Yukiori woke to a misty morning, frost glazing the window.
A fire crackled in the room.
Rising, he noticed a kimono by the bed, its style distinct from Sukuna's.
"Hm…"
Recalling Sukuna's attire, Yukiori realized his was a women's kimono, likely to conceal his extra arms, its loose fit more forgiving.
Yukiori touched the new kimono and decided to wear it—his old clothes no longer kept out the cold.
To his surprise, Uraume asked for his help today, making Yukiori feel useful.
While Yukiori dusted, Uraume eyed his new clothes, noting their fit.
He hadn't made a traditional kimono. This garment was snug, warm, and light, less cumbersome than a kimono's layers.
The pure white suited Yukiori, softening his presence, brightening the dim house.
There wasn't much dust—Uraume had already cleaned thoroughly.
Yukiori noticed but assumed the room was simply tidy.
"Don't you ever get bored doing this every day?"
Finished, Yukiori watched Uraume, who rarely seemed to rest.
"No."
Uraume was accustomed to this life. Afternoons, he trained by the river, honing his cursed energy control to master a domain sooner.
"Domain?"
Yukiori's eyes sparkled with curiosity. Uraume, flustered by the gaze, looked away, muttering, "A sorcerer's ultimate technique. Master a domain, and you're among the strongest."
But domains were rare, often grasped only at the edge of death.
"Becoming the strongest sorcerer? That's an amazing goal~"
"I'm a cursed sorcerer."
Uraume corrected him.
Yukiori shook his head, undeterred. "Cursed sorcerer or not, pursuing your dream with effort is admirable!"
Uraume wanted to say cursed sorcerers weren't as noble as Yukiori thought.
They killed, innocent or not.
Would Yukiori still hold this view then?
"… "
"… "
Often, only Uraume kept Yukiori company. Sukuna was frequently absent, returning with wounds.
The sorcerers must still be hunting him, Yukiori thought, glancing at Sukuna, now in fresh clothes.
Yet the scent of blood lingered, though Yukiori was growing used to it.
He approached, offering Sukuna a cup of hot tea to warm him—a small task he'd insisted on helping Uraume with.
Rain rustled outside, cold seeping through the window's cracks.
Likely the last rain before winter.
Holding his tea, Yukiori shivered as a gust slipped in.
Sukuna paused, then stood, moving to his side.
Yukiori rarely spent time alone with Sukuna, unsure what to say.
Uraume, though quiet, always responded, sometimes even asking questions.
By comparison, Yukiori felt closer to Uraume.
A wide outer robe landed on Yukiori, flung carelessly by Sukuna, covering his head.
"… "
Yukiori peeked out, lifting his pale green eyes to Sukuna, bewildered.
Like a cat…
For some reason, Sukuna thought of that frail creature.
"Aren't you cold?"
"How have you even survived?"
Sukuna slouched back, his voice lazy.
The robe warmed Yukiori, who pulled it closer, murmuring, "Thank you." It was cold.
He knew Sukuna was showing care, so he overlooked the hint of disdain in his tone.
Disdain was better than harshness.
Born frail, Yukiori had been coddled by his parents, masking his delicate health. In short: delicate.
At his soft thanks, Sukuna's gaze followed Yukiori's expression, then he scoffed, turning away.
Definitely a cat—a kitten without its claws.
Against sorcerers, Yukiori would be helpless, his cries for help mistaken for whining.
Sukuna couldn't deny Yukiori was the most beautiful person he'd seen, and the most stirring.
That face was like poison—one glance, unforgettable.
For someone like him, targeted by sorcerers, the outcome was obvious.
To Yukiori, his face wasn't a gift but a curse.
Lacking strength, he could only survive by relying on the powerful—
like a dodder vine.
Sukuna knew Yukiori wanted to escape, to live far from everyone.
But Yukiori couldn't even manage basic survival. Alone, he'd perish in some desolate mountain.
Imagining Yukiori's fate—leaving, only to face capture or death—irritated Sukuna, who raked his hair in frustration.
He realized Yukiori was tugging at his heart, and worse, he didn't mind. Dangerous.
Unbidden, Sukuna's eyes drifted to Yukiori across the room, freezing him.
Yukiori was sniffing the robe, trying to place its scent.
It was Sukuna's, worn often, though his fastidiousness meant he changed before outings, leaving no heavy bloodstains.
If there was a scent, it was only…
Sukuna: "… "
Asking for it back now would be awkward.
Covering his mouth, Sukuna felt restless for the first time.
Thankfully, Uraume returned, damp with mist.
He shut the door, but not before a chill slipped in.
Seeing Yukiori shiver again, Sukuna frowned, strode over, and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the fire.
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🤦 : Oops! You've reached the limit for today. But just for your power stone and recommendation I might— no I would add additional Chapter.
20PS — 1 additional Chapter
40PS — 2 additional Chapter and special mention if you've contributed 3 or more PS.
That's all. Enjoy Reading!