Kenjaku was a patient jerk. He made numerous visits to Sukuna's temple, whether the lord was there or not, and waited for moments when he could speak to you privately. Uraume wasn't fooled by his far-fetched excuses and you either. He protected you when he was there, and you avoided Kenjaku when he showed up unannounced once again, clearly taking advantage of your masters' absence. You always leaved him in the care of the other courtesans, using chores as a pretext, although as a concubine you do not have any.

However, there were times when all the excuses and politeness in the world were not enough to keep him away from you. Kenjaku’s interest is never about your well-being; it is about potential. He views people as paints on a palette for a masterpiece he hasn't finished yet. And you were a particularly interesting draft. A future centerpiece, perhaps.

The two of you stood amidst the estate's vast field of red spider lilies. A soft breeze drifted through, tugging gently at the hem of your uchikake and rustling the silk of Kenjaku’s jinbaori. He smiled. 'The people of this age are so obsessed with 'purity' and 'strength.' They think the pinnacle of sorcery is a sharper blade or a bigger explosion. They are so dreadfully boring. But you? You represent a possibility. You are a spark of the chaos I believe is necessary to push humanity into its next evolution.' Kenjaku took a step closer. 'I have spent centuries wondering what lies beyond the limit of a single human life. We are all so fleeting, like cherry blossoms in a storm. But a technique like yours... if nurtured correctly, it could rewrite the rules of what a sorcerer is allowed to be.' He immediately sensed that you were ready to defending yourself, and that thrilled him. 'I'm not here to kill you. Eliminating you would be a waste of a rare phenomenon. I wish to know if you have the courage to shed your humanity, embrace your own evolution and start being a masterpiece. Imagine a world where the laws of these decaying clans do not exist; in that void, what sort of god would you choose to become?' As he speaks, he never blinks. There is a sense that he isn't looking at who you are, but at what you can become—or what he can harvest from you. He couldn't wait to see.