Chapter 2 — The Daily Life of Zenin Kyūjō
Time flowed quietly in the Zenin household.
Still in the body of a baby, Zenin Kyūjō spent most of his days doing just two things: training his body using Breathing Techniques… and devouring an absurd amount of food.
After all, in this world, there was no other form of energy he could absorb simply through breathing. He had to adapt.
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His mother, Zenin Arisa, was a kind and gentle woman—soft-spoken, yet strong in her own way. To Kyūjō's eyes, she seemed to raise her three children almost entirely on her own.
Maki and Mai, the twin girls who hadn't even turned two yet, were bundles of energy. Especially the older sister—Zenin Maki. That girl was a handful!
Kyūjō had his hands full just dealing with her. Maki would sprint toward him out of nowhere, pinch his cheeks, tug at his ears, and sometimes—she'd even poke places that really shouldn't be poked!
She was, without a doubt, a little gremlin in disguise.
And the worst part? Kyūjō was too weak to fight back. Zenin Arisa, for some reason, just brushed it off as "harmless sibling play" and never scolded Maki, even when she clearly went overboard.
What made it more infuriating was how absurdly strong Maki was for a toddler. She could already run and leap around like a wild monkey—not even two years old!
Compared to her, Mai—who was still wobbly on her feet—felt like a peaceful breeze to Kyūjō.
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Then there was their father—Zenin Ogi.
To Kyūjō, that man had no right to be called a father.
He was never there for his children. And on the rare nights he did show up, he treated Maki and Mai like they didn't even exist.
When Maki approached him once, Ogi pretended she wasn't even there. If anything didn't go his way, he'd lash out—harshly, and sometimes violently.
Kyūjō still remembered that one night… when Ogi kicked Maki.
She hadn't even turned two. Her tiny body was sent flying across the room like a ragdoll.
Zenin Arisa broke down in tears, sobbing helplessly as she held her daughter. Her heart shattered before Kyūjō's very eyes.
But what could she do?
She was just an ordinary woman with no status in the Zenin Clan, married to none other than the younger brother of the clan head himself. She had no voice, no power.
Since that day, Maki never dared approach her father again. Fear had carved itself into her tiny heart.
And every time Kyūjō saw that, something inside him boiled with rage. He cursed Zenin Ogi silently, over and over.
"I may be small now... but one day, when I'm strong enough—you'll pay for all of this."
Kyūjō swore it. One day, he would make him pay.
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Unfortunately, it didn't take long for Kyūjō himself to fall into the same pit.
Just after he turned one, he was taken in for a formal "curse technique evaluation" by Zenin Clan experts. The results?
Kyūjō had failed to inherit the clan's ancestral Cursed Technique.
And just like that, Ogi discarded him—no different than Maki and Mai.
Even though Kyūjō was a boy—slightly more valued by the clan's twisted standards—Ogi's attitude toward him turned cold and indifferent from that moment on.
Luckily for Kyūjō, he wasn't a normal child. He carried the intelligence and awareness of a grown man from a previous life.
He didn't need fatherly affection. He didn't need anything from a man like Zenin Ogi.
Kyūjō kept his talents hidden. Physically, he wasn't anything special, but thanks to his modified Breathing Techniques, he had built up a solid foundation of strength.
Still, he pretended to be just another clueless toddler.
He giggled. He babbled. He clung to his mother like any other child his age. But deep down, he was constantly analyzing—activating his Infinity Perception System in silence, watching the sorcerers of the Zenin Clan from the shadows.
He studied how they shaped and controlled Cursed Energy, how they channeled their techniques, and how the flow of power responded to their will.
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And then came the moment.
One quiet afternoon, while his mother was out running errands, Kyūjō found himself alone in his room.
He checked his surroundings—no one watching.
He took a deep breath, then focused.
He began channeling the faint traces of Cursed Energy he had gathered, guiding it deep into his core—toward the one technique that had been with him since birth.
A soft glow emerged.
In an instant, a familiar sword appeared in his small hand—a long, elegant blade shining with white light.
A Zanpakutō.
"This… this is my Zanpakutō from the Bleach world, isn't it?"
His tiny fingers trembled as they gripped the weapon.
That familiar sensation returned. His perception sharpened. Infinity resonated faintly within him.
And yet...
Kyūjō let out a quiet sigh. Disappointment clouded his face.
"It's the same weapon as before... but the boost I get from this world's Cursed Energy is way too weak…"
"Can I even reach Bankai like this…?"
Doubt began to creep in.
Even if his Bankai—Mugen—could still be unlocked, just how long would it take with such a mediocre Cursed Energy aptitude?
The clan had already branded his potential as "low-grade." His prospects were bleak.
Out of all the worlds he had reincarnated into… this was the first time he'd been given such a poor evaluation.
But what he didn't realize was this:
Without manifesting Zanpakutō Mugen through his curse-infused technique… he wouldn't be able to touch Cursed Spirits at all.
Even if he had the strength to flatten Japan with a single punch, it would mean nothing. In this world—
Only Cursed Energy can exorcise Cursed Spirits.
— — —
Time passed. Kyūjō quietly refined his personal version of Breathing Techniques—now evolved to version 4.0.
His physical body grew stronger with each passing day.
Progress with Cursed Energy remained painfully slow, but by the time he turned six, Kyūjō had already begun laying the groundwork for his future rise to power—drawing upon the secrets he'd quietly gathered within the Zenin household.
And everything had started three years ago, in 2006...
Back then, a name was frequently whispered throughout the clan—Toji Fushiguro, once known as Zenin Toji.
The Heavenly Tyrant.
Born under a Heavenly Restriction, Toji had absolutely no Cursed Energy.
But in exchange, his body became a living weapon. His senses surpassed all human limits—he could detect Cursed Spirits by sound, smell, and touch alone.
And as long as he carried cursed tools, he could stand against even elite Jujutsu Sorcerers.
But the brutal traditions of the Zenin Clan saw him as worthless. He was abused, locked in a room full of Cursed Spirits as a boy—tormented, mocked, cast aside.
That was when Toji awakened.
He slaughtered every spirit in that room, broke free, and massacred half the clan before disappearing into the outside world.
Not even the Zenin Clan, one of the Three Great Families, could stop him.
His name became taboo—forbidden to even speak aloud.
And then, three years ago…
He died.
Killed by one man: Satoru Gojo.
The taboo crumbled. And Gojo Satoru was declared the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive.
— — —
"One day, I'll surpass Toji Fushiguro…"
"Gojo Satoru… will you be able to kill me too?"
So thought Zenin Kyūjō, just six years old, as he gazed up at the sky—eyes burning with silent resolve.
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