojo told it, all dramatic flair and exaggerated hand movements. He had a way of making the most mundane things seem like world-ending catastrophes. 

I shook my head, still laughing, but then something caught my eye. From across the classroom, I felt a pair of eyes burning into me. I didn't even have to guess who it was. I could feel his gaze like a weight pressing down on me, suffocating me.

Sukuna.

I glanced up, my laughter dying in my throat as our eyes met. He was sitting at the back, leaning against his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes were locked on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. There was something unreadable in his expression—something dark.

I couldn't help it; my heart clenched, and my fingers curled into fists at my sides. The laughter from Gojo's ridiculous story evaporated as quickly as it had come, and all I was left with was the hurt and anger bubbling up inside me. Yesterday's confrontation with Sukuna flashed in my mind, the way he'd mocked me, taunted me, thrown my phone onto the sofa with such casual disregard.

I hated him. I hated him. And yet, there was something about the way he was looking at me right now that made my stomach twist in knots. I turned away quickly, trying to shove those feelings down, ignoring the pain that surged through me.

::.............................................::

Before I could spiral any further, I felt someone's presence beside me, and I turned to see Nanami standing there, his usual stoic expression in place.

"Good morning," he greeted me, his voice calm and polite, as always.

"Morning, Nanami," I replied, trying to push Sukuna out of my mind for the moment. "How's it going? Did you manage to survive the university tour with Geto?"

Nanami gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "It was... informative. Geto was very thorough."

I snorted, unable to help myself. "I bet he was. Did he take you to every corner of the campus?"

"Pretty much," Nanami replied dryly, but I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I think I know more about this university's history than I'll ever need."

I chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease out of my shoulders. Nanami had a way of calming things down, even in his serious, deadpan way. "Well, if you ever need to escape from Geto's history lessons, let me know. I can give you the real tour."

Nanami gave a rare smile, a small one, but it was there. "I'll keep that in mind."

Our conversation was interrupted by the bell ringing, signaling the start of class. I said goodbye to Nanami and headed to my seat, where Shoko was already sitting, flipping through her notebook.

"Hey, Y/N," she greeted me, looking up from her notes with a smirk. "You look like shit. Late night?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "You have no idea."

We exchanged a few more jokes, talking about some random girl stuff before the lecture started. Shoko always knew how to lighten the mood, and for a moment, it felt almost normal. Like I could forget about everything else—Shimizu, Sukuna, the bruises hiding under my clothes.

::.............................................::

As the class droned on, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It was a prickling sensation at the back of my neck, a weight that bore down on me with each passing second. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. SUKUNA

I kept my eyes forward, trying to focus on the lecture, but his presence was like a shadow looming over me. Even without looking, I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my head, heavy with something I couldn't decipher. Anger? Amusement? Disgust? I didn't know, and I didn't want to know.

The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter in my chest until I felt like I couldn't breathe. I clenched my fists under the desk, trying to hold it together, but it was no use. No matter how much I tried to focus on anything else, Sukuna was always there, in the back of my mind, in the corner of my vision, in the pit of my stomach.

By the time the class ended, I was exhausted, drained from the effort of keeping myself together. Shoko nudged me as we packed up our things, her brow furrowing as she looked at me.

"Hey, you okay? You seem off."

I forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. "Yeah, just tired. Didn't sleep much."

She didn't seem convinced, but thankfully, she didn't push. "Alright. But if you need to vent or anything, you know where to find me."

I nodded, grateful for the offer, even though I knew I couldn't talk about any of this. Not with her. Not with anyone.

As I walked out of the classroom, I glanced over my shoulder once, my eyes meeting Sukuna's for just a second before I quickly looked away. That same unreadable expression was still there, haunting me.

I couldn't get away from him fast enough.

::.............................................::

HEY GUYZ. I M BACK.

Sorry for the late update. Really sorry my lovelies. I was busy with some stuff. But I promise I will try to update regularly or after 2 days at least. ;)

Anyways I really happy to see the people that are here and appreciate my stories. I really love you guys. And please keep supporting me just like that.

Till then 

See you again soon.