26 Chapter 26
"Naoya Zenin," Jiki stated. His body was seemingly completely at ease, yet his nerves were alive with the anticipation of violence.
His eyes calculated trajectory angles the Zenin prodigy could come at him from. The blonde-haired youth had caught him unaware once. He was curious to see if he could replicate that feat with Jiki's full attention on him.
"Naoya-san, I—" The old man was silenced with a backhand blow that sent him crashing to the floor.
"That's enough from you, Chojuro. Another stupid move like that and you won't survive it. Now silence, your betters are talking."
"I've heard about you," Jiki continued, like he was not a witness to the casual disregard the young man had displayed.
"And I, you." The Zenin prodigy nodded in reply. "It's whispered, a child prodigy to match me," he said with a smile that highlighted his fox-like features. "Yet the Gojo has not been very forthcoming about you. I wonder why."
He shrugged in reply, waiting for the Zenin to get to the point.
"So what are you doing so far from the safety of Master Tengen's barrier and the shield that is Satoru's presence?"
Those words hinted at more things than he liked. It meant they had tried to reach him, multiple times and only Satoru's presence had rebuffed them.
Did they think him so weak, despite all he had done? Was not even his special-grade status enough to render his age futile in the judgment of his ability? That they thought he would need to hide under the shadows of Satoru's benevolence irked him somewhat.
"On a mission," he replied coolly in response, noting and discarding his juvenile feelings on the matter in the same breath. He had never cared less for their perception of him, and their underestimation of his capabilities would only be beneficial for him. He had few enough sins, and pride was not one of them.
His eyes drifted to where the Zenin had left behind the body of the vessel. Its fingers twitched as signals were sent down its nerves, signals its still scrambled, and still healing brain proved unable to decipher.
The Zenin followed his eyes, amusement carved on his features. "Ah, our escaped mutt? I'll give you this opportunity, from one genius to another. Ignore it. Forget about what you've seen today. Make a binding vow right here, saying you'll never speak of what you saw here, and I will let you all go."
"And if we don't," Maki called out, anger lacing her tone. He had never seen her this aggressive and confrontational. It seemed the presence of the Zenin clan scratched at an unhealed scab.
The Zenin clan prodigy tilted his head to her. "Is the scum speaking to me? You might bear a heavenly restriction, Maki, but you're not him. You're simply a foolish girl with delusions, thinking she can amount to anything. You should be more servile like your sister and maybe—"
"Do not talk about Mai."
She charged with a low growl, sprinting toward the grinning man with anger-enhanced strength, Naoya activated his technique with a twist of his cursed energy and now that Jiki was watching for it, he saw the Zenin scion's technique come into play.
Naoya Zenin moved.
The Zenin's technique was a bastardized body flicker technique.
The blonde haired man spun on the spot, ducking under Maki's Nagitana, and his technique projected a series of movements that ended up with him at her back, where he spun once more and lashed out at her unguarded back. Using the combined strength of the speed and momentum gathered to send her flying up in a feat of strength he couldn't possibly replicate without the technique.
He tensed to move, aiming to continue his attack—the prediction broke.
Naoya Zenin moved. A movement that was practically teleportation if you were not aware of what it truly was.
The technique allowed the user a chance, a split-second chance to pre-program their movements. The moment time resumes, they skip through that particular pre-made movement to land at the final movement. Carrying all the momentum and acceleration of the pre-made movement, which made it all the more similar to Shisui's favored technique.
A poor man's body flicker, one that could also be used in combat, and without needing the Sharingan to truly excel in its usage.
It would've been a terrifying technique to face, yet the combination of the Sharingan's ability to slow down perception and predict an opponent's movements by reading the opponent's body movement and corresponding cursed energy rendered the feared technique null.
From the moment he took his first breath in this world, he was the very antithesis of the Zenin prodigy without them ever being aware. The one person who could counter the technique from the very moment his eyes were laid on it.
Yet he had to acknowledge he did not know it all. For example, what would happen if the technique was forcibly interrupted halfway? He mused with a soft smile.
The moment Naoya sent Maki flying upwards, Jiki discarded his drifting thoughts and focused on that one moment. That moment when the Zenin would be caught midair without leverage, just like another zenin a few years ago.
He tensed his legs and shifted his grip on the borrowed blade, prepared to launch it like a makeshift spear.
Yet instead of following through with the attack like he expected, the Zenin forced his movement to halt reluctantly and stared at him in shock, shock that he swiftly hid behind a grin that was all teeth.
"You truly are our equal, aren't you?" The Zenin continued to stare at him before finally letting out a heavy sigh and relaxing his stance. With a wave of his hands towards the entrance, he continued, "Leave then. I'm sure my father would be able to mitigate whatever blowback we get from this."
"Master Naoya, we cann—"
"Do you enjoy getting hit, Chojuro?" The silence of the room was his answer. "Just as I thought."
"We'll leave," Jiki agreed easily, but not immediately. There was a debt to be repaid. "After killing him." He pointed at the vessel that was slowly struggling its way to its feet.
