Somewhere back at the Zenin estate…
Naoya was stepping over the threshold, finally heading out to meet Gojo in Tokyo. Clean suit, sharp shoes, sunglasses — he looked like an asshole.
He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, already annoyed in advance.
Then his leg hit something.
He looked down.
Of course.
Makima.
Standing in the path like a landmine with bangs.
She didn't say anything. Just stared up at him. Unblinking.
Without a second thought, Naoya kicked her. Hard.
She flew like a soccer ball, disappeared behind the corner, and thudded somewhere in the gravel.
He didn't wait. Didn't look back.
Just muttered,
"Obstacle cleared,"
and kept walking.
…
Tokyo. Outside a café.
Naoya stood, arms crossed, regretting everything.
Gojo was waving from a corner seat with two iced coffees and zero shame.
"Naoyaaa~! Over here! Try the croissants, they're better than your wildest dreams."
Naoya sat down. Slowly. Like a man preparing for verbal war.
Gojo grinned. "So. Great trailer. Amazing stuff."
Naoya didn't trust that tone.
"…What."
"I just wanna know," Gojo said, sipping through his straw, "why am I blindfolded in every frame like I'm the final boss of a dating sim??"
Naoya squinted.
"And why do I look so skinny? Huh? Are you still mad about that slice of pizza?"
Naoya sipped his own coffee. "Yes."
Gojo gasped dramatically. "Petty!"
Naoya shrugged. "Don't care. Also, I made your collar higher on purpose."
"…Why?"
"So fans can't see your neck. I'm eliminating simp loopholes."
Gojo leaned forward, squinting at him. "You're evil."
Naoya smirked. "You're late."
Gojo slumped in his chair. "I feel harassed. Violated. Objectified."
"Good."
Gojo sighed, shifting into a more serious tone.
"But seriously, what's all this about, Naoya? You do realize what you're doing is very dangerous."
Naoya leaned back, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.
"Dangerous? That's the whole point. If it wasn't, it'd be boring."
Gojo raised an eyebrow.
"Boring for who? You? Because it looks like you're poking a hornet's nest with a stick and hoping it stings someone else."
Naoya chuckled darkly.
"Hornet's nest, huh? I'm the one holding the stick, and I'm the one who's got the armor. They're the ones who'll be bleeding."
"Naoya, are you a villain…? Ah, why am I even asking?" Gojo said, scratching his head.
Naoya smirked, eyes narrowing.
"Heroes and villains always have the same backstory — pain."
Gojo groaned, already regretting this.
"Here we go…"
Naoya continued, unfazed.
"The difference is what they choose to do about it. Villains say, 'The world hurt me, so I'll hurt it back.' Heroes say, 'The world hurt me, but I'm not going to let it hurt anyone else.' Heroes use pain. Villains are used by it."
Gojo rolled his eyes.
"And which one are you, Naoya?"
Naoya's grinned.
"I'm neither. I'm the one who's going to hurt the world."
Gojo sighed deeply, muttering,
"Of course you are."
…
After some half-tolerable chat with Gojo — mostly nonsense and emotional clichés that made Naoya want to shove a pencil through his own ear — he left.
He walked Tokyo's crowded streets for an hour with no destination, just drifting. Sampling cheap street food, picking up random crap. He bought a bag of exotic groceries he didn't recognize, and for reasons even he couldn't explain, a book titled: "100 Ways to Deal with Your Evil Daughter."
The cashier gave him a weird look.
Naoya stared him down until he apologized for breathing.
Then, as he turned a corner, distracted by a skewered squid, a woman slammed straight into his chest.
Naoya could've dodged. Easily.
But why would he?
The woman bounced off him and hit the pavement like she'd just sprinted into a vending machine.
She groaned in pain, clutching her shoulder.
"Open your fucking eyes when you walk, wome—"
????
Naoya's eyes narrowed.
"…Shoko?"
The woman looked up, equally annoyed and surprised.
"Well, shit. I should've known that brick wall was you."
Naoya opened his mouth for some petty insult—then paused.
His gaze dropped.
He froze.
A very un-Naoya expression crossed his face. Confusion.
"…What the hell is that?" he muttered, pointing at her chest.
Shoko blinked, following his gaze.
Then looked back at him, deadpan.
"My eyes are up here, jackass."
Image:
"Yeah, I know," Naoya muttered, still staring with visible distrust. "But they weren't this huge last time."
Shoko sighed as her cigarette slipped from her fingers and hit the ground. Without missing a beat, she lit another and took a deep drag.
"You haven't seen me in two years and that's your opening line?"
"I'm just saying," Naoya said, tone turning dangerously analytical, "I remember you being built like a damn ironing board."
"Did your puberty come late or something?"
Shoko exhaled smoke straight into his face. "And I remember you being slightly less of a dick. Guess we both changed."
Naoya stepped back, waving the smoke away. "No, I stayed consistent. You, on the other hand—what is this? You upgrade to a new class of sorcery? That a new Binding Vow? Boob Expansion Technique?"
Shoko narrowed her eyes. "Can we change the topic?"
But Naoya wasn't done.
Was she this thick in the original timeline? he thought. Or was it just the baggy clothes hiding it?
His thoughts spiraled.
Naoya had been sleeping with Naraku — and oh, what a divine indulgence it was.
Her cursed technique wasn't just powerful — it was perfect. A gift from the gods of depravity. A playground of flesh and fantasy, tailored to his every twisted whim. She could be anything — anyone — her body reshaping with a thought, bending to his desires like molten wax.
And Naoya?He wasn't just a man. He was an artist of hunger. A sculptor of sin. He didn't ask for limits — he tested them.Softness became angles. Angles became curves. One night she'd be built like a vintage pinup, all exaggerated hourglass and bouncing fullness. The next, she'd twist herself into something obscene - hips that demanded hands, a waist you could circle with thumbs and fingers, every inch designed to make saints forsake their vows.
But even with that divine buffet, he had a type.Short hair. Big ass. Big tits. Petite build. The full combo. Something primal about it — efficient design, maximum return. No wasted space. No dead angles.
And Shoko?
Annoyingly enough, she was dangerously close to checking most of those boxes.
If only she wasn't 5'6"(168cm).
Too tall to qualify… but barely.
Naoya clicked his tongue.
This timeline was getting weirder by the day.
.............................................................................
(Another chapter will be released when the power stones reset)