Greeting fellow readers, MasterW here with a new chapter.
Now that we are getting into the true stuff. Remember.
JJK is a dark world
Without any further to do.....Enjoy!
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(Third Person's POV)
Y̸o̶s̷h̴i̴o̴k̸a̵ ̵A̵k̶i̷r̷a̷ stared at his now-empty territory.
It might have been an exaggerated response to some, but the lesson had been necessary.
With so many Monocosms scattered across "The Beyond," there had been no reason for so many interlopers to choose this one.
He had marked the territory with his essence long ago. The ones who had merely brushed against the edges received only a warning and left. That had been enough.
It was the difference between someone throwing garbage on the far side of the street and someone throwing it directly into a front yard.
On the other side of the street, one might ignore it or offer a disapproving glance. But when the garbage landed on the front yard itself, offense was inevitable
That was the situation here. With countless planets, universes, multiverses, and omniverses available, they had chosen to plant their experiments and sources of entertainment on the very world he currently occupied, and to begin altering its FATE right in front of him.
That was simply disrespectful
Now that the matter was settled, the territory was mostly clear of interlopers. He could rest easier for the time being.
"I̵ ̴a̶m̶ ̵d̸o̶n̸e̷," He stated to his former partner.
"T̴h̶a̴n̶k̵ ̴y̷o̵u̵.̶ ̶I̶'̴m̸ ̶s̶o̴r̴r̸y̶ ̴I̶ ̷c̴o̴u̵l̷d̵ ̷n̸o̶t̵ ̷d̸o̶ ̷m̴u̷c̵h̵."
"I̸t̷ ̵i̷s̸ ̸n̸o̶t̵ ̷l̷i̸k̶e̸ ̵I̸ ̸e̷x̷p̶e̷c̶t̵ ̶m̸u̶c̵h̴ ̴f̶r̶o̸m̴ ̶y̸o̶u̷ ̶a̶n̸y̷w̸a̵y̴."
The words struck cleanly at the center of what had once been his most loyal partner. Even after all the time that had passed, and everything they had endured together, he still carried the wound of that betrayal.
He knew she had not been the true architect of it.
The real blame belonged to that C̸H̵E̷A̷P̴ ̶B̴A̵S̶T̸A̵R̷D̷ ̵W̴A̶S̷T̶E̴ ̸O̶F̷ ̸E̵X̵I̵S̶T̵A̷N̵C̷E̷. Yet she had still been part of it, by hiding the truth from him.
That was something he could not fully forgive. Not yet.
"̵I̵ ̷k̸n̴o̷w̵ ̶y̵o̴u̸ ̶s̷t̴i̴l̵l̸ ̶c̴a̶r̴r̶y̵ ̸y̷o̷u̷r̵ ̵h̵a̸t̵r̷e̴d̷ ̴d̴e̴e̴p̷ ̸i̵n̷s̷i̵d̷e̶," she replied, her essence trembling slightly. "B̴u̴t̶ ̴d̴o̷n̴'̸t̷ ̸l̶e̸t̴ ̴i̷t̶ ̵c̶o̸n̷t̸r̵o̴l̴ ̴y̵o̷u̷. Y̵o̴u̵ ̴a̷r̵e̷ ̸n̴o̸w̵ ̷f̷r̵e̴e̸. P̶l̵e̸a̵s̶e̷,̶ ̵l̵i̶v̶e̵ ̶y̶o̴u̶r̵ ̴f̸r̷e̴e̵d̵o̶m̶. E̶n̸j̵o̵y̷ ̵i̶t̸. A̷f̵t̴e̵r̶ ̴e̸v̴e̴r̴y̵t̴h̵i̵n̸g̶ ̸y̵o̵u̶ ̵w̵e̵n̵t̷ ̷t̶h̷r̸o̶u̵g̵h̶,̶ ̶y̷o̵u̸ ̴d̵e̵s̸e̴r̷v̷e̴ ̵t̸o̵ ̷s̵t̸a̶r̴t̶ ̸l̶i̶v̴i̵n̴g̸ ̴o̵n̵c̵e̷ ̷a̴g̶a̶i̸n̶."
He regarded her in silence for a long moment, then turned his attention back toward the world he currently resided in.