---
He slapped a palm over his face and dragged it down while he thought furiously. He wanted to refuse with every fiber of his being. Allowing information on what they had done was already enough reason to get a sober talk from his father.
Still, he had no actual stake in this fight. It was not under his watch neither was it his fault the vessel escaped its bindings and made a fool of its guards. That particular blame lay at the feet of his second brother, and it was most likely a political play by another brother to reduce his second brother's standing.
But failing to bring back the vessel as the leader of the Hei would have consequences. It would be a chink in his so far pristine armor. One that his brothers would no doubt go for. Not that any of the useless snakes would have the guts to challenge him head-on.
No, he had to refuse, but those eyes forced his indecision.
He could still remember the way those empty eyes devoid of any real emotion followed him. The eerie feeling of them on his skin. Tracking his movement, uncaring of the Projection sorcery technique. He understood what that meant.
He understood the risk that came with his technique, especially against someone who could theoretically follow his movements.
Then there was the soft smile that formed out on his placid face. He could sense absolutely zero malice from the Gojo, the boy stood relaxed and uncaring of the fact he was surrounded by experienced killers with only children for allies.
He rapidly considered alternatives and calculated how a fight would turn out, especially if he sent Chojuro ahead while flanking from a position those eyes wouldn't be able to follow.
Yet for all his plans and strategies, Naoya looked back at the boy and felt like he was five years old again. Staring up at the unfeeling visage of his older cousin once more.
If he learned anything from Toji before his sudden self-imposed exile from the clan, it was never to work against the odds, especially when it was this high.
Yet he could not leave this place empty-handed. He regretted not leaving the old man to die at the hands of the duo minutes ago.
"You drive a bargain, but—"
"It was not a request." The boy interrupted him serenely. Despite the danger he knew he was in, despite how much his rational mind told him to let the matter go, Naoya felt his lips tug up and split into a smile once more.
His curse energy increased sharply, sensing the danger he was willing to put himself into, sensing how thin of an edge he was truly dancing upon.
"Am I going to see it then?" He continued speaking, high of the euphoria that came with knowing victory and death was very possible and was separated by something as fickle as chance.
"The technique named after the sun goddess herself. You know, some sects are already whispering of you. Even the ever-insulated shrine maidens speak of you."
An uncaring raised brow was Jiki's reply, yet he knew he had the younger boy's attention.
"Some whisper you're an Incarnation. If you're, let's have it then. Come at me."
The boy took a single step in reply before being halted by a pale hand.
"Let's leave it, Jiki-san. It doesn't matter."
The girl he had deemed a nonfactor spoke up from behind the Gojo. Her right hand held her sword in a tight grip as she stared daggers at the vessel, while her empty left held at the boy.
He could see the anger that blazed in her eyes and wondered. What had he missed before they arrived? What had transpired in this dark hall?
"I promised it death, Emi. From the moment it held you in its grip." he glanced back at the girl, giving her a look Naoya could only describe as reassurance before disappearing in a blur.
Naoya moved to follow him, but a bladed spear appeared centimeters from his eyes in a blur of steel and displaced air. His eyes drifted to the side and realized Maki had snuck up on him, and she had the look of a predator on the hunt.
He swiftly activated his technique, sending cursed energy into the matrix and pathway that lay the grounding for his ability, and slapping the blade to the side before slipping into her guard and tapping the girl's shoulder, freezing her stiff. Yet when he looked at the frozen two-dimensional image of the girl, she had a grin. A victorious grin.
His eyes widened and he spun on his heels to look at the pathway the Gojo had taken and all he could see was blood. Copious amounts of spilled blood soaked the very ground, imprinting itself into the floor and splattering the few Kukuru members that were not in his direct path.
Whatever stayed the Gojo's hand originally was gone and he had torn his way to the vessel like a scythe through a field of unwary weeds, sending limbs and heads flying to finally end up behind the vessel, where it had somehow struggled its way to a knee.
It turned slowly, its owl-like head twisting behind it and before its eyes in surprise.
"It's not too late, Jiki. I— I have a deal with him, we can subvert his plans and you and I together—"
The vessel rambled incoherently, fueled by fear and desperation as it tried to scramble away from the chilling figure.
Naoya spent a second trying to make sense of the rambling before he heard the words and felt the attention it called. The pressure that came with a technique that was demonic as it was deific.
The teen stood behind the vessel and stared down at the scrambling creature with blood-stained hands and in his blood-splattered haori. His face was a mask of nothingness, the only real emotion that could be seen was in his eyes, eyes that spun slowly yet held a simmering anger.
Eyes that were a different shape than the original three tomoe he had gotten familiar with.
Amaterasu.
The black flames sprung up on the vessel and it let out the worst scream Naoya had ever heard, a screech that tore through its vocal cords as it rolled on the ground in a failed effort to put out the black flames.
The sound of the tortured thing rang and echoed in the darkness of the hollow room. Rooting every single person to the spot as they beheld the power that lay in the name of a god.
