The following day, the Onmyo Agency Headquarters was in disarray.
The body of Kurahashi Genji, the Director of the Onmyo Agency, had been discovered lifeless in his office—his soul utterly erased.
The impact was immediate and explosive. An emergency council was convened. All Twelve Divine Generals were summoned, along with key figures from prestigious Onmyoji bloodlines—Tsuchimikado, Dairenji, Soma—and the Principal of the Onmyo School herself, Kurahashi Miyoshi.
This wasn't just a murder.
This was a declaration of war against the very heart of Japan's exorcist order.
Kurahashi Miyoshi stood silently over her son's corpse. Her expression betrayed no grief, no anger—only a profound, unsettling calm. No one could tell what she was thinking.
Tsuchimikado Yasuzumi, current head of the Tsuchimikado family, stepped forward, his voice steely. "Have we identified the culprit?"
Amami Daizen, one of the Twelve Divine Generals known for his precise spiritual diagnostics, grimaced. "No traces. Whoever did this... they weren't just skilled. They were absolute. The soul was destroyed—completely."
"That makes it difficult," muttered Iwao Miyachi, another of the Divine Generals. Her tone was cold. "To kill Genji without leaving even a ripple... not a single current Onmyoji possesses such precision."
"That may be true," said Zenjirō Kōgure, the rogue Divine General nicknamed Divine Sword of Spirit Techniques. "But don't forget—we're not the only ones capable of sorcery. What about the Sorcerers?"
The room fell into a hush.
"You're suggesting the Jujutsu Alliance?" asked Yuge Mari, the 'Barrier Princess' of the Twelve. Her brow furrowed. "What possible reason would they have? Could this be Gojo Satoru's doing?"
The name made several present visibly shift. Gojo Satoru, the strongest modern jujutsu sorcerer. Brilliant. Dangerous. Unpredictable.
"But he's never shown interest in the Onmyo Agency," Yuge Mari continued. "Even if he has grudges with Jujutsu Alliance leadership, why would he come for Genji?"
Iwao Miyachi interjected, "You forget, Genji had been secretly aligning with certain factions within the Jujutsu Alliance—those high-ranking officials Gojo detests. It could've been retaliation."
"Still," Daizen added with narrowed eyes, "Gojo isn't the only one capable of moving in silence. There's also Akiyama Ren… the one who calls himself a god."
The room tensed at the name.
"No way," Yuge Mari objected. "Kurahashi Genji even sent his daughter to his side. Last I heard, she was living with him. There's no chance he'd kill her father."
Silence.
Despite her reasoning, the others had no response. Logic or not, Ren was capable of such a thing.
At that moment, Kurahashi Miyoshi finally spoke.
"That's enough. Cease the investigation."
Everyone turned toward her in shock.
"Genji is dead. That is fact. Daizen, from this moment forward, you'll act as interim Director. Keep the Agency stable—do not let this incident spark disorder."
There was hesitation. But no one objected.
Even among the elite of the Onmyo Agency, no one wanted to antagonize Akiyama Ren. Whether it was Gojo Satoru or Ren, both were forces of nature—beings outside their control. Provoking either was tantamount to suicide.
All they could do was pray.
Pray that Tsuchimikado Yakou's reincarnation would awaken soon—and reclaim the title of the strongest.
Only then could balance return.
....
Back at the Onmyo Academy, Kurahashi Miyoshi returned to her office.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a faded photograph. In it, a young Kurahashi Genji smiled innocently, missing a tooth.
Her expression cracked.
"Don't resent me, Genji," she murmured, gently brushing her fingers across the glass. "You made enemies. Committed sins. Perhaps this… was karmic balance."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Miyoshi hurriedly tucked the photo away and composed herself. "Enter."
The door creaked open.
Ōtomo Jin stepped in, leaning on a crutch, the result of a long-ago battle against a high-grade spirit.
He didn't waste time.
"Shouldn't we bring Kyōko back?"
Miyoshi met his gaze, feigning ignorance. "Why would we?"
Ōtomo frowned. "You know why. That girl's been staying with Akiyama Ren. You really want her near the man who might have killed her father?"
The Onmyo Agency was, in truth, not much different from the Curse User factions it so often condemned.
Its halls were filled with age-worn power struggles, rotting authority, and corrupted ambition masquerading as duty. For years, the highest echelons had grown increasingly detached from the ideals they once claimed to uphold.
