If this could last forever, living here might not be so bad… Sukuna watched the scene, a peace settling over his face he didn't even notice.
At a playful age, Yukiori forgot his frail health, ready to roll in the snow.
But he didn't succeed—Sukuna, just stepping out, caught him in the act.
Before Sukuna could speak, Yukiori bowed his head.
"I'm sorry!"
Sukuna: …
What could he say to that?
Seeing Sukuna wasn't angry, Yukiori exhaled quietly.
To Yukiori, Sukuna was as daunting as a stern elder, though he hadn't realized Sukuna was younger than him.
Sukuna's unearthly appearance, robust frame, and height masked his age.
Yukiori's hair fluttered, grazing Sukuna's fingertips. He watched him run off, then turned sharply toward an empty distance.
A glint of malice flashed in Sukuna's red eyes as he spoke to Uraume: "Protect him well. My cursed energy should hold a bit longer."
"Yes, my lord."
Uraume followed Yukiori closely after Sukuna left.
The forest was blanketed in snow, crunching underfoot with each step.
Uraume stayed a few paces behind, close enough to reach Yukiori swiftly.
Yukiori loved snowy days but rarely played like this, his weak body keeping him indoors, watching other children.
Memories dimmed his smile, replaced by sorrow.
"Uraume…"
Uraume looked up.
Snow fell on Yukiori, melting instantly under Sukuna's cursed energy.
"I once wanted to die, but my mother told me to live."
So Yukiori kept trying.
"That day I met Lord Sukuna, I planned to ruin this face."
By chance, Sukuna brought him here, and he met Uraume.
"Luck finally found me."
Yukiori shared his heart, Uraume listening quietly.
When Yukiori finished, Uraume said, "Only those with ugly hearts become twisted monsters. Without you, they'd still destroy themselves someday."
To Uraume, Yukiori was a fruit that tempted the deepest sins—yet those with pure hearts remained untouched.
"And my lord and I aren't affected, are we?"
Were they truly unaffected?
Uraume asked himself, eyes lowered, after speaking.
He wasn't sure, but he and Sukuna were different from them. That, Uraume knew.
"So…"
"By my lord's side, there's no calamity."
Sukuna was calamity, unafraid of it.
And Yukiori wasn't calamity.
Yukiori paused, grasping Uraume's meaning.
"Always being protected… I feel guilty for doing nothing."
You need do nothing. Just stand there, and countless would rush to protect, possess, or destroy you.
"What if it's willing?"
"What if they bear no resentment?"
"That's impossible…"
Uraume's unwavering gaze made Yukiori realize it wasn't a jest.
"… "
Snow fell silently, but Yukiori's heart thundered, a chaotic rhythm.
"… "
"We've been out long. Let's head back."
Yukiori spoke first. He knew Uraume wanted him to stay, and his heart already loved this place.
He liked Uraume's cold face yet meticulous care, so young yet so mature—adorable.
And him—gruff words hiding concern.
To stay or not, his heart already held the answer.
"Wait…"
"Let's play a bit more. There's a spring ahead—you haven't seen it."
"Want to go?"
At the mention of a spring, Yukiori's eyes lit up. At home, he'd played by warm springs, their waters soothing.
He missed Uraume's fleeting unease, as if delaying their return.
Uraume glanced back, then followed Yukiori toward the spring.
Moments earlier, Uraume had sensed sorcerers nearing their home. Sukuna had too.
Now, Sukuna was dealing with them.
If Yukiori saw that carnage, he'd faint again—his courage was small.
When Uraume brought Yukiori back, it was over. Only faint blood in the cold air hinted at the one-sided slaughter.
Sukuna had drawn the fight elsewhere to hide blood and bodies.
Yukiori returned to see Sukuna descending the stairs, his clothes seemingly fresh.
But Sukuna's robes looked alike, so Yukiori thought he'd misremembered.
"So cold…"
As Sukuna's cursed energy faded, Yukiori murmured, rubbing his hands, chilled by Sukuna's lingering cold.
Fresh from the snow, Sukuna carried winter's bite.
At his words, Sukuna glanced at Yukiori, then turned and went upstairs.
Uraume brought steaming ginger tea. "Rest well."
Yukiori didn't understand Sukuna's abrupt exit—down and up again?
But seeing the tea, his pretty face scrunched. "Can I skip it?"
His voice was a whisper, tentative.
Uraume stared, silent.
After minutes of standoff, Yukiori surrendered, downing the tea with a grimace, coughing as tears stung his eyes.
So bitter.
Uraume eyed the tea, skeptical. That bad?
He'd added plenty of sugar…