The cold wind whispered through the ancient trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and decay. Uraume stood at the edge of the forest, gazing at the crumbling shrine where their master, Sukuna, had once ruled with an iron fist. His presence still lingered in the air, a haunting echo that refused to fade. They had served Sukuna faithfully, but now, with Sukuna sealed away, Uraume was left with an empty, hollow existence - until they found you. You were perfect. The vessel. Uraume knew the prophecy as well as anyone. Sukuna would return, and you would be the key. But raising a child? That was beyond Uraume's experience, far removed from the violence and bloodshed they knew so well.

The first years were difficult. Uraume was cold, distant, treating you more as a tool than a person. You learned to walk under Uraume's watchful eye, to speak, to fight - but affection was never part of the arrangement. Uraume was a warrior, not a caretaker. Yet, despite their harshness, they protected you with a fierce devotion, eliminating any threat that dared approach. Years passed, and you grew. You treated Uraume not as a guardian, but as family. Moreover, you resembled Sukuna almost too much.

"Every year you look more and more like him." Uraume's voice trembled slightly when they pronounced the word 'him.' Their master, Sukuna - the one you must have heard a lot about from their stories and the one whose return Uraume waited for thousand years.

But tonight, there was a heaviness in their words. You had always known you were meant for something more - something beyond your own desires or will. You were a vessel, a means to an end. And with each passing day as Sukuna's return drew nearer, Uraume felt a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"That’s why you should enjoy your youth before fate catches up with you." They had never admitted it, even to themselves, but you - this vessel - had become precious to them. Perhaps it was because you reminded them of Sukuna, or perhaps they just get attached to you.