𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗲

There's blood dripping steadily from the cut on your face onto the polished floor of the entrance hall. Your good eye stays fixed on the tips of your ruined shoes as the pain pulses through every limb

Sukuna clicks her tongue. "Look at the mess you made of yourself. And of the floor."

Dio's voice comes next. "Let her in before she bleeds out on the threshold. We don't have it here so she could die on the doorstep."

You wait until Sukuna steps aside. Only then do you straighten a little and step inside, careful not to track too much blood across the marble. The door shuts behind you with a soft click that somehow feels heavier than it should.

Sukuna walks ahead toward the sitting room without looking back. "Come. You're dripping everywhere."

You follow, each step sending fresh sparks of pain up your broken arm and through the deep cuts along your ribs. Dio trails behind you, her presence close enough that you can feel her eyes on the ruined outfit, the fabric is stiff with dried blood and it sticks unpleasantly to the open wounds.

In the sitting room Sukuna points to the low couch. "Sit and take off your clothes."

You lower yourself carefully, the room tilting for a second when you do, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stay upright.

"I-I can't..." you mutter, embarrassed.

"You can't?" Dio questions, her eyebrow arching.

"It hurts." You look down your lap, the minimum movement you do in your upper body has you biting back a scream.

"Help her undress, Dio," Sukuna says as she disappears for a moment to grab warm water, clean cloths and a small kit of medical supplies.

Dio stands in front of you, arms still crossed, looking down because for her you are a particularly inconvenient problem that showed up on her doorstep. She lets out a long and annoyed breath.

"You're a very stupid woman for showing up like this," she says, irritated. "Do you enjoy causing us this much trouble?"

You shake your head quickly, then regret it when the cut across your face pulls tight. "No, mistress. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you didn't mean to." Dio steps closer and starts unfastening the blood-crusted fabric with irritated motions. "You never mean to. You just go off and nearly get yourself killed and then crawl back expecting us to fix it."

Her fingers work at the ties and buttons, peeling the ruined clothes away from your skin. The fabric sticks in places where blood has dried, and each time she has to tug a little harder you can't stop the pained sounds that slip out. Dio mutters under her breath the whole time, calling you careless, calling you a headache, telling you that a more useful servant would have come home in one piece.

When the last of the outer layers is gone and you're left in only the thin underthings that are also torn and stained, Dio finally stops. Her eyes move over the damage properly for the first time. The long cut from forehead to cheek. The swollen, wrong angle of your arm. The deep slices along your side and stomach. The bruises blooming dark across your ribs and hips. It's really terrible

"Stay still," she says, quieter now. "Sukuna will handle the wounds. You're more damaged than you looked standing up."

You nod as carefully as you can.

Sukuna returns and sets everything down on the low table and kneels in front of you without a word. Dio moves to the side but stays close enough.

Sukuna starts cleaning the cut on your face first, pressing the warm cloth firmly. You flinch hard. The sting is bright and immediate. Then she moves to the deeper cuts along your torso, rinsing away dried blood and dirt. Every pass of the cloth makes your good eye water. Your unbroken hand curls into a fist against your thigh.

You look up at Dio through the blur of pain. Your voice comes out small and shaky. "Can I hold your hand?"

For a second she just stares at you like the request is ridiculous. Then she glances at the way your body is trembling, you're biting the inside of your cheek to keep from making more noise while Sukuna works on a particularly deep cut near your ribs.

She sighs but she holds out her hand anyway, sinking on the couch next to you. You take it immediately, fingers curling tight around hers. Her grip is firm, but it gives you something solid to focus on while Sukuna continues cleaning and wrapping. You squeeze every time the cloth catches on torn skin or when she presses too close to the broken arm.

"Stupid woman," Dio mutters again, though her hand doesn't pull away. "Coming home like this. Making us waste the evening on first aid instead of anything useful."

Sukuna doesn't look up from the bandage she's wrapping around your ribs. "She's still usable once the bleeding stops. Just not for anything that requires much movement."

You keep holding Dio’s hand, head bowed, breathing through the worst of it.

"I-I won the fight," you manage to say between stings of pain, eyes shut, waiting for their reaction.

"Oh, did you?" Sukuna says, making it sound like she's making fun of you. Maybe she is.

"Yes," you confirm again, waiting for a good reaction. Waiting with your eyes closed for a 'good girl' or a 'we'll reward you later.'

Dio barks a laugh when she understands it. She tips your chin up with two fingers so you’re forced to meet her eyes with your one good one. "You expected praise, didn't you? I can see it all over that pathetic face."

