Would he kill to silence him? After all, Yukiori had seen too much…
Clenching his fists, Yukiori watched the cursed sorcerer approach, his face taut with fear and tension.
Perhaps from days without rest and the shock, Yukiori fainted.
Looking at the boy collapsed on the ground, confusion flickered in the cursed sorcerer's eyes. Was he that terrifying?
"… "
Recalling the horrified looks of civilians and sorcerers, he glanced at his blood-soaked form. Perhaps he was a bit frightening.
"… "
...
Warm sunlight grazed his face, jolting Yukiori from sleep. In his dream's final moment, he'd been killed by the cursed sorcerer.
But opening his eyes, he realized it was only a dream.
The sight before him stunned him. He was in a wooden house, its furnishings bearing traces of long habitation.
"My lord, he's awake."
A cool, clear voice. Yukiori turned to see a child with a white bob haircut standing at the door, holding a cup of tea.
The child's androgynous voice and appearance made it hard to discern their gender, though their delicate features were striking, albeit expressionless.
A thud came from outside. The child paused, then handed Yukiori the tea.
"My lord saved you. You should be grateful."
Someone had saved him? Who?
A sorcerer?
Yukiori thought of Momoto, the hypocrite, but this setting and the child's demeanor suggested his savior wasn't cruel.
"Don't worry, you're safe here. No one will harm you."
Sensing Yukiori's tension, the child spoke with a mature air, trying to comfort him.
But after speaking, they froze, as if puzzled by their own concern for this stranger.
"Thank you for saving me… I'm Hananochi Yukiori."
"Call me Uraume."
Uraume's gaze lingered on Yukiori's pale face, recalling how their lord had carried him back.
Never had Uraume seen their lord show such… kindness to an ordinary human, not a sorcerer.
Their lord despised all living things, so Yukiori's presence here astonished Uraume.
But…
As Uraume took the empty cup, amidst Yukiori's shy thanks, they understood why their lord had softened.
He was truly beautiful, like his name—a flower blooming in snow.
Footsteps approached. Uraume announced, "My lord is here," then stepped back respectfully and left.
Seconds later, a figure in a white kimono entered.
Seeing that face, Yukiori shot up from the bed, only to collapse from weakness, staring in terror.
He'd never forget that face—the cursed sorcerer who'd slain a dozen sorcerers!
Uraume said their lord had saved him. Could it… could it really be this cursed sorcerer?
Though loath to admit it, ignoring that he'd fainted from fear, Yukiori had indeed been saved by him.
"You…"
If he forgot last night's bloodshed, Yukiori wouldn't fear this cursed sorcerer. His unusual appearance meant little.
"Wait!"
As the sorcerer turned to leave, Yukiori shouted, his voice carrying to Uraume outside.
This sorcerer hadn't meant him harm. Last night, those men had tried to kill him—perhaps he'd only fought back out of necessity.
Not all sorcerers were good, after all…
This one had saved him, and Yukiori's reaction must have stung.
Trembling, he feigned calm and called out.
"I… I don't know your name, my lord. I'm Hananochi Yukiori. Thank you for saving me last night!"
Bowing deeply, Yukiori couldn't see the sorcerer's expression. The room fell silent, his heart pounding in his throat.
After a long pause, a low, raspy voice replied, "No need to thank me."
He knew Yukiori had fainted from his presence. Without him, there'd have been no fright.
"No… my lord, you did save me."
Yukiori insisted.
Had he lain unconscious there, who knows what might have happened.
"I thought you feared me."
Yukiori cautiously raised his head, studying his savior.
Last night's darkness had obscured him, but now he saw a boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, with short, cherry-blossom-like hair.
The kimono hid his extra arms, its loose fit masking anything odd.
His youthful face bore an awkward expression, as if struggling to speak.
"I was scared, but not anymore."
Yukiori smiled faintly.
He sensed no malice from this sorcerer or Uraume. Their gazes held none of the sickening intent he'd known.
He believed them good, trustworthy.
That trusting smile made the sorcerer's eyes flicker. Never had he been looked at this way.
People called him a monster, drove him out, tried to kill him…
"My lord…"
"Ryomen Sukuna. My name."
Yukiori nodded. "Lord Sukuna."
The title warmed Sukuna's ears. He'd wanted Yukiori to use his name, not a formal title like Uraume's.
"Hm."
"Rest now."
"Call Uraume if you need anything."
Uraume? Thinking of the child, barely ten, Yukiori waved his hands. "How could I trouble a child to care for me…"
"He's not as weak as you think."
Sukuna tucked his hands in his sleeves, glancing at Uraume outside.
"He's… a sorcerer too?"
No, if Sukuna was a cursed sorcerer, Uraume must be one too.
Yukiori studied Uraume, stunned that this child was a cursed sorcerer.
How could ones so young be cursed sorcerers?
Cursed sorcerers—outcasts who rejected the sorcerer's honor, slaughtering civilians and even their own kind. Gifted with cursed energy, they wielded it for dark ends.
More demonic than any sorcerer.