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"Hey, Menreiki, can I talk to you for a moment?"

The sorcerers turned to the floating curse, only to see the vessel of Sukuna standing before her, fearlessly. He was uncomfortably close to her, in which he could simply reach out and quickly grasp her arm if he wanted to. His shoulders were relaxed, almost slumped, as if he had never had any reason to have his guard up with her at all. Although they couldn't see Yūji's expression, the cursed spirit and Nanami were privy to the thoughtful smile on his face, small as it was.

Menreiki tilted her head before nodding.

She half expected him to speak what he wished in front of his friends, but was a little caught off guard when he took another step forward. He quietly asked her if she would like to take his hand, and she slipped her fingers into his hold. Curiously, she watched him as he pulled her along just a bit further away and neither of them were bothered by the fact that Nanami followed at a distance. When Itadori believed that their distance was enough from the rest, Nanami's footsteps ceased as well.

The blond shot the spirit a raised eyebrow, but it quickly fell back into its normal position when he turned to face the other students of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Menreiki turned her attention back to the young sorcerer, only to grimace and yank her hand away when she felt a pressure in the center of her hand. Itadori, too, swiftly pulled his hand away, almost screeching when he saw the familiar eye and mouth there. He pinched his hand as if that would make the King of Curses feel the pressure of his fingers, "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Let me talk to her!" Sukuna ignored his vessel, his mouth stretching at the corner at the thought of seeing her. Itadori started to deny the curse of his request, soft hisses coming out of him as they argued amongst one another. Menreiki only watched them with a curious look in her eyes before she eventually grabbed Itadori's wrist and made his palm face her.

Sukuna's eye narrowed, but it wasn't one of scrutiny. A light glimmer glinted in it as it paired with a simple curve of his lips, almost humanistic. His voice was gruff, rumbling, as he spoke, "Menreiki."

To Itadori, the way Sukuna spoke was no different than how he always did. He was always so demanding and uncouth with a tone that was cruel. His voice was always low, a drawl in his voice as he pulled along the vowels of his words. Word by word, Sukuna's voice sounded like pebbles being dragged on top of one another, scraping by, but even then, it was not one that could irritate anyone. Dripping from his tongue and past his lips, was an allure; it was almost seductive in the way it pulled others to him, convincing those who listened to give everything to him.

Sukuna wielded the charisma of a natural born leader, but Itadori did not know of the miniscule differences in him when the King bowed his head to his predecessor.

While unable to tell the change in his pitch, Sukuna's voice was subservient and willing as he called her name; it was an unspoken signal that he was there and ready for her even when he was not capable. Perhaps there was desperation in it, asking for her to say one word that would prompt him to swiftly take over his troublesome vessel, but Menreiki did not acknowledge it. There was an airy lilt, light and gentle in the way he said her name, letting it float in from his lips rather than biting it down to lower it where it should not be dragged by his tongue. He said her name plainly, but not because he wished not to see her, but because he knew that Menreiki should not hear the false temptation he dished to the rest.

Her name was spoken with, if examined closely, genuine adoration.

"Sukuna," Menreiki called his name, and the curse let out a grunt, urging her to speak more. All he got in return was her staring at him blankly, "I am speaking to the young sorcerer right now. Do not interrupt our conversation."