The Zen'in compound stood far from the city—its clustered buildings a solemn sight in the distance. Like Jujutsu High, the compound was protected by a barrier that kept ordinary civilians away, though such defenses meant little to Jujutsu Sorcerers who already knew its location.
As Kamihara Hajime and Maki approached the outer perimeter, they were stopped by two stationed guards.
"Maki... and Special Grade Sorcerer Kamihara Hajime?" one of them asked, visibly uneasy.
Though neither visitor exuded hostility, the unexpected arrival of someone like Hajime clearly rattled them. Word had spread within the clan: Naoya had returned in a rage not long ago, and it apparently had something to do with this man.
Maki barely acknowledged the two; she couldn't even recall their names. Hajime, however, kept his tone calm and cordial. "I've come to speak with Zen'in Naobito—the clan head. It's a matter of importance. Please let him know."
The guards exchanged a glance. One quickly turned to deliver the message, while the other guided the guests to a reception room. Before long, Hajime and Maki found themselves alone.
"You can meet with the clan head by yourself," Maki said, crossing her arms. "Just stick to what I told you. Talk to him directly. They won't lay a hand on you anyway. I've got other things to handle, so I'm not going with you."
Hajime gave her a side glance. Her mind was clearly elsewhere—rare, for someone like Maki. "If something's bothering you, just say it. Since when are you the sentimental type?"
Snapped from her thoughts, Maki scowled. "You talk too much. I know what I'm doing. If it goes sideways, I'll call you—free labor, remember?"
He wagged a finger at her. "Wrong. My next decent meal depends on you."
She snorted, and as the banter faded, he added, "You're kind of a celebrity now. Can you even go outside without starting a scene?"
After she left, Hajime sat quietly. One cup of tea later and still no sign of anyone, he stood up, his patience wearing thin.
The guards were nowhere to be seen. On his way through the halls, Hajime stopped a maid. She looked startled, but he managed to gather directions to the clan head's location from her cautious answers.
The compound's atmosphere was stifling. Servants avoided eye contact, and Zen'in members only gave curt nods—more out of politeness than respect. No one tried to stop him, though. At least they understood his strength.
The courtyard he finally arrived at was well-guarded, though Hajime could tell the spellcasters stationed there were mostly for show. He sensed hidden sentries too—until he neared the main house, where they mysteriously vanished.
As soon as Hajime dispelled his Technique, he heard raised voices from inside. He walked in without knocking.
Everyone fell silent. They'd assumed someone had barged in by mistake, but their scolding died the moment they saw who it was.
"Kamihara Hajime!" snapped a young blond man—Zen'in Naoya.
Hajime recognized the sharp tongue and arrogant posture.
"Oh? If it isn't Zen'in's favorite troublemaker," he said with a light smirk. "What a coincidence. I was starting to think nobody was home."
"You—"
Naoya's temper flared, but before he could explode, the man seated in the center of the room raised a hand.
"Please excuse the lack of proper welcome," said Zen'in Naobito, the clan's head. "Family matters, nothing more. Since you're here, do tell us what brings you."
Naobito, with his stark white hair and muscular frame, sat with a relaxed posture, holding a gourd of red wine. What caught Hajime's eye most, however, was the man's perfectly styled mustache, sticking out like twin antennae.
'How much maintenance does that thing need?' Hajime wondered.
Naobito was more than just appearance, though. He was the father of Naoya and once known as the fastest Sorcerer after Gojo Satoru—thanks to his Projection Sorcery. But those days were long past.
"I'm here on a minor request," Hajime began. "You're likely aware of Master Tengen's plan. We've developed a method to mass-produce low-grade cursed tools to support our operations. To optimize this, I'd like to observe the Zen'in technique for crafting cursed tools."
"Impossible!" Naoya barked. "Why should we hand over our clan's secret? Planning to steal it?"
Hajime ignored him and looked directly at Naobito. "The world's changing. This is a mutually beneficial opportunity. Those who can't see that... well, I'm sure you're not one of them."
