Author's Note: Yay! Chapter 11 is being worked on at this moment!! I think you guys will really like it :D
Days later, Sukuna moved about the house, his actions almost unconscious. There was something different about this place, and he couldn't put his finger on it. He found himself tidying things, adjusting curtains, and straightening ornaments, never realizing that his actions were primarily for Cinderella's sake.
One day, he noticed a curtain that hung slightly askew. He reached out and gently folded it back into place, his fingers grazing the fabric delicately. As he stepped back to admire his work, his eyes settled on Cinderella. She was engrossed in making a list of chores, and something about her presence fascinated him.
Through his eyes, Cinderella appeared almost otherworldly. Her radiant blonde hair caught the soft light, forming a halo of golden strands that framed her delicate face. A few loose face framing strands fell near her rosy, blushing cheeks, creating an enchanting contrast.
Sukuna couldn't help but watch in fascination as her dainty, delicate fingers reached out to pick up the quill. Her touch on the parchment was as gentle as a whisper, and her grasp on the quill was a testament to her innate grace. With each stroke, her handwriting mirrored the softness of her touch, every curve and line imbued with the same tenderness that seemed to define her very essence.
As she meticulously listed the necessities - eggs, flour, and other basics - the parchment seemed to come alive with the elegance of her penmanship. Her handwriting was as soft as her voice, as though she were whispering her desires onto the paper. The words flowed effortlessly from her, a testament to her innate gentleness and the care she put into every task.
There was an air of innocence and purity about her, an almost ethereal quality that drew Sukuna in with an irresistible allure. It was as if she embodied the very essence of beauty and grace, capturing his attention and holding it with a captivating charm that left him utterly mesmerized.
However, his trance was abruptly shattered when he noticed Cinderella's sudden, hurried movements – something Sukuna was becoming accustomed to. In an instant, she reached for a nearby thick cloak, pulling it tightly around her delicate frame as if trying to conceal herself from prying eyes. The cloak's heavy fabric enveloped her, obscuring her appearance like a protective shroud.
Sukuna couldn't help but furrow his brow slightly in confusion, his earlier fascination now replaced with intrigue. He observed as she meticulously arranged the cloak, ensuring that not a single strand of her golden hair or a fraction of her elegant figure was visible to the outside world. Her actions spoke of modesty and a desire to keep herself hidden from curious gazes, adding another layer of nuance to her character that intrigued him even further. He chuckled to himself, thinking, "She's so modest."
With the list grasped delicately in her hand and her cloak meticulously concealing her ethereal beauty, Cinderella left for the market. Sukuna, initially hesitant about following her, found himself unable to resist the pull of his own curiosity. It was as if his body acted independently, responding to an irresistible force that guided him to follow her, all while his mind grappled with the unbidden impulse.
Remaining hidden within the shadows, Sukuna trailed Cinderella as she gracefully moved through the bustling town. Each step she took, each gesture she made, held an entrancing quality that seemed to captivate his very being. He didn't want to follow her, but it was as though he had no control over his own actions, his fascination overriding any hesitation.
Cinderella's movements were a silent, delicate dance through the dusty town. Her steps, light as a feather, barely left an imprint on the ground. As she gracefully moved her hands, adjusting her hood and cloak to conceal herself further, Sukuna found himself utterly captivated by her fidgeting. Every small gesture she made held a unique allure, and he couldn't help but watch her closely, even though she kept to herself and the townspeople remained indifferent to her presence.
Amidst the bustling market, Sukuna suddenly heard the grumbles of a man, his slurred words and erratic movements catching his attention. The altercation unfolded before his eyes as the drunkard had cornered a fruit vendor, his agitated behavior causing a growing commotion. Things took a tense turn when the drunkard carelessly bumped into Cinderella, causing her hood to slip off her head. In an instant, her radiant blonde hair gleamed like a halo in the bright sunlight, and the drunkard's voice rang out, venomous and loud, "The Cursed Child! You!" Cinderella's face darkened, hollowed instantly. Sukuna then realized her meticulous wardrobe change was for the sake of concealment instead of modesty.
As the drunkard's accusation echoed through the market square, a hushed rustle surged through the crowd, like dry leaves quivering in an autumn breeze. Fingers pointed like accusing arrows, and curious eyes shifted towards Cinderella. Whispers, like the distant murmur of a river, slithered through the gathering. The crowd, fueled by the salacious gossip that had spread like wildfire throughout the town, believed her to be the cursed child, the alleged harbinger of her family's ruin and her father's tragic demise.
