1. Naoya Zen'in – Training Without Rest
The air inside the Zen'in clan's private dojo was thick and hot, thick with sweat, dust, and a tension so sharp it seemed like a blade could cut it. Night had fallen hours ago, but Naoya continued to train relentlessly. His body was a fleeting shadow that flickered between