You swallow. "Yes, mistress. If… if I earned it."

"You completed the job," Dio says. "That's the bare minimum. The rest of this," she gestures at your body, "is just extra work for us."

Sukuna finishes wrapping the last wound, rising and moving to sit beside you on the couch, now you're crowded between their solid bodies.

"I didn't mean to cause you extra work..." you say, head low. "I'm sorry."

"You always are," Dio reminds you.

You stay quiet waiting, the apology still hanging in the air between the three of you.

Sukuna's thumb strokes once along the side of your neck. "It's okay," she says at last. "You'll make up for it when you're not half dead and useless."

You nod as carefully as the bandages allow. "Yes, mistresses. I will."

Dio stands and looks down at you for a long moment. "Can you walk, or do we have to carry you to bed?"

You try to push yourself up from the couch. The room sways and your broken arm throbs in protest, Sukuna steadies you with a hand under your good elbow before you can tip forward.

"She's walking,” Sukuna decides. "If she falls, she can crawl the rest of the way."

They guide you out of the sitting room and up the stairs. Every step pulls at the fresh bandages. Dio walks ahead while Sukuna stays at your side, one hand occasionally pressing against the small of your back when you slow too much.

The bed is wide enough for all three of you without anyone having to touch if they don't want to. Tonight they clearly want to.

Dio points at the edge of the mattress. "Sit."

You obey. Sukuna disappears for a moment and returns with a tray carrying a bowl of warm broth and soft bread. Nothing that requires much effort to eat.

She sets the tray on your lap with care not to bump the bandaged arm. "Eat. You're no use to us if you pass out from blood loss in the middle of the night."

You pick up the spoon with your good hand. The first sip is warm and salty. It settles in your stomach and makes the edges of the pain feel a little less sharp. Dio watches you the entire time from where she leans against one of the bedposts.

"Slower," she says when you try to hurry. "No one is taking it away."

You slow down. Bite by bite. Sip by sip. When the bowl is empty and the bread is gone, Sukuna takes the tray away. Dio moves closer and checks the bandage on your face with two fingers, adjusting it slightly.

"Still bleeding a little," she whispers. "But it'll hold."

They pull you into bed, laying back against the pillows and you sink into it with a sound of relief you can't hide. Dio climbs onto the bed on one side of you, Sukuna takes the other. They do'’t leave space between your body and theirs.

Dio’s hand rests on your uninjured hip. Sukuna's fingers find the edge of the bandage across your ribs and stay there, as if counting the rise and fall of your breathing.

"You're staying right here," Sukuna says. "No getting up. If you need something, you ask. Understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

Dio leans in until her mouth is close to your ear. "Sleep. We'll decide what to do with you in the morning. For now you're just going to stay put and heal enough to be useful again."

"I'll be better next time," you whisper into the quiet. "I won't come back like this again."

Sukuna's quiet huff of laughter brushes against your hair. "We'll see."

There's blood dripping steadily from the cut on your face onto the polished floor of the entrance hall. Your good eye stays fixed on the tips of your ruined shoes as the pain pulses through every limb

Sukuna clicks her tongue. "Look at the mess you made of yourself. And of the floor."

Dio's voice comes next. "Let her in before she bleeds out on the threshold. We don't have it here so she could die on the doorstep."

You wait until Sukuna steps aside. Only then do you straighten a little and step inside, careful not to track too much blood across the marble. The door shuts behind you with a soft click that somehow feels heavier than it should.

Sukuna walks ahead toward the sitting room without looking back. "Come. You're dripping everywhere."

You follow, each step sending fresh sparks of pain up your broken arm and through the deep cuts along your ribs. Dio trails behind you, her presence close enough that you can feel her eyes on the ruined outfit, the fabric is stiff with dried blood and it sticks unpleasantly to the open wounds.

In the sitting room Sukuna points to the low couch. "Sit and take off your clothes."

You lower yourself carefully, the room tilting for a second when you do, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stay upright.

"I-I can't..." you mutter, embarrassed.

"You can't?" Dio questions, her eyebrow arching.

"It hurts." You look down your lap, the minimum movement you do in your upper body has you biting back a scream.

"Help her undress, Dio," Sukuna says as she disappears for a moment to grab warm water, clean cloths and a small kit of medical supplies.

Dio stands in front of you, arms still crossed, looking down because for her you are a particularly inconvenient problem that showed up on her doorstep. She lets out a long and annoyed breath.

