Kuronue stood up. Clenched and unclenched his fists. He didn't want to rationalise this, he didn't want to think about it. What kind of a man, let alone a demon, got raped for nigh 100 years? A pathetic one. A useless one.

He wasn't pathetic. He had skills.

Kuronue launched himself across the table at Kusuryuri. He'd show him he had skills, that he wasn't all that useless. Not now. He deserved things of his own. He was good and he got to keep his things, unlike before.