Kurahashi Genji's death—brutal, clean, and silent—was more than a tragedy. It was a warning.
To those "old relics" who thrived off institutional power, it served as a chilling reminder that none were untouchable.
And yet, amidst the internal relief some may have felt at the fall of a tyrant, one figure remained caught in the storm's cruel center.
Kurahashi Kyōko.
She was innocent. Loyal. Dutiful. And now—potentially trapped at the side of her father's suspected killer.
Ōtomo Jin's cane thudded against the polished floor of the Onmyo Academy's main administrative building as he stood before Kurahashi Miyoshi. His voice was low, tinged with concern.
"Leaving Kyōko with him… it's too cruel."
Kurahashi Miyoshi, still seated behind her desk, folded her hands and looked at her former instructor with unreadable calm.
"She volunteered. I won't pull her away over speculation."
Ōtomo's grip on his cane tightened. "But what if she finds out the truth? What if she's already grown attached to Akiyama Ren, only to later learn he's the one who destroyed her father's soul?"
Kurahashi Miyoshi's expression didn't change, but her breath did catch for a moment.
"I've seen what that man can do," Ōtomo pressed, quieter now. "He doesn't operate within our rules. He defies every known classification of jujutsu sorcery or Onmyoji technique. His innate ability to absorb and adapt foreign energy systems—cursed techniques, divine arts, even magic—he wields them like instinct. If anyone could erase Genji without a trace…"
He let the sentence hang.
Kurahashi Miyoshi closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with a sigh. "Ōtomo-Sensei, please don't speculate without conclusive proof. The matter is settled."
Ōtomo stared at her for a long moment. Then smiled bitterly.
"So that's what you've chosen."
With nothing more to say, he turned and limped out of the office, the sound of his retreating steps heavy with resignation.
Left alone, Miyoshi whispered under her breath, "I didn't choose this either. But what can we do... when the other party might as well be a god?"
...
Meanwhile, in a quiet residential ward on the outskirts of Tokyo, Akiyama Ren woke to soft morning light filtering through the shōji screen windows. He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and glanced at the clock.
Past eight.
By the time he stepped out into the main room, the air was filled with light chatter and the comforting aroma of breakfast. A small group of girls were gathered at the low table, clearly getting along as if they had known each other for years. Bonds formed quickly in Ren's orbit—perhaps accelerated by the unspoken knowledge that every one of them, in some way, had tasted the supernatural.
The Zen'in twins—Maki and Mai—remained seated apart from the others, their dynamic tense as ever.
Ren's gaze softened.
Before he could speak, a lively voice greeted him.
"Good morning, Master! We made breakfast—traditional Japanese dishes and a few adapted ones," said Sakura brightly, apron tied neatly over her blouse. "We've got grilled fish, tamagoyaki, miso soup... and a few Western dishes too, like soup dumplings and pork wontons."
Ren yawned. "I'll take a bowl of savory tofu pudding… and a basket of soup dumplings."
"Got it! Coming right up!" she said cheerfully, darting into the kitchen.
Ren made his way to the washroom, freshened up, and returned to find new arrivals—Yotsuya Miko and her two classmates, nervously lingering near the genkan. They bowed politely as he approached.
"Morning," he said with a small nod. "Already eaten?"
"Yes!" Miko and her friends nodded in unison.
"Good. Suzuka, why don't you guide them today? I'll join later."
"Leave it to me!" Dairenji Suzuka stood up and gestured for the girls to follow her to the training hall.
Ren took a seat at the table, just as Maki Zen'in casually slid into the spot beside him. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower, and her tone was upbeat.
"Let Suzuka handle the new kids for once. Come train with me, Ren. I want to see how far I've come."
Ren gave her a sidelong glance and sipped his tea. "I already mastered everything from the God-Slayer world… don't feel like sparring. Why don't you fight the Demon Sword Princess instead?"
Maki pouted slightly, clearly offended. But before she could respond with something cutting, her phone buzzed.
She answered, and Ren's ultra-sharp senses picked up every word on the other end. The agency was calling.
A Grade 1 Curse Spirit had emerged in Kanagawa Prefecture. Casualties had already been reported.
Under normal circumstances, a Grade 1 assignment wouldn't be given to someone like Maki—officially ranked at Grade 4. But with the short supply of available Jujutsu Sorcerers, they were desperate.