Perhaps with Yukiori's presence, Uraume felt this place resembled a "home."
The word made Uraume pause, hand stilling briefly before resuming.
What was he thinking…
A faint fragrance filled the house. Yukiori, fresh from washing, stepped out of his room.
Without looking up, Uraume said, "My lord says no training today. You can rest for a few days."
Yukiori, just seated, froze, glancing at Sukuna's usual spot—empty. No bowl or chopsticks were set, signaling Sukuna's absence.
And from Uraume's words, he'd be gone a while.
Where would he go now?
Yukiori recalled that neither Sukuna nor Uraume were ordinary, a fact the recent calm had made him forget.
"He'll come back safely."
"Right?"
Uraume had said Sukuna was strong, and Yukiori had seen it, but worry gnawed at him.
Uraume meant to say Sukuna was invincible, but softened it: "My lord will return safely."
Reassured, Yukiori began eating.
Afterward, he sat by the bed, staring at the white expanse outside. Beyond the three of them, nothing living stirred.
"Sitting by the window will make you sick."
Uraume brought a steaming tea cup, its insulated walls perfect for warming hands.
Yukiori's chilled fingers eased. He tilted his head, smiling at Uraume. "Thank you, Uraume. You're always so thoughtful."
Uraume tucked his hands away, expressionless, staying by Yukiori's side, waiting for Sukuna.
He often said such things but never stopped Yukiori's actions, quietly handling aftermaths and preparations.
Yukiori often asked if he was a burden. Usually, Uraume didn't reply; sometimes, he'd say "No."
Uraume's true thought? Not troublesome at all.
Yukiori would spend afternoons alone in a corner to avoid being a nuisance, offering a sheepish smile if caught, or nearly cry when his help backfired.
If anything…
Beautiful and fragile—those described Yukiori.
At first, Uraume was swayed by Yukiori's face, but time revealed a kind, pure soul.
Uraume had never met someone so untainted, yet so ill-treated by the world.
In that moment, Uraume's thoughts aligned with Sukuna's.
Yukiori should be protected, living carefree and joyful.
"… "
Night fell, the window a void, visibility barely half a meter.
Uraume closed it, halting Yukiori's vigil.
"My lord wouldn't want you sick. Time for bed. Drink ginger tea first."
He added, "This one's improved—no strong ginger taste."
Yukiori's eyes dimmed as the window shut. He'd grown used to Sukuna's presence.
At "ginger tea," his face twisted.
Uraume, ever quiet, just watched, knowing Yukiori's soft heart wouldn't let him leave Uraume standing.
As expected, Yukiori drank it.
Uraume hadn't lied—the ginger was faint, less sharp.
But next time…
Maybe skip it?
Uraume smiled. "If you don't linger by the window so long next time."
"… "
Sukuna returned three days later. Yukiori spotted him first, ignoring Uraume's protests, throwing on a coat and running out.
In winter's bitterest half-month, his clothes soaked through instantly.
Sukuna saw the white figure racing toward him, instinctively opening his arms to catch Yukiori.
His clothes were cool, but his body radiated heat.
"You shouldn't have come out."
Sukuna frowned, his tone sharp.
In moments, Yukiori's warmth drained. Sukuna tucked him close.
He didn't use cursed energy—not for lack of want.
Three days and nights of battle left him too drained. Holding Yukiori was the quickest way to warm him.
Pressed against Sukuna's chest, Yukiori caught the heavy scent of blood, shifting uncomfortably. His muffled voice said, "You promised to teach me to be a sorcerer."
"I did."
"But I haven't seen you in so long."
"… "
Sukuna paused, walking on, glancing at Uraume waiting ahead. "It's only been three days."
The reminder made three days feel like ages.
Sukuna knew his bloodthirsty nature reveled in slaughter's thrill.
Sometimes, he thought the sorcerers were right—he was a freak, savoring it.
"My lord, hot water's ready."
Uraume bowed respectfully, stepping aside.
"Hm."
After Sukuna left, Uraume draped another coat over Yukiori, guiding him to the hearth.
"You shouldn't be so reckless. My lord will be fine."
"I know…"
Candlelight flickered on Yukiori's bright face, hiding his wistful eyes.
He'd just… missed him.
Even Yukiori didn't understand his impulsive dash, pure instinct.
Upstairs, Sukuna wondered if he'd been gone too long.
Before Yukiori, he'd vanish for weeks without returning.
Later, Uraume tapped Yukiori's shoulder as he dozed.
Yukiori jolted, ready to say he'd sleep, but Uraume said, "If you're not tired, my lord says you can join him now."