"You're a very stupid woman for showing up like this," she says, irritated. "Do you enjoy causing us this much trouble?"

You shake your head quickly, then regret it when the cut across your face pulls tight. "No, mistress. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you didn't mean to." Dio steps closer and starts unfastening the blood-crusted fabric with irritated motions. "You never mean to. You just go off and nearly get yourself killed and then crawl back expecting us to fix it."

Her fingers work at the ties and buttons, peeling the ruined clothes away from your skin. The fabric sticks in places where blood has dried, and each time she has to tug a little harder you can't stop the pained sounds that slip out. Dio mutters under her breath the whole time, calling you careless, calling you a headache, telling you that a more useful servant would have come home in one piece.

When the last of the outer layers is gone and you're left in only the thin underthings that are also torn and stained, Dio finally stops. Her eyes move over the damage properly for the first time. The long cut from forehead to cheek. The swollen, wrong angle of your arm. The deep slices along your side and stomach. The bruises blooming dark across your ribs and hips. It's really terrible

"Stay still," she says, quieter now. "Sukuna will handle the wounds. You're more damaged than you looked standing up."

You nod as carefully as you can.

Sukuna returns and sets everything down on the low table and kneels in front of you without a word. Dio moves to the side but stays close enough.

Sukuna starts cleaning the cut on your face first, pressing the warm cloth firmly. You flinch hard. The sting is bright and immediate. Then she moves to the deeper cuts along your torso, rinsing away dried blood and dirt. Every pass of the cloth makes your good eye water. Your unbroken hand curls into a fist against your thigh.

You look up at Dio through the blur of pain. Your voice comes out small and shaky. "Can I hold your hand?"

For a second she just stares at you like the request is ridiculous. Then she glances at the way your body is trembling, you're biting the inside of your cheek to keep from making more noise while Sukuna works on a particularly deep cut near your ribs.

She sighs but she holds out her hand anyway, sinking on the couch next to you. You take it immediately, fingers curling tight around hers. Her grip is firm, but it gives you something solid to focus on while Sukuna continues cleaning and wrapping. You squeeze every time the cloth catches on torn skin or when she presses too close to the broken arm.

"Stupid woman," Dio mutters again, though her hand doesn't pull away. "Coming home like this. Making us waste the evening on first aid instead of anything useful."

Sukuna doesn't look up from the bandage she's wrapping around your ribs. "She's still usable once the bleeding stops. Just not for anything that requires much movement."

You keep holding Dio’s hand, head bowed, breathing through the worst of it.

"I-I won the fight," you manage to say between stings of pain, eyes shut, waiting for their reaction.

"Oh, did you?" Sukuna says, making it sound like she's making fun of you. Maybe she is.

"Yes," you confirm again, waiting for a good reaction. Waiting with your eyes closed for a 'good girl' or a 'we'll reward you later.'

Dio barks a laugh when she understands it. She tips your chin up with two fingers so you’re forced to meet her eyes with your one good one. "You expected praise, didn't you? I can see it all over that pathetic face."

You swallow. "Yes, mistress. If… if I earned it."

"You completed the job," Dio says. "That's the bare minimum. The rest of this," she gestures at your body, "is just extra work for us."

Sukuna finishes wrapping the last wound, rising and moving to sit beside you on the couch, now you're crowded between their solid bodies.

"I didn't mean to cause you extra work..." you say, head low. "I'm sorry."

"You always are," Dio reminds you.

You stay quiet waiting, the apology still hanging in the air between the three of you.

Sukuna's thumb strokes once along the side of your neck. "It's okay," she says at last. "You'll make up for it when you're not half dead and useless."

You nod as carefully as the bandages allow. "Yes, mistresses. I will."

Dio stands and looks down at you for a long moment. "Can you walk, or do we have to carry you to bed?"

You try to push yourself up from the couch. The room sways and your broken arm throbs in protest, Sukuna steadies you with a hand under your good elbow before you can tip forward.

"She's walking,” Sukuna decides. "If she falls, she can crawl the rest of the way."

They guide you out of the sitting room and up the stairs. Every step pulls at the fresh bandages. Dio walks ahead while Sukuna stays at your side, one hand occasionally pressing against the small of your back when you slow too much.

The bed is wide enough for all three of you without anyone having to touch if they don't want to. Tonight they clearly want to.

Dio points at the edge of the mattress. "Sit."