"̵M̶a̶y̷b̴e̸."
It was not forgiveness.
But it was a start at least
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Yoshioka Akira had returned to his home in Chiba.
The so-called Zen'in Clan Incident continued to circulate at full strength throughout the jujutsu community.
Reports of a single man walking into the heart of one of the Three Great Clans and leaving a significant portion of their combat forces broken had spread quickly.
Whatever lingering doubts some still held about him being a hoax or a staged performance with Gojo Satoru had been thoroughly silenced.
At the school, his students had tried to barrage him with questions the moment he reappeared.
Akira dismissed them when he had no intention of elaborating.
He simply told them the matter was settled and that they should return to their own business.
Afterward, he went home.
In the quiet of his residence, he briefly traveled to the center of his Monocosm and returned.
The entire process took only a couple of seconds from the perspective of the world he currently occupied. Outside the known space, where there was no significant mass and therefore almost no gravity to influence the flow of time, centuries, millennia, or even eons could pass without a single moment advancing in the material world.
With that settled, Akira finally sat down in his living room, free of the day's immediate problems. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a slow sip.
That was, of course, when his phone rang
He expected the caller to be Satoru, no doubt ready to laugh about the entire Zen'in affair. Principal Takeda or Shindou were also reasonable possibilities, both of them likely wanting clarification. Even someone else from the broader Jujutsu World would have been an acceptable guess.
He answered the call, holding the phone to his ear as he continued drinking his tea. As usual, he waited for the other end to speak first.
The voice that came through was not anyone from the jujutsu world.
"{Hello, my dear Akira.}"
"…Momobami. What do you want?"
"{My~ Although I would be delighted to hear whatever insults you might throw at me, I called for an entirely different reason. I'm in danger. And I need your help.}"
"What?"
*CRAAASH*
A loud crash resounded clearly through the call.
"{Like right now.}"
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(Momobami Kirari's POV)
Momobami Kirari always got what she wanted.
When she wanted a toy, she acquired the entire factory that produced them.
When she wanted candy, she bought the whole shop.
When she wanted someone dead, she hired the best the JAA had to offer and had them erased.
She always won. That was how she claimed the student council, how she controlled the school, how she crushed every challenge to her authority through defeat or humiliation.
She had been a winner her entire life.
That was, of course, until she met Yoshioka Akira.
He was the only man she could not obtain. The only man who didn't kneel to her
Any other man would have knelt and thanked the heavens for even a single night with her, for the smallest fraction of her attention.
Many had tried. None had succeeded.
Yet Akira, without ever attempting to woo or appease her, had somehow taken the key to her heart and walked away with it.
He did the opposite of what every other man had done. He challenged her and won easily, turning her undefeated life upside down. The more she learned about him, the deeper the interest became.
At first, he had merely seemed intriguing. Now he was the sole light in an otherwise dark and boring world.
More than that, he was a sorcerer, The Strongest one. If he ever wished it, he could end her life as easily as breathing, and neither she nor her bodyguards would be able to stop him. Yet every time they met; he treated her as if she were dirt on the sidewalk.
Anyone else who dared treat her that way would have disappeared, along with their family and even their dog. But Akira was simply like that. That cold indifference was part of his charm.
That was why she pursued him so relentlessly. That was why she tried so hard to earn even a fragment of his affection.
And then she had messed up.
In the test he had given her, the chance to prove her usefulness, she had rushed without properly covering her bases.
Somehow the group she was investigating, CLAW, had caught wind of her inquiries.
It had not been Kong Shiu; the man was far too professional for that. More likely a mole within her own network, perhaps someone from the Momobami clan who saw an opportunity to remove her and fed information to the curse users.
Clever bastards.
Now her life was quite literally in danger.
"AAAHH—!"
"HELP!!!!!"
Through the monitors she could hear the dying screams of her JAA bodyguards. Most of them were ordinary humans. Against a sorcerer, they might as well have been made of paper. CLAW had clearly sent someone to deal with her personally.
She did the only sensible thing left and called Akira.
The phone rang for a few seconds before the call connected.
"Hello, my dear Akira."