Cinderella's world felt like it was closing in, the suffocating weight of judgment pressing down upon her. Her breaths grew shallow and rapid, each inhalation tinged with anxiety as she clenched the edges of her cloak, her knuckles whitening in the process. The beads of sweat on her forehead glistened like delicate pearls in the midday sun, betraying her rising distress to anyone observant enough. Her once-confident stride now wavered, and she stumbled over the cobblestones as she attempted to distance herself from the hostile glares, her movements uncertain and hesitant.
As the crowd's collective fury intensified, one of the nearby merchants, a portly man with a bushy mustache and a round belly, could no longer tolerate Cinderella's presence in front of his humble fruit stand. He raised his voice, his jowls quivering with agitation, and waved a plump finger at her.
He screamed, "You there! Girl! You're nothing but bad luck! You'll ruin my business with your cursed shadow!"
Cinderella, her voice quivering and almost inaudible amid the chaos, attempted to respond, her words nothing more than a trembling murmur, lost in the tumultuous sea of accusations and condemnation. The oppressive weight of the crowd bore down on her, threatening to engulf her in a suffocating abyss of anxiety and despair. Her chest tightened, her breaths came in ragged gasps, and she felt as though the world was closing in around her, leaving her trapped in a nightmarish spiral of fear and helplessness.
The merchant, his face twisted in disgust, reached for a nearby glass bottle, snatching it from a crate with a snarl. He held it aloft, brandishing it menacingly in Cinderella's direction. The glint of desperation and anger flickered in his eyes as he took a threatening step closer.
He bellowed, "I won't tolerate your cursed presence any longer!"
As the situation escalated, Sukuna, concealed in the shadows, found his anger reaching a boiling point. How could anyone dare to threaten Cinderella, this girl who is so kind? With his patience finally snapped, he could no longer remain hidden. His presence burst forth like an unleashed tempest, his aura radiating anger and power, and he emerged from the concealment of the shadows.
Sukuna, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, made his presence known with a snarky tone. His voice carried a biting edge, far from calm, as he addressed the growing crowd.
Sukuna's voice, sharper than ever, "Oh, what a splendid gathering of townsfolk we have here, isn't it? A grand spectacle for a little mishap."
His words dripped with sarcasm and disdain, showing little concern for the brewing conflict.
From the crowd, a voice pierced the tension, addressing Sukuna with a mocking tone.
A woman replied, "Look at that, defending the cursed child, are we? Must be either terribly bored out of your mind or drowning in loneliness to keep such company."
Sukuna's eyes narrowed, the snarky comments slicing through his composure like a blade. His chest tightened, and a storm of emotions raged within him. The echoes of their words stirred a deep well of loneliness, a sense of isolation he had chosen to endure over the centuries.
"Loneliness... Is that what they think of me? I chose solitude!" Sukuna's inner turmoil sturred.
His rage erupted like a tempest, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth. His voice echoed through the marketplace, resonating like thunderclaps in a turbulent storm. As his anger surged, his once-human visage distorted, his features contorting into something more sinister. The very air around him crackled with malevolent energy, and his markings blazed to life, crawling across his skin like living shadows.
The townspeople, cowering before the unleashed fury of a demon, let out frantic cries filled with fear. They spat dark names associated with the underworld, their voices quivering as they invoked curses and prayers for protection. The crowd, unable to endure the overwhelming intensity of his aura, scattered in all directions like leaves in a vicious wind.
But even after the townsfolk had fled, the remnants of Sukuna's overwhelming presence lingered like a palpable darkness, casting a long shadow over the once-bustling marketplace. The very ground beneath him seemed tainted by his demonic aura, as if the very earth itself recoiled in the wake of his wrath.
In the aftermath of the chaos, an eerie silence hung in the air, so profound that it felt as if even silence itself had ceased to exist. The world seemed to hold its breath, caught in a moment of suspended animation.
Amid this lingering hush, Sukuna felt an almost imperceptible tap on his shoulder, like a fragile whisper in the stillness. It was a touch so delicate that it defied the tumultuous events that had just unfolded. In response, Sukuna's expression contorted in a grimace of residual anger, his eyes still smoldering with the embers of his rage. He growled at Cinderella, his frustration an almost tangible force, swirling around him like a tempest.
