章 33: Chapter 33: Mind Games and Miscalculations
Before long, Zen'in Hisashi's figure appeared on the third floor. Walking up to the group, the one-armed Hisashi placed a black suitcase on the windowsill and input a password to unlock it. Inside, atop stacks of cash, sat a thick, sealed envelope.
Hisashi handed the envelope to Gojo Satoru, his voice calm and composed. "This contains all the accumulated experience of the Ten Shadows Technique, passed down through the Zen'in clan. Gojo-sensei, you may verify it yourself."
Gojo casually accepted the envelope, flipping through its contents without hesitation in front of everyone.
"Heh, interesting," Gojo sneered, raising an eyebrow. "The Zen'in clan's secret techniques, handed over to a rival family... You sure this is a good idea?"
He stared pointedly at Hisashi, a teasing glint in his eyes. Pulling back a corner of his blindfold, Gojo locked his gaze on Hisashi's severed arm. "You've already become a Grade 1 Sorcerer, and yet he still treats you like this..."
"No hard feelings about that?"
Gojo's words, clearly intended to sow discord between Hisashi and the future clan head, Zen'in Mirai, weren't subtle. Or perhaps, more accurately, he wasn't trying to stir the pot at all. He was merely stating a painful truth, leaving the wound bare for all to see.
Yesterday, Gojo had taken a long trip back to the Gojo family estate, specifically to look into Mirai's history. He had expected some dark secrets but didn't imagine he would treat his own clan so ruthlessly.
Hisashi's face remained indifferent as he replied, "No need to worry yourself. The clan head treats all his subordinates quite well."
Gojo fell silent for a moment, surprised by the deadpan response. The man's utter calmness... It was almost admirable how Mirai had managed to keep such tight control over his clan.
Turning to another matter, Hisashi addressed Mei Mei, "Miss Mei Mei, inside this case is the payment for your last mission. The excess should be considered a bonus. Additionally, the clan head requests you keep the details of the assignment confidential."
"Of course." Mei Mei accepted the suitcase with a charming smile. "A reasonable request from a client. I'll honor it."
Only after Hisashi had left did Mei Mei, visibly delighted, begin counting the cash.
"As expected of the Zen'in clan head... Generous, indeed," she murmured with a smile.
Gojo tilted his head, smirking. "Mei Mei-san, does this mean you're siding with the Zen'in clan?"
"Siding?" Mei Mei chuckled, her red lips parting slightly. "You've got it wrong, Gojo-sensei."
"Wherever the money is, that's where I'll be."
"If it can't be exchanged for money, it's meaningless to me."
With that, she flicked her silver ponytail, suitcase in hand, and sauntered away, her steps light and carefree.
———
Night fell, and under the soft moonlight, three days had passed since Mirai left the school.
The Zen'in family estate was largely silent, save for the faint light in some of the servants' quarters. Deep within the core of the estate, only two flickering candles illuminated the pavilion.
For three days, Mirai had sent away all the Zen'in sorcerers on missions to capture cursed spirits. His Mangekyō Sharingan had remained active this entire time, ensuring no one dared approach the estate's underground vault, where the most dangerous secrets were kept. Such vigilance honored the legacy of the ancient curse users who lurked in the shadows.
Tap, tap... The sound of footsteps echoed through the darkness, gradually drawing closer.
Mirai raised his eyes, following the noise to its source. A figure became clearer—a woman with short hair, dressed in black, her tall frame unmistakably human. She had a pale, delicate face, with almond-shaped eyes that naturally exuded warmth. But the malice in her gaze and the thin scar stitched across her forehead added an eerie edge to her appearance.
"Zen'in Mirai, I've heard much about you." The woman's voice was soft as she confidently stepped into the pavilion, taking a seat on the sofa that had been prepared for her.
Mirai picked up the teapot, letting a trace of cursed energy heat the now-cold tea. After a moment, steam rose from the cup he held, his expression calm as ever. "Likewise."
"Your reputation precedes you, Kamo Noritoshi."
Kamo Noritoshi: The head of the Kamo clan from 150 years ago, infamous for his experiments in fusing cursed spirits with humans—a sorcerer regarded as the Kamo clan's greatest disgrace. History had dubbed him the "most wicked sorcerer."
A fleeting look of surprise crossed the woman's face, but she quickly regained her composure. Picking up her own cup, she narrowed her eyes and said, "It's no wonder the Zen'in family sorcerers have been monitoring me for years now. I'm curious, where did you hear about my little secret? And how did you manage to recognize my true identity?"
The woman's physical body belonged to Itadori Kaori, the mother of Jujutsu Kaisen's protagonist, Itadori Yuji. However, her mind and soul were that of Kenjaku, the ancient, malevolent sorcerer who had inhabited countless bodies over the millennia. The name Kamo Noritoshi was just one of the many aliases Kenjaku had adopted throughout history.
Mirai took a small sip of tea, quietly considering which of his pre-prepared responses would be most appropriate. Before he could answer, Kenjaku spoke again, seemingly having pieced the puzzle together on his own.
"Possession, is it...?"
Mirai remained silent, sipping his tea with no intention of confirming or denying his guess.
Kenjaku's gaze sharpened as he took in Mirai's relaxed demeanor. It was enough to give him the answer he was looking for.
His voice grew deeper, more masculine, as his suspicions solidified. "So, which era did you crawl out from?"
"The early Meiji period?"
"Or perhaps... something much older?"
Kenjaku's words seemed to settle the matter in his mind, as he concluded that Mirai, like himself, was another ancient sorcerer who had taken over a young body. After all, it made no sense for someone as young as him to know about his hidden identities. Even the Six Eyes of Gojo Satoru would be hard-pressed to see through his disguise without considerable effort.
Not to mention, only a sorcerer capable of wielding multiple techniques, much like himself, could orchestrate such a carefully planned encounter. There was no way a mere twenty-year-old could pull off such a feat.
"Impressive," Mirai chuckled, genuinely amused. "You've always been sharp, Kenjaku."
He hadn't expected him to arrive at this conclusion so quickly, but it worked to his advantage. The script he had prepared was now obsolete—Kenjaku's assumption was far more useful than anything he had concocted.
"A possession from a thousand years ago... No wonder you recognized me at first glance," Kenjaku remarked, lightly touching the scar on his forehead. His tone was casual, but the weight of his thousand-year existence was palpable.
In his millennium of life, Kenjaku had encountered countless techniques, more numerous than the stars. The idea that another sorcerer might have survived the centuries, mastering the art of possession like himself, was surprising but not unimaginable.
Though Mirai didn't radiate the same cursed aura as those who carried cursed objects, Kenjaku was now convinced. Whoever Mirai was, he was not the same person who had lived in this body a thousand years ago. And that realization solidified his identity in Kenjaku's mind.
———
As the thought sank in, Kenjaku's gaze shifted discreetly toward the coffin resting behind Mirai. His mind raced, analyzing the old monster's true intentions.
The news from the school was clear—Suguru Geto had been killed by Zen'in Mirai. Two days prior, Kenjaku had infiltrated the Zen'in estate.
The barrier around the underground vault was full of weaknesses, but Kenjaku hadn't made his move. Not with those blood-red eyes of Mirai's, which hadn't been seen in over a thousand years, sitting guard at the entrance. That was the real reason he remained in hiding.
"What do you want from me?" Kenjaku finally asked, his gaze locking onto Mirai's, filled with both curiosity and caution.
It wasn't the first time he had faced another relic from the golden age of sorcerers a thousand years ago. But this time, the weight of the unknown was heavier, and it intrigued him more than anything.
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