"Uraume, take good care of him."
Sukuna had said this countless times, yet Uraume nodded earnestly.
Before departing, Yukiori, standing beside Uraume, stepped forward but said nothing.
Could he say he didn't want Sukuna to leave? Would Sukuna even listen?
Over time, Yukiori had guessed what Sukuna did—his blood-soaked scent betrayed it all.
Perhaps Sukuna thought fresh clothes hid it well.
Sukuna hesitated, then said to Yukiori, "I'll return soon."
A promise.
Yukiori nodded, masking his reluctance and worry with a smile.
"I know."
"… "
"… "
Snow fell heavier, erasing Sukuna's footprints. Fluffy flakes melted in Yukiori's palm.
Since waking, a gnawing unease gripped him, a vague premonition.
He glanced at Uraume beside him, finding some comfort.
It'll be fine. Uraume's here. Nothing will happen.
Uraume said sorcerers wouldn't find this place.
Yukiori's tension was palpable, his eyes darting, hands clenched tight.
Uraume set down his jasmine tea, crouching before Yukiori. "No need to worry. It's safe here."
"Ah…"
Startled, Yukiori realized it was Uraume, feeling foolish. Perhaps he hadn't slept well?
Still…
He looked outside. "I just feel… uneasy."
Uraume took Yukiori's hands, knotted from nerves, red marks marring them.
No words of comfort, but the gesture calmed Yukiori's restless heart.
"Mm…"
Yukiori hummed softly, brushing Uraume's short hair by his ear—slightly grown out.
"Uraume…"
"… "
"Has anyone said this hairstyle suits you?"
"… No."
"Well, now they have!"
Yukiori's chatter warmed Uraume's face. He ducked shyly, wanting to stop him, yet…
He craved his voice.
Please stay like this…
Uraume prayed silently.
"At first, I thought you were a girl…"
Sukuna's address clarified Uraume was male. Yukiori hadn't asked directly—too impolite.
Uraume blinked. Many mistook him for a girl, but he'd never cared.
Until Yukiori mentioned it, prompting reflection.
"Do… you like girls?"
His voice faltered, unnoticed by himself.
Yukiori shook his head without pause. "As long as it's Uraume, I like you."
Like…
Like…
Uraume touched his burning face, eyes following Yukiori, who'd looked away.
Was this familial love?
Did Sukuna feel the same?
"Uraume… after this winter, I'll be fifteen."
Gazing at the snow, Yukiori spoke suddenly.
"How old are you?"
He'd never asked Uraume's age.
"Twelve."
"Had your birthday?"
"Yes."
Uraume looked outside. Born in snow, hence the name?
"Then…"
Yukiori paused. Uraume knew his question. "I don't know my lord's age, but…"
"He's likely younger than you."
Yukiori was stunned. The eldest-looking was younger?
"You're both so skilled. I've trained so long, but made no progress."
Yukiori deflated.
Uraume soothed, "My lord says you have talent. You'll succeed. You're still young."
At fifteen, Yukiori's androgyny had faded, youthful masculinity emerging, yet his face still captivated all.
He leaned quietly, Uraume staying by his side, undisturbed.
Without Sukuna, time dragged.
Something was missing…
...
Midnight
Yukiori jolted awake, rubbing his throbbing forehead, sitting up.
The pitch-black room sparked panic.
Barefoot, he ran downstairs, calming only at Uraume's sight.
Uraume, awake, opened his eyes at the sound, fetching a coat and shoes for Yukiori.
"Nightmare?"
Yukiori shook his head. "I woke suddenly. My heart's racing. Could something have happened to him?"
Yukiori's repeated unease furrowed Uraume's brow—not doubting him, but wondering if his premonition held truth.
Sukuna was strong, but if sorcerers attacked en masse, even he might not escape unscathed.
Yet Uraume trusted Sukuna wouldn't be reckless now, not after promising Yukiori a swift return.
Then what was it?
"Maybe I didn't sleep well. Sorry for worrying you."
"I just sensed… the cabin's surrounded by sorcerers."