However, Cinderella remained steadfast in the face of his fury. Her golden hair, stirred by the residual energy and growl, moved with the grace of willow branches swaying in the breeze. She stood there, unwavering and unblinking, her gaze fixed on him with a steadfast determination that transcended mere courage.
Their eyes locked in an unbreakable embrace, and it felt as if time itself had ground to a halt, leaving only this singular moment suspended in the tapestry of existence. The world around them ceased to exist, and they were the sole occupants of this ethereal space.
In the depths of Cinderella's gaze, Sukuna found himself lost, swimming through a vast ocean of emotions, each one a brushstroke on the canvas of her soul. But amid this myriad of feelings, there was a glaring absence—a void where hatred and fear should have resided, but didn't. There was no trace of apprehension or loathing toward the man who was, by all accounts, a demon.
Instead, her eyes held a profound wellspring of understanding, as if she possessed the key to unlocking the mysteries of his existence. Within that gaze, there was an untamed compassion that defied logic and reason, a tenderness that left Sukuna bewildered and vulnerable, like a solitary ship navigating uncharted waters.
Sukuna finally spoke, his voice filled with bitterness. "Don't you know what I am now?" he spat. "Run off. Like the rest. Let me be alone."
Cinderella sternly voiced, "I will not leave you."
Cinderella's unwavering determination shone through her eyes and her words as she refused to back down. Sukuna, his voice tinged with both anger and resignation, tried to convince her that she must leave. "I am but a lowly demon," he protested, "and you, Cinderella, should not be associated with the likes of me."
Cinderella, however, was unyielding. With a soft but resolute tone, she invoked their earlier conversation about the bubble. "Do you remember that bubble?" she asked, her voice steady and calm amid the tempestuous emotions. "You, Sukuna, are like that bubble. I see straight through your exterior, and I know that your angry facade can pop in an instant."
For a moment, Sukuna was taken aback, a ripple of incredulous laughter bubbling up within him. He couldn't help but let out a mighty laugh, rich with the irony of the situation. Here he was, the feared demon king, compared to something as fragile as a bubble. But as his laughter echoed in the stillness of the moment, it slowly gave way to introspection.
In the depths of his thoughts, he couldn't deny the truth in Cinderella's words. With each passing second, he felt the anger and frustration that had consumed him mere moments ago dissipate like mist in the morning sun. His exterior, once a turbulent tempest, was now as calm and placid as a serene lake. Cinderella's insight had pierced through his defenses, revealing the vulnerability he had hidden beneath the facade of a powerful demon.
In this transformative moment, Sukuna's anger dissolved into a sense of clarity and understanding. Cinderella's unwavering compassion had prevailed, reminding him that even the mightiest of beings could find solace in the presence of someone who saw past their exterior and understood the fragile essence within.
Sukuna couldn't help but soften his demeanor in response to Cinderella's unwavering compassion. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of his lips as he gazed at her with newfound appreciation.
However, Cinderella's expression underwent a profound shift. Her once-stern countenance now carried a weight of melancholy that tugged at Sukuna's heart. The depth of sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable as she spoke, her voice tinged with sadness, "It is you who should not be around the likes of me."
Sukuna found himself at a loss for words. He realized that he lacked Cinderella's talent for providing comfort and reassurance. How could he testify differently when he himself grappled with self-doubt and disdain for his nature?
A brief pause hung in the air, their shared silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the world around them. Then, Sukuna's deep voice broke the quietude. "You're not cursed, Ella," he began, his words carefully chosen. "In fact, it's quite the opposite. You bring sunlight into my life, a warmth and light that I never thought I'd experience. The darkness within me... it fades when I'm with you."
Cinderella's gaze lifted as Sukuna affectionately called her "Ella," a cherished nickname that made her heart skip a beat. A soft purse of her lips formed as she looked into his eyes.
Cinderella timidly questions, "Do you mean that?"
Sukuna replies, "Yes, Ella. I am..."
Before he could finish, tears welled up in Cinderella's eyes, her voice quivering ever so slightly. She muttered, "I am no one's friend in this whole town. I am despicable." Sukuna, unable to offer proper comfort, stood there.
Cinderella advised Sukuna she desired to return home, in the comforts of her small room, where angry mobs cannot get to them.
They walked in a solitary silence together, back to the manor.