You obey. Sukuna disappears for a moment and returns with a tray carrying a bowl of warm broth and soft bread. Nothing that requires much effort to eat.

She sets the tray on your lap with care not to bump the bandaged arm. "Eat. You're no use to us if you pass out from blood loss in the middle of the night."

You pick up the spoon with your good hand. The first sip is warm and salty. It settles in your stomach and makes the edges of the pain feel a little less sharp. Dio watches you the entire time from where she leans against one of the bedposts.

"Slower," she says when you try to hurry. "No one is taking it away."

You slow down. Bite by bite. Sip by sip. When the bowl is empty and the bread is gone, Sukuna takes the tray away. Dio moves closer and checks the bandage on your face with two fingers, adjusting it slightly.

"Still bleeding a little," she whispers. "But it'll hold."

They pull you into bed, laying back against the pillows and you sink into it with a sound of relief you can't hide. Dio climbs onto the bed on one side of you, Sukuna takes the other. They do'’t leave space between your body and theirs.

Dio’s hand rests on your uninjured hip. Sukuna's fingers find the edge of the bandage across your ribs and stay there, as if counting the rise and fall of your breathing.

"You're staying right here," Sukuna says. "No getting up. If you need something, you ask. Understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

Dio leans in until her mouth is close to your ear. "Sleep. We'll decide what to do with you in the morning. For now you're just going to stay put and heal enough to be useful again."

"I'll be better next time," you whisper into the quiet. "I won't come back like this again."

Sukuna's quiet huff of laughter brushes against your hair. "We'll see."

There's blood dripping steadily from the cut on your face onto the polished floor of the entrance hall. Your good eye stays fixed on the tips of your ruined shoes as the pain pulses through every limb

Sukuna clicks her tongue. "Look at the mess you made of yourself. And of the floor."

Dio's voice comes next. "Let her in before she bleeds out on the threshold. We don't have it here so she could die on the doorstep."

You wait until Sukuna steps aside. Only then do you straighten a little and step inside, careful not to track too much blood across the marble. The door shuts behind you with a soft click that somehow feels heavier than it should.

Sukuna walks ahead toward the sitting room without looking back. "Come. You're dripping everywhere."

You follow, each step sending fresh sparks of pain up your broken arm and through the deep cuts along your ribs. Dio trails behind you, her presence close enough that you can feel her eyes on the ruined outfit, the fabric is stiff with dried blood and it sticks unpleasantly to the open wounds.

In the sitting room Sukuna points to the low couch. "Sit and take off your clothes."

You lower yourself carefully, the room tilting for a second when you do, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stay upright.

"I-I can't..." you mutter, embarrassed.

"You can't?" Dio questions, her eyebrow arching.

"It hurts." You look down your lap, the minimum movement you do in your upper body has you biting back a scream.

"Help her undress, Dio," Sukuna says as she disappears for a moment to grab warm water, clean cloths and a small kit of medical supplies.

Dio stands in front of you, arms still crossed, looking down because for her you are a particularly inconvenient problem that showed up on her doorstep. She lets out a long and annoyed breath.

"You're a very stupid woman for showing up like this," she says, irritated. "Do you enjoy causing us this much trouble?"

You shake your head quickly, then regret it when the cut across your face pulls tight. "No, mistress. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course you didn't mean to." Dio steps closer and starts unfastening the blood-crusted fabric with irritated motions. "You never mean to. You just go off and nearly get yourself killed and then crawl back expecting us to fix it."

Her fingers work at the ties and buttons, peeling the ruined clothes away from your skin. The fabric sticks in places where blood has dried, and each time she has to tug a little harder you can't stop the pained sounds that slip out. Dio mutters under her breath the whole time, calling you careless, calling you a headache, telling you that a more useful servant would have come home in one piece.

When the last of the outer layers is gone and you're left in only the thin underthings that are also torn and stained, Dio finally stops. Her eyes move over the damage properly for the first time. The long cut from forehead to cheek. The swollen, wrong angle of your arm. The deep slices along your side and stomach. The bruises blooming dark across your ribs and hips. It's really terrible

"Stay still," she says, quieter now. "Sukuna will handle the wounds. You're more damaged than you looked standing up."

You nod as carefully as you can.

Sukuna returns and sets everything down on the low table and kneels in front of you without a word. Dio moves to the side but stays close enough.

Sukuna starts cleaning the cut on your face first, pressing the warm cloth firmly. You flinch hard. The sting is bright and immediate. Then she moves to the deeper cuts along your torso, rinsing away dried blood and dirt. Every pass of the cloth makes your good eye water. Your unbroken hand curls into a fist against your thigh.

