Today marked a pivotal moment in the long, blood-stained history of the Zen'in Clan. A powerhouse among Jujutsu families, its halls had once echoed with pride and power. Now, with the death of their Clan Head and the decimation of the elder council, a storm of uncertainty loomed. The clan's prestige was tarnished, its future uncertain. And so, the time had come, to choose a new leader to carry the shattered legacy forward.
Within the Main Hall of the Zen'in estate, silence prevailed. The wide chamber, adorned with hanging scrolls, ancestral masks, and paper lanterns, was filled with rows of futons. On each one sat an elder, white-haired and straight-backed, dressed in traditional brown kimonos. Their expressions were stern, carved from years of discipline and war. The air reeked of pipe smoke and incense, while trays of tea and gin were neatly arranged before them.
A ceremonial quiet prevailed until the grand doors opened with a resonant creak.
Masamichi Yaga, Principal of Jujutsu High, strode in, flanked by a delegation of representatives. Each step they took seemed to darken the air. They were here not out of courtesy, but duty, and it was clear the clan elders had barely tolerated their presence. Glares met them like daggers.
But Yaga ignored it all. His towering form and unreadable face were unmoved by the hostility. He took his seat with the composure of a man used to walking into viper dens.
Seated nearby, isolated in a shadowed corner, was a figure who once stood at the peak of Zen'in power, Naobito Zen'in. The former Head sat slumped as if burdened by ghosts, his once-sharp eyes dull beneath bushy brows. A wine jug rested in his weathered hand, lifted occasionally to his lips. His thick mustache eclipsed his upper lip, and a bristled beard covered his jaw, giving him the appearance of a man aged a century in a day.
The room remained wordless until the fifth elder, Zen'in Kazuya, rose with deliberate slowness. In his hand was a single parchment, creased and lightly trembling. Dressed in a brown-and-white kimono, his expression was one of detachment rather than duty. He rubbed his bald head and adjusted his glasses with every pause, an unconscious tic born of nervous habit.
Clearing his throat, he began, "Following the losses our clan has suffered, the deaths of our Clan Head and principal elders, the council has deemed it necessary to appoint a new leader, and reestablish a guiding body of venerable elders. We—"
He didn't get far.
A hand was raised mid-sentence, halting him. "Hold your tongue," came the gruff interruption from Elder Tokito, a surly, iron-jawed man seated at the front. After a slow sip from his tea, he narrowed his eyes and turned to the Jujutsu High delegation, spitting venom with his glare.
"They let our people die," Tokito said, voice sharp as steel. "Our Clan Head. Our elders. Slaughtered. And where were they? Watching. Advising. Standing back while a devil tore through our home!"
His gnarled finger pointed accusingly toward Yaga and his companions. "If you had intervened when it mattered—!"
"Tokito," Kazuya sighed wearily, trying to rein him in. But it was too late.
Yaga's eyes lifted slowly. "Your disrespect will be ignored… this time," he said evenly. "But let me be clear, for your sake and the sake of this council, never confuse our restraint for weakness."
The pressure in the room shifted. Though Yaga's voice was calm, a shadow settled over the chamber, cold and suffocating. Even seasoned sorcerers among the elders felt their skin crawl.
"You declared war on one of your own," Yaga continued, his tone steady but firm. "The best mercenary and assassin in the world, someone who's been at the top of Jujutsu High's blacklist for over half a year. We warned you. We advised caution. But you..." he pointed subtly at them all. "chose vengeance over wisdom."
He leaned forward slightly, a flicker of fury passing through his usually passive expression.
"We supported you. We even dispatched reinforcements. And still, our students, our children, died. Do not lay your failures at our feet."
The weight of his words pressed down on the elders like a curse. Tokito scowled, but said nothing more.
Another elder spoke up, his clenched fist shaking beside him. "Our apologies, Principal Yaga… Tokito speaks from grief. He lost both his sons in the attack, as many of us did…"
He paused, voice thick with bitterness. "But what we need to understand is this, why didn't the Jujutsu Council send the Six Eyes? Or even the Shaman? If those two had taken action, we believe this would have ended differently."
Murmurs of agreement spread among the elders. All eyes turned to Yaga, waiting for a response.
But before he could speak, a tired, drawling voice rose from the corner.
"It wouldn't have made a damn difference."
Gasps echoed around the hall. All turned to Naobito, who hadn't spoken until now. His gaze was unfocused, yet his words were precise.
"Wht did you say?" Tokito growled.
Naobito took another swig of wine before sighing. "I said, it wouldn't have mattered. Bloody kid tore through Fugaku's gravity techniques and my own Projection Sorcery like they were made of paper. You think a half baked Six Eyes kid and a green Shaman would've done better?"
He shook his head slowly. "The only reason I'm alive is because he ran out of cursed energy, or maybe because he didn't think I was worth dirtying his blade. We weren't fighting a man, we were facing a demon born of cursed vengeance."
The room was dead silent.
Even Yaga, who had been poised to defend his school, said nothing. Perhaps Naobito's admission was the harsh truth they all needed to hear.
Kazuya seized the moment to steer things back on course. He cleared his throat and lifted the parchment again. "As I was saying, we will now begin the appointment of a new Clan Head. All aspirants, please rise.."
A cry cut through the air, echoing from the courtyard:
"There's trouble outside!!"
Every elder shot to their feet in an instant, releasing surges of cursed energy that cracked the air. Naobito vanished in a blur, his body becoming a phantom flicker of speed. The remaining elders followed like streaks of lightning.
Yaga stood, slow and deliberate, then gestured to his people. "Let's go."
---
Outside, the Zen'in Clan's pristine courtyard had become a nightmare.
Blood.
It was everywhere, flowing like crimson rivers across the white stone tiles, staining the garden's water lilies, seeping into the earth. The corpses of the royal guard were piled like offerings before the inner gate, broken and twisted, their cursed weapons shattered around them.
But what made the elders freeze wasn't the massacre.
It was the presence.
Two figures stood among the gore, both cloaked in black long-necked robes, emblazoned with crimson cloud patterns.
At the forefront was a youth whose face no Zen'in would ever forget. Cold, pale features. Raven-black hair. Crimson eyes with a twisted star pattern burned within them, the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Sasuke Uchiha.
He sat atop a blood-slicked boulder, legs crossed, calmly wiping the Kusanagi sword clean with a torn cloth. The blade gleamed with fresh blood. He didn't even look at the crowd that had gathered. His actions were methodical, unhurried. As though none of this concerned him.
Behind him, standing tall with an expression of sharp alertness, was Mei, her own robe billowing slightly in the wind. Her cold gaze scanned the assembled crowd of elders before locking eyes with Yaga.
Naobito reached the front of the group, his hand trembling slightly, not from fear, but fury. Yet he held it back.
His voice was low, tense. "What brings you here, Uchiha?"
The remaining elders, ready to attack, waited for Naobito's signal, but none came. Yaga joined him, fists clenched so tightly the veins in his arms bulged. Every inch of his body screamed tension.
Sasuke finally looked up. Slowly, methodically. His gaze settled on Yaga.
"There's a bounty on your head, Principal. I intend to collect it… personally, at the right time.."
A stunned silence followed.
Sasuke's tone didn't change. It was cold. Unfeeling. Like he was stating a mundane fact.
"You've made enough enemies at Jujutsu High," Yaga said firmly, "Do you really intend to pit yourself against the entire world?"
Sasuke rose to his feet, eyes never leaving Yaga's. The bloodstained wind tugged at his robes. The Mangekyō pulsed in the dim sunlight.
"I already have," he whispered.
-
A/N: Enjoy folks