After discovering Yukiori's aversion to ginger, Uraume experimented with other teas.
Learning Yukiori's preferences, Uraume chose jasmine.
Soon, Yukiori carried the scent of jasmine, as if steeped in it.
Only he remained unaware.
Deciding to stay, Yukiori grew eager to help Uraume, though his efforts sometimes fell short.
Each morning, Sukuna woke to Yukiori trailing Uraume, who stood two heads shorter.
"Uraume."
Uraume, holding a flowerpot, and Yukiori, face smudged with dirt, looked up simultaneously.
Sukuna: "… "
"Clean him up, then send him to my room."
Yukiori glanced at his muddy clothes. He'd meant to help Uraume repot plants, but the pot tipped, dousing him.
After tidying, Yukiori approached Sukuna's room alone.
Before he could knock, Sukuna opened the door.
Backlit, Sukuna's shadow loomed, engulfing Yukiori in darkness.
Without lingering, Sukuna turned and walked back inside.
Yukiori's first clear view of Sukuna's room revealed its spareness—nothing special, not even a bed as soft as his own.
To Sukuna, a place to sleep sufficed.
Yukiori stepped in cautiously, his gaze flicking to Sukuna, darting away when Sukuna looked back.
"Want to become a sorcerer?"
By the bed, Sukuna raised a hand, a flame of cursed energy flickering in his palm.
Yukiori stared, nodding without hesitation, then faltered, doubting himself.
Could he really become a sorcerer?
He knew nothing…
"If you want, I'll teach you."
Sukuna saw Yukiori's weakness, his inability to protect himself, and wanted him to become a sorcerer.
As Uraume said, by Sukuna's side, Yukiori was safe.
In a few years, once Sukuna mastered his domain, no sorcerer could challenge him.
But Sukuna also wanted Yukiori to find his own worth, to pursue his desires, not merely depend on others.
He sensed this was Yukiori's true wish—a relationship of equals.
Without his parents' shelter, Yukiori was frail, lost, clinging to a false savior.
That person's malice taught Yukiori the cruelty of hearts.
Yet Yukiori didn't succumb. He fled that crafted cage, refusing to be anyone's captive.
Sukuna thought this timid boy was stronger than he seemed.
So…
He wanted to see what Yukiori could become. He looked forward to that day.
Ordinary people couldn't become sorcerers, but Yukiori wasn't ordinary.
Not all could see cursed spirits, yet Yukiori did, with a pure heart—proof of his potential.
Yukiori spoke: "That'd make me a cursed sorcerer, right?"
Sukuna looked at him.
"Uraume's a cursed sorcerer. You are too, my lord. So I should be one as well."
Yukiori smiled as he spoke. To him, cursed sorcerers and sorcerers were the same—closer to Sukuna and Uraume.
Sukuna averted his gaze. "You can't bear the weight of being a cursed sorcerer."
It meant facing the sorcerer world's pursuit, a life on the run.
"You can call me by my name."
My lord felt… awkward.
Yukiori blinked, asking, "But staying with you, won't I be seen as a cursed sorcerer too?"
Sukuna paused. True enough.
Yukiori was already tainted by association.
He seemed… pleased by it?
As for Sukuna's last remark, Yukiori either didn't hear or ignored it, dropping my lord but never using Sukuna's name.
That afternoon, Sukuna explained everything about sorcerers to Yukiori.
Yukiori didn't know this was Sukuna's first time showing such patience, or speaking so much.
Leaving, Yukiori's mind reeled, struggling to process Sukuna's teachings, so foreign to him.
Unlike the polished theories of pampered sorcerers, Sukuna's battle-honed mastery made his guidance vivid and sharp.
When Uraume learned Sukuna's plan, he began teaching Yukiori too.
Mornings, Yukiori studied with Uraume; afternoons, he spent in Sukuna's room.
Uraume brought jasmine tea occasionally, leaving them undisturbed.
Cursed energy stemmed from the soul. To awaken it, one must feel and know their soul.
"Give me your hand."
Sukuna said. This time, Yukiori offered it without hesitation.
As their hands clasped, Sukuna glimpsed Yukiori's soul—pure white, untainted, newborn.
Yukiori saw Sukuna's soul too.
In that moment, they resonated truly.
Opening his eyes, Yukiori nearly collapsed from weakness.
Sukuna caught him, steadying him. This was the cost—his mental strength was too frail.
"I was too hasty."
"It's not you… I'm too weak."
Yukiori felt guilty, slowing their progress.
"It's not your fault. As long as you don't give up, my promise stands."
Too weak to stand, Yukiori leaned into Sukuna's chest. Hearing this, he looked up. "If I give up, will you think I'm… cowardly?"
Sukuna thought, Probably not.
He'd given Yukiori the choice, indifferent to the outcome.
---
Translator's Note:
"Feeling wholesome? Hehh...