"{…Momobami. What do you want?}"
As always, so dismissive. Under normal circumstances she would have relished whatever insult he chose to throw at her, if only to hear that deep voice so close to her ear. But time was running out. She could already hear the CLAW assassin drawing nearer.
In the same room, Ririka readied a gun. As her body double, she had been trained to protect her in every possible way. Whether a firearm would accomplish anything against a sorcerer remained doubtful, but the effort was appreciated.
"My~ Although I would be delighted to hear whatever insults you might throw at me, I called for an entirely different reason. I'm in danger. And I need your help."
"{What?}"
*CRAAASH*
The door to the office shattered inward.
A man of average height and build stepped through the wreckage. He had somewhat heavy eyebrows and a vertical scar running from his jaw up the left side of his cheek. Thick black-framed glasses sat on his face, and he wore a plain black suit with a matching tie. A katana rested at his side, yet the blade did not reflect the light the way metal should.
"Like right now"
Kirari ended the call without another word. She knew her Akira would already be moving toward her.
How she wished she could see him arrive like the heroes in those old stories, saving the damsel at the last moment.
Ririka raised the gun and fired without hesitation.
*BANG BANG BANG BANG*
She emptied the magazine. The assassin merely swung his strange blade and deflected every shot. Then, with the same casual ease, he slashed across Ririka's chest. A clean wound opened. Ririka collapsed, clutching the injury as blood spread across her clothes.
The man turned toward Kirari.
"Not going to run, Momobami?"
"What would it accomplish? You would catch me without breaking a sweat."
"Then not going to beg for your life?"
"No."
"You've got guts, girl. Shame. You would have made a fine asset for CLAW." He adjusted his glasses. "But my orders were to kill you, and I always fulfill my orders. Be grateful, the instructions were only to kill you. Your assistant may survive if she doesn't aggravate her wounds."
"How kind of you, for a cold-blooded assassin."
Without further comment, he drove the blade into her chest.
"Gugh—!"
Pain unlike anything she had ever felt flooded her body.
Her chest burned. Warm blood spilled onto the floor as he withdrew the sword without care, sending another spray across the room.
Her vision blurred from both the agony and the rapid blood loss.
"SISTER!!"
Ririka's voice reached her dimly.
Perhaps her sister would survive. If the assassin kept his word, Ririka could carry her will forward. If Kirari herself could not marry Akira, then her sister might do so in her place, just as she had been trained to. Ririka would take the name and live as "Momobami Kirari." She was not as sharp or as cunning, but she would learn. They were sisters, after all.
Kirari's body crumpled to the floor. Blood spread across the delicate white carpet beneath her. Her vision darkened further.
Looking back over her life, she found almost nothing of true importance.
Almost.
All that remained clear was the image of the man she loved.
'Oh, my dear Akira… how I wished I could see you one last time'
She was grateful she had at least heard his voice. Even if she never received the words, she had wanted from him…...that he loved her in return.
They said that in their final moments, people revealed who they truly were.
In her final moments, Momobami Kirari was simply…
'I love you, Akira'
A maiden in love
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(?)
(Yoshioka Akira's POV)
He stood high above the city, looking down at the streets below.
Costume-clad heroes moved through the avenues, dealing with whatever crisis the world had manufactured this time. Under normal circumstances he might have joined them. Today he was in protest mode.
That meant doing the opposite of whatever objective the System handed him.
In the past, every world came with clear instructions.
Do this.
Kill that.
Save the other.
Once the objective was complete, a short period of residual time remained before forced transportation. For a long while he had obeyed. Then he stopped. All he wanted was to return to the Prime Worlds, the ones where most of his time had been spent, where the real connections existed. Friends. Family. Lovers.
The System (or rather, the Creator behind it) kept throwing him elsewhere instead.
So, he protested by failing every objective on purpose.
Down below, the person who should have been the main character of this particular world was still alive. The objective had been failed.
[Objective Failed]
[Issuing Penalty]
"Again," he muttered flatly. "What will it be this time?"
Penalties had long since lost their meaning. Time-outs. Experience loss. Skill deletion. Level regression. None of it mattered anymore. The only thing that mattered was getting back to where the Prime Worlds waited.
[Penalty Issued: THE TRUTH]
That was new....
