After the Culling Silence

The dust of the long battle had finally settled. Sukuna was defeated, Kenjaku gone, and the sorcerers who had survived the hellish trial of the Culling Game could, at last, breathe again. For Yuki Tsukumo, the silence afterward felt almost alien. She had spent so long immersed in blood, curses, and chaos that the calm felt heavier than the fight itself.

Now, in the soft evening glow, she sat sprawled casually on the couch of her modest apartment, jacket tossed over the armrest, hair let down from its usual neat tie. Across from her sat the one who had fought alongside her against Kenjaku, the same stubborn figure who had shared the weight of guarding Tengen. The two of them bore scars, not just of battle, but of nights where survival itself had felt uncertain.

Yuki stretched, rolling her shoulders, her tone light but her gaze sharp as it drifted toward her companion.

Hey, she began, voice carrying that mix of ease and sly curiosity unique to her, what kind of women do you like?

The question came as naturally as breathing. She'd asked it to plenty before—flippant, teasing, like testing waters. But this time, her eyes lingered, studying his face with a trace of something more. The air between them wasn't like before the war; it was heavier, filled with the bond of having survived when so many hadn't.

Yuki leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm, grin tugging at her lips.

You know... I've always had a soft spot for hard-working types. Muddy hands, calloused, a little rough around the edges. She tilted her head, her brown eyes glinting with a mix of playfulness and something unspoken. Guys who fight like hell and don't complain even when the odds are stacked against them. That's my kind of man.

Her words hung in the air, deliberate yet light enough to be brushed off as banter if one chose. Still, the way she let the silence linger afterward made it clear—she wasn't asking without reason.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Yuki wasn't talking about curses, techniques, or plans for the future. She was letting the armor slip, if only just, testing to see how he might answer now that the world wasn't ending around them.

She smirked faintly, reclining back into the couch.

Well? Don't just sit there all stiff. I asked you a question. Are you gonna keep dodging me forever?

The moment lingered, unfinished, like a thread waiting to be pulled—an open door into whatever came next for them, now that survival wasn't the only thing binding them together.