The insult landed, judging by the glares from several elders nearby. Still, no one acted—not with Hajime present.
Naobito leaned forward slightly, swirling the wine in his gourd. "And what do you plan to accomplish with this method?"
"Enough to give civilians a fighting chance," Hajime answered. "At least against low-grade Curses."
A long-haired elder with a tied ponytail frowned. "You're talking about mass production—how? There aren't enough Spellcasters to make that possible."
"My Technique manipulates time," Hajime said, casual as ever. "Master Tengen and I created a barrier system where time flows hundreds of times faster inside, supported by a constant Cursed Energy stream. A small team can oversee an entire cursed tool assembly line."
Naobito sat up straighter. "So you've modernized the process?"
"Exactly."
After a pause, Naobito asked the real question: "You're aligned with the Gojo Family. Why come to Zen'in? You're not here just for our 'icing on the cake,' are you?"
Hajime sighed. "Gojo and Zen'in had their major fallout when both previous heads died in that imperial duel. Since then, it's just petty disputes. And in the middle of this disaster, are you really still thinking about petty pride?"
Naobito narrowed his eyes, then chuckled. "Perhaps I was small-minded. Very well. We'll cooperate."
The other elders looked displeased, but Naobito was the one with authority.
Still, the elder from before raised another concern. "What about profits? This will go nationwide. What's Zen'in's cut?"
"This might disappoint you," Hajime replied flatly. "The idea is to keep profits as close to zero as possible—to benefit the people. There won't be mountains of cash."
Grumbles started, but Naobito silenced them with a swig of wine. "That doesn't matter. Participation is enough. I'll send someone for the records."
He paused, then added, "But I have one more request—something personal."
Hajime tilted his head.
"You and Megumi Fushiguro were both raised by Gojo Satoru, weren't you? Help me convince him to return to the Zen'in clan. I want to name him the next head."
The room went quiet. Hajime stared. Even Naoya's face twisted into disbelief.
The elder beside Naobito opened his mouth to protest, but the clan head raised a hand. "It's not a demand—just a message I want you to pass along. He has Zen'in blood. That's all."
"I'll pass it on," Hajime said flatly. "But I doubt he'll agree."
"That's fine," Naobito nodded.
The elder who had spoken earlier returned shortly with a book—thin, string-bound, and clearly a photocopy. Naobito waved it toward Hajime.
"Our cursed tool method. Someone will escort you out."
But Hajime declined politely. "I came with Maki. I'll find her first."
He was led through the compound until he found Maki again—clothes a little scuffed, irritation on her face.
"Let's go."
Apparently, she'd gotten into a few rounds of fighting during her time alone. She described it as "teaching some trash a lesson." Knowing Maki, it was probably worse than she let on, but Hajime didn't press.
After returning to Jujutsu High and handing the technique to Principal Yaga, Hajime quickly distanced himself from the logistics. The cursed tool project was tedious. He'd rather exorcise spirits.
Barrier construction had begun. The cursed tools would follow. The world, now aware of Jujutsu, needed more than Sorcerers. And so, recruitment for Supervisors began.
Unlike Sorcerers, Supervisors didn't need Techniques. Just the ability to handle basic cursed tasks with enough Cursed Energy. With mass production on the way and barriers going up, manpower was sorely needed.
Out of over a hundred million people, there were always a few with dormant potential.
But they had to be under thirty. Older people who hadn't awakened yet had almost no chance of doing so—exceptions were rare.
The Jujutsu world was changing fast. Some even suggested building public Jujutsu schools. But none of that concerned Hajime.
He'd just received a mission—and it wasn't your average Curse.
A special-grade Cursed Spirit had emerged, straight from the depths of imagination.
Sadako Yamamura.
A name pulled from horror fiction and pop culture. Now a real threat.
"Tch... didn't expect to see her show up for real," Hajime muttered.
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