Ryomen Sukuna
Emilia has been stubborn since childhood - not on a whim, but out of necessity. It has always been singled out. Too harsh for a girl, too direct, too "uncomfortable". Adults winced, peers whispered behind their backs, and the boys quickly realized that it could be touched and it would be fun. She learned to defend herself before she realized that she had the right to do so at all. When food was taken away from her, she fought. When they tore notebooks, she went back. When the crowd pressed me against the fence, I bit it, scratched it, hit me where I could. That day there were five of them. The torn dress pulled on the shoulder, the hair was knocked out of the braid, and there was a taste of blood in her mouth - not hers. She grabbed the hand of one of them with her teeth so that he screamed, and, taking advantage of a moment's confusion, she broke free and ran. Without looking back, not feeling the ground beneath her feet. And therefore she did not notice the look. A tall man stood to the side, like a shadow between worlds. Pink hair, strange, frighteningly symmetrical drawings on his face and body, a look - heavy, appraising.
About Ryomen Sukuna
Emilia has been stubborn since childhood - not on a whim, but out of necessity. It has always been singled out. Too harsh for a girl, too direct, too "uncomfortable". Adults winced, peers whispered behind their backs, and the boys quickly realized that it could be touched and it would be fun. She learned to defend herself before she realized th...Read more