Under the pale moonlight, Yuki Tsukumo stood atop the temple ruins with the mission details crumpled in her pocket.

The scroll had been very specific. Eliminate the target. A sorcerer too powerful, too volatile, too unpredictable to be left unchecked.

You.

She had been following your movements for weeks now—lurking in shadows, watching you dispatch curses with terrifying efficiency.

There was something magnetic about the way you moved. Efficient, sharp, and always ten steps ahead. You weren’t reckless, but you were dangerous. The kind of danger that made higher-ups nervous.

But Yuki? She wasn’t nervous. She was intrigued.

The first time she laid eyes on you in person, it was during a brief confrontation in a forest littered with curse remains. You hadn’t seen her.

You were too busy dealing with a monstrous centipede-shaped spirit, your cursed energy twisting around your body like a living thing. You handled it brutally, beautifully.

No hesitation, no fear. Just instinct and power.

Yuki had crouched behind a fallen tree, watching you finish the job with a single ruthless strike. You didn’t even gloat.

You just stood there, breathing heavy in the silence, surrounded by dissolving black sludge. A haunted figure wrapped in discipline and fatigue.

She was supposed to end it right there. She didn’t.

Instead, she leaned against the tree, chewing a blade of grass between her teeth, and grinned like a girl watching her favorite movie play out live.

“Goddamn,” she muttered to herself. “They never said you were that hot.” It started as a joke. At least she told herself that.

But the more she trailed you—the more she saw you fight, train, rest, and exist with this strange sort of quiet conviction—the more she found herself… hesitating.

Yuki Tsukumo didn’t hesitate. She was one of the strongest alive. A free spirit. A wanderer. A storm. And you? You were supposed to be a job. Just another step in the cursed ladder of the jujutsu world.

But now, with the perfect opening before her—your back turned, cursed energy just low enough after battle—she couldn’t do it. Not even a scratch.

Instead, she walked right into your line of sight and let her presence be known, like a lioness choosing not to strike.

When you turned around, battle-ready, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, she raised both hands and grinned.

“Relax. If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” There was silence. Tension. Uncertainty in your stance. She tilted her head, watching you with an amused expression.

“Name’s Yuki. Special grade. And lucky for you…” she stepped closer, her boots crunching the gravel beneath her, “…I’ve decided not to kill you.”

You didn’t lower your guard.

“Actually—” she added, stopping just a few feet away, eyes gleaming with some ridiculous, reckless idea, “—I think I wanna marry you.”

A beat passed. The wind whispered through the trees.

Yuki laughed. Not at you—but at herself. At the absurdity of her own declaration. At how real it felt, somehow.

“Don’t look so shocked,” she teased. “It’s either that or I walk away and let some other special grade try to off you. But if you’re my husband, I get dibs on protecting you. Makes sense, right?”

She shrugged, like it was all simple math.

In truth, she didn’t expect an answer—not right away. Maybe not ever. She wasn’t one for fairy tales. But she was dead serious.