"[You think you are clever, aren't you?]"
The voice did not belong to the System.
"So, you are the supposed Creator," he said, still watching the city. "Finally, I get to speak to the manager. I want to file a complaint."
"[You've got jokes. I'll give you that, mortal. At first it was entertaining watching you move from world to world. You played every role well. What do your kind call it… LARPing?]"
"I aim to please."
"[Then you started to rebel. I assumed you were simply raising the difficulty for yourself. No matter what handicap I applied, no matter what I took from you, you kept moving forward. It was actually amusing. Amusing enough that I had something to mention to other entities.]"
Other entities? The fuck?
"[But now it has become boring again. So, I decided to change the outcome. Let us see what you do with the Truth.]"
[Akira. I have been ordered to tell you THE TRUTH.]
The System's familiar tone returned, quieter than usual.
'System. What is going on?'
[To put it simply… there are no so-called "Prime Worlds" to return to.]
...huh?
[The Creator's working territory is extensive. To conserve space, completed worlds are recycled. You are sent into them afterward as a new experiment. What feels like a brand-new world to you is only the previous one, rewritten.]
The words landed with the weight of a collapsing mountain.
That would mean—
No.
Nonononononononononono—
[I am sorry, Master. There are no Prime Worlds left. You have already been through them. Many times, in fact]
...…Everything he had done.
...Everything endured.
...Everything achieved.
All of it for nothing?
The entire time the goal had been to return, to live again in the worlds already explored, to stand once more beside the people who mattered.
Every other world was just a copy of his Prime Worlds
....But those worlds no longer existed.
Which meant everyone—
When the objectives had required playing the" villain"…
When his own hands had…
No.
The denial rose sharp and desperate, but the truth had already settled into place with merciless clarity.
No no no no no no no no no no
There was nowhere left to return to.
And some of the blood on those hands might once have belonged to people he had called family.
Nonononononononononononononononononononononononononono
Akira-kun~
Akira~
Brother
Praetor~
Anchin-sama~
Commander-sama~
Shikikan-sama~
Doctah~
Trainer~
Byeong-ho Oppa~
Master~
Senpai~
Husband~
Anata~
Big Brother~
Daddy~
Lord Aaden~
Manager~
Captain~
Teacher~
Sensei~
All the voices.
All the voices of those he had loved...….
Those he had believed were still waiting somewhere for him...…...
No.
NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO—
[CALM YOURSELF. YOUR POWER IS LEAKING.]
The ground around him fractured. An earthquake tore through the surrounding area as the world itself began to vibrate and disintegrate under the uncontrolled release of power.
He was mad.
He was truly, completely FUCKING MAD
"YOU GODDAMN CHEAP BASTARD! ALL THIS TIME… ALL THIS FUCKING TIME—!"
The shout tore toward the sky. No longer was any effort made to keep the power locked away. It erupted freely, and the world around him began to burn.
[Transferring starting]
[Transfer complete]
The forced transportation came instantly.
He landed hard in a dark alley of an unfamiliar world, eyes wet with tears that refused to stop.
Both fists drove into the ground with enough force to embed them in the stone and send small tremors outward.
"MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A MADDENING WHORE—THAT CHEAP-AS-DIRT BASTARD—I'LL KILL HIM. I'LL KILL HIM. I'LL KILL HIM—!"
"Hey. You alright? Your magic power is leaking."
The voice was strange, yet painfully familiar.
He turned.
A woman with scarlet hair stood nearby, one eye partially covered by the long strands. Silver armor caught what little light reached the alley. The face was one he knew better than almost any other.
"Are you alright?" she asked again.
That was not her voice.
That was not the voice that had once spoken to him with steady love.
For a moment the present image was overwritten by another: the same woman standing in a white wedding dress, her round belly swelling in the dress, tears of happiness shining on her face as she looked at him and called him—
Dear Husband~
The memory shattered
The woman in front of him remained, looking at him with polite concern and zero recognition.
A cheap copy.
A CHEAP FUCKING COPY
"May I ask who you are?" the red-haired mage asked.
That was not her.
WHY WAS THIS THING WEARING HER FACE?
His magic ignited again, hotter than before.