For a second he remembered the identity of the vessel. A dark-haired, dark-eyed older man who kicked him down as a boy, just before the awakening of the technique that turned him from just another one of Naobito's sons to Naoya, the leader of the Hei and the future clan head.
His third oldest brother had taken up the possible offer of unbridled power that could be gotten from being a vessel despite the risks. A risk the older man had taken to challenge Naoya's position as the future clan head.
A risk that saw him wriggling and screaming, scratching and ripping out his flesh in a wasted attempt to put out the black flames underneath the unfeeling stare of the Gojo.
He watched the creature wearing his brother's skin bubble and burn, he stared as muscles melted even as they tried to reform, and finally, the screams stopped for his throat had been lost to the unquenching fire, he observed the bones darken and brittle before the body turned to ashes at the same moment the black flames faded into nothingness, seemingly done feeding itself off the vessel.
The room was frozen with indecision and silence, as they all stood in shock.
The Gojo scion finally raised his head, his eyes moved across the gathered people before stopping at the hunched over and wide-eyed frame of Chojuro.
For the first time in his life, Naoya realized the older man had lost his smile.
The teen cracked his neck to the side before taking a step forward.
"That's enough, Jiki-San," the panda spoke.
The panda spoke. Naoya realized with wide eyes. He had assumed it was just a shikigami. What on earth had been happening in that school ever since he left?
"We've accomplished our mission, the vessel and all the other curses have been exorcised. Anything else would be a thinly veiled excuse for them to enforce a sanction." The panda spoke level-headedly, seemingly unmoved by the brutal death they had all witnessed.
Yet the Gojo scion continued to stare death at the old man.
"Panda is right, Jiki. The old man is not worth it," Maki spoke up from behind him.
"He tried to kill us," the Gojo replied calmly, as if he were not already plotting the most optimal path through the crowd to the man.
"Keyword is tried, Jiki-san," the smaller slip of a girl answered this time. "By jujutsu law, no technique was realized, which means if you attack him now, you will be the aggressor."
Naoya stayed silent and watched the byplay as they did their best to convince the boy not to cut the old man's life short, and it seemed their reasoning lay in the higher-ups' interpretation of the events.
The boy stared at the man for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Let's go back to Kusakube-san then," he said as he walked away from the scorched markings on the ground, the only proof that a man, a vessel, had died.
He walked through the blood-soaked ground, ignoring the splatter of sandals on blood and stone, and walked past him, only stopping long enough to look him in the eye before turning to help Maki to her feet.
The group turned and walked off as one, towards the elevator that lay at the end of the hallway, this time with Jiki in the center.
Naoya looked up with a grim smile and wondered when a stupid retrieval mission ended with four dead and the package destroyed. Yet he knew this was a good ending. All he needed to reinforce that thought was the scorched markings on the ground, which were all that was left of Naoyi Zenin.
---
The drive back to the school was a quiet one. Kusakube must've picked up on the mood, for he said nothing, other than ushering them into the bus.
They each kept to themselves, each person coping with what they had witnessed in that dark hole. Yet it seemed the horrors of today were not equal, and there was a person it affected more than any other. His eyes drifted to the green-haired, amber-eyed girl.
Maki.
He made to stand up from his seat, drawing the eyes of Kusakube. But a single jerk of his head at Maki showed his intentions, and the man turned away after a nod.
Even with the bus's unsteady movement and speed, he walked over to where she sat without much trouble, ghosting past the rest of his unfocused classmates and sitting down beside her.
She kept her head down, oblivious to his presence, and his brow turned inward. Maki had a perception to match his, and if she hadn't noticed him this close, Naoya's words must've had more of an effect than he thought.
"You're not one to brood," he started, and she raised dull eyes to blink at him before turning her head back down.
He noticed she was without her glasses for the first time; they had probably been lost in the fight. He would have to get her another one as soon as possible, he mused.
"Is this about Naoya's ramblings?" he continued, and she gave out a harsh laugh in reply.
"I guess they'll be ramblings to you. You're a prodigy just like him. Blessed with talent, luck, and most importantly," she squeezed her hand at the end, "cursed energy."
He kept quiet in response, letting his eyes drift to the windows. Raindrops had begun to patter against the windows, at the same moment Ijichi drove them through the gates of the school.
The moment the bus came to a stop, Kusakube called out. "We'll be heading towards the classroom first, then we can debrief and talk about the mission." Everyone nodded in reply before alighting from the bus, leaving Jiki to come down last once more, but this time with Maki at his side instead of Emi.
The rest of the students made to follow Kusakube immediately, trying to find shelter from the downpour of the rain, but he had other plans. Whatever report the older man expected from him would have to wait. He had more important things to do.
"Maki, walk with me."
His words were met with surprise from everyone, and a rough frown and backward glance from Kusakube.
She stared up at him with dull eyes before shifting them to the older man. When Kusakube did not speak up against it, she nodded and followed him as the two groups separated.
Naoya might have cracked her confidence and pride, but it only made it easier for him to build back up and reinforce, and he had the perfect plan and tool for it. It was time for him to give her a glimpse of what she was capable off.
