"…Interesting," she said coolly. "Very well. I accept."
Makima stood off to the side, small and silent. She had watched the entire exchange without blinking, her eyes locked on the scene as though etching every word into memory.
She did not believe in good or evil. She never had. People, to her, fell into four categories:
Useful.Dangerous.Disposable.Irreplaceable.
Her father—Naoya Zenin—had, until now, been filed under useful. Dangerous, too, but manageable. Predictable.
But the moment he demanded knowledge of "Open Barrier Domains"—something she didn't understand yet instinctively recognized as important—his classification changed.
He was no longer just useful.He was now irreplaceable.
She didn't flinch when Kaori spoke of destruction. Of collapsing the world to build something new. Makima understood that language. She didn't agree. But she understood. It resonated with something primal in her.
Control is only born from collapse.And collapse was already happening.
As Kaori and Naoya shook hands and sealed their alliance with a binding vow, Makima didn't intervene.
They each slipped away—well before the jujutsu sorcerers could descend on the smoldering ruins. After all, thirty percent of Tokyo was already reduced to ash.
…
The following day, a new visitor arrived at the Zenin estate.
It was Kenjaku, now housed in Kaori's body.
She smiled—a slow, knowing smile—as her eyes swept over the surroundings. "This place… it's far better than I imagined," she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction.
Naoya, leaning casually against a polished railing, nodded. "Beautiful, isn't it? I never liked how the clan used to look. So I rebuilt it. Bigger. More elegant. Rooms fit for our… elevated status."
Kaori chuckled, her gaze lingering on the marble detailing and the distant glint of golden ornaments. "Luxurious and tasteless," she teased.
"Funny," Naoya smirked, "The last person who insulted my décor choked on their opinion."
…
Later, the two stood face to face in the center of a vast training ground—silent, windless, and empty. The skies above were clear, but tension hung heavy like an invisible curtain between them.
Kaori tilted her head slightly, an amused light in her eyes. "So… let's see how strong your domain really is."
She brought her hands together slowly, deliberately, fingers weaving into a familiar formation.
Naoya rolled his shoulder with a lazy stretch. "Lower your domain range," he said flatly. "I'd rather not have my servants crushed."
Kaori smiled again. "How considerate."
He raised a single hand, forming a hand sign with practiced precision. Their cursed energy surged at the same instant—an invisible pulse rolling across the field like a silent thunderclap.
Then, in unison, they both spoke.
"Domain Expansion!"
"Garden of Floating Petals."
"Time Cell Moon Palace."
Reality split.
Two Domains unfolded simultaneously.
Kaori's open-barrier Domain surged outward like a gravitational bloom, invisible tendrils of pressure crashing down on the battlefield. Her sure-hit effect extended far beyond the domain's core—an oppressive anti-gravity field capable of crushing anything beneath it.
But Naoya didn't flinch. He had already anticipated this.
From the start, he had inverted his Domain's configuration—flipping the inside and outside.
As the two Domains collided, a violent tremor cracked the air.
"Huh?" she muttered, brows knitting.
"Why hasn't it shattered yet?"
She looked around, analyzing the spatial feedback.
Then she paused.
And smirked.
Her pupils dilated.
"…You knew."
"You reversed the barrier," she murmured. "You flipped your Domain."
A rare, genuine smile tugged at her lips.
"Your Domain… it's far more refined than I expected too."
Across the fractured space, Naoya stood tall, golden light cascading through his corridor. His hands were still tucked into his pockets.
Kaori gave a soft laugh. "Clever. Extremely clever."
"But—" Her gaze sharpened, glowing gold. "Mine is still more refined."
A gravitational pulse surged.
CRACK.
The walls of Naoya's inverted Domain splintered like porcelain under pressure. A low, humming shockwave rippled through the air as Kaori's Domain pushed through. Her Sure-Hit Technique—the focused collapse of space-time—broke past his structure and pinned Naoya down with an impossible gravitational crush.
BOOM.
The stone beneath him cratered like a meteor impact. Naoya's body hit the earth hard, his arms spread, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
But then—
He laughed.
"...Hah. Guess that's your win."
Kaori slowly descended, releasing her Domain as the warped petals of space dissolved around them.
She stepped toward him, calm and composed, her expression unreadable.
"For a modern sorcerer," she said softly, "your strength is on a completely different level. Even in the Golden Age of Jujutsu... you'd be among the strongest."
Naoya spat a bit of blood, then rolled his neck with a lazy smirk.
"Stop glazing the obvious facts," he said dryly. "And start tutoring me."
Kaori's lips twitched in a faint smirk. "Good. Because what you need now isn't praise—it's understanding. You've mastered your domain's raw power, but open barrier domains... that's an entirely different feat."
Kaori's eyes narrowed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I accepted to teach you, but I won't lie—it took me a century and a half to master open barrier domain. And I was gifted, among the best of my time."
She paused, as if weighing the weight of history in her words. "Even Ryomen Sukuna—the King of Curses and strongest sorcerer in history—needed ten years just to fully use Open domains."
Naoya's smirk was unwavering. "Tell me, do you practice sounding dramatic, or does it come naturally."
With a sigh, Kaori extended her hand, and the air around them shifted. "Very well. Let's start."
…
The next day, Naoya sat cross-legged beside the grotesque Time Loop curse, its twisted form pulsing faintly with residual cursed energy. His mind raced, dissecting every nuance of the technique, searching for a way to bend it to his will.
Footsteps approached—soft, deliberate.
Makima appeared silently beside him, her calm eyes locking onto his with unnerving steadiness.
"Papa," she said softly, voice steady and smooth, "I awakened my cursed technique."
Naoya's head turned sharply, irritation flickering before morphing into suspicion.
"What?" he scoffed.
"You just learned what cursed energy is yesterday."
Makima tilted her head, expression unreadable. "And?"
Naoya blinked, staring at her like she'd just told him the sky was edible.
"You know you need basic control over cursed energy before a technique can even manifest, right? That's assuming you were born with one at all"
Makima tilted her head, eyes steady. "Was it supposed to be hard?"
Naoya clicked his tongue. "Nevermind," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I forgot you're my kid. Actually, you were a little late. I just looked at cursed energy and figured it out instantly. You took a whole day? That's too slow."
He said it with the most casual arrogance, as if the laws of Jujutsu existed only to be insulted by him. His smirk curled as he leaned back on one hand.
Makima didn't respond right away. She just stared at him with that unreadable calm.
"…Lying doesn't suit you," she said at last.
"I wasn't lying," Naoya snapped, annoyed.
"You always blink before you lie," Makima replied flatly.
There was a long pause. His eye twitched.
Then, with a scoff, Naoya waved a hand. "Whatever. I don't have time to argue with a toddler who thinks she's a lie detector. Anyway, what's your cursed technique?"
Makima didn't blink.
"My technique's name is…."
....
Give me your power stones 🔫