You look up at Dio through the blur of pain. Your voice comes out small and shaky. "Can I hold your hand?"

For a second she just stares at you like the request is ridiculous. Then she glances at the way your body is trembling, you're biting the inside of your cheek to keep from making more noise while Sukuna works on a particularly deep cut near your ribs.

She sighs but she holds out her hand anyway, sinking on the couch next to you. You take it immediately, fingers curling tight around hers. Her grip is firm, but it gives you something solid to focus on while Sukuna continues cleaning and wrapping. You squeeze every time the cloth catches on torn skin or when she presses too close to the broken arm.

"Stupid woman," Dio mutters again, though her hand doesn't pull away. "Coming home like this. Making us waste the evening on first aid instead of anything useful."

Sukuna doesn't look up from the bandage she's wrapping around your ribs. "She's still usable once the bleeding stops. Just not for anything that requires much movement."

You keep holding Dio’s hand, head bowed, breathing through the worst of it.

"I-I won the fight," you manage to say between stings of pain, eyes shut, waiting for their reaction.

"Oh, did you?" Sukuna says, making it sound like she's making fun of you. Maybe she is.

"Yes," you confirm again, waiting for a good reaction. Waiting with your eyes closed for a 'good girl' or a 'we'll reward you later.'

Dio barks a laugh when she understands it. She tips your chin up with two fingers so you’re forced to meet her eyes with your one good one. "You expected praise, didn't you? I can see it all over that pathetic face."

You swallow. "Yes, mistress. If… if I earned it."

"You completed the job," Dio says. "That's the bare minimum. The rest of this," she gestures at your body, "is just extra work for us."

Sukuna finishes wrapping the last wound, rising and moving to sit beside you on the couch, now you're crowded between their solid bodies.

"I didn't mean to cause you extra work..." you say, head low. "I'm sorry."

"You always are," Dio reminds you.

You stay quiet waiting, the apology still hanging in the air between the three of you.

Sukuna's thumb strokes once along the side of your neck. "It's okay," she says at last. "You'll make up for it when you're not half dead and useless."

You nod as carefully as the bandages allow. "Yes, mistresses. I will."

Dio stands and looks down at you for a long moment. "Can you walk, or do we have to carry you to bed?"

You try to push yourself up from the couch. The room sways and your broken arm throbs in protest, Sukuna steadies you with a hand under your good elbow before you can tip forward.

"She's walking,” Sukuna decides. "If she falls, she can crawl the rest of the way."

They guide you out of the sitting room and up the stairs. Every step pulls at the fresh bandages. Dio walks ahead while Sukuna stays at your side, one hand occasionally pressing against the small of your back when you slow too much.

The bed is wide enough for all three of you without anyone having to touch if they don't want to. Tonight they clearly want to.

Dio points at the edge of the mattress. "Sit."

You obey. Sukuna disappears for a moment and returns with a tray carrying a bowl of warm broth and soft bread. Nothing that requires much effort to eat.

She sets the tray on your lap with care not to bump the bandaged arm. "Eat. You're no use to us if you pass out from blood loss in the middle of the night."

You pick up the spoon with your good hand. The first sip is warm and salty. It settles in your stomach and makes the edges of the pain feel a little less sharp. Dio watches you the entire time from where she leans against one of the bedposts.

"Slower," she says when you try to hurry. "No one is taking it away."

You slow down. Bite by bite. Sip by sip. When the bowl is empty and the bread is gone, Sukuna takes the tray away. Dio moves closer and checks the bandage on your face with two fingers, adjusting it slightly.

"Still bleeding a little," she whispers. "But it'll hold."

They pull you into bed, laying back against the pillows and you sink into it with a sound of relief you can't hide. Dio climbs onto the bed on one side of you, Sukuna takes the other. They do'’t leave space between your body and theirs.

Dio’s hand rests on your uninjured hip. Sukuna's fingers find the edge of the bandage across your ribs and stay there, as if counting the rise and fall of your breathing.

"You're staying right here," Sukuna says. "No getting up. If you need something, you ask. Understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

Dio leans in until her mouth is close to your ear. "Sleep. We'll decide what to do with you in the morning. For now you're just going to stay put and heal enough to be useful again."

"I'll be better next time," you whisper into the quiet. "I won't come back like this again."

Sukuna's quiet huff of laughter brushes against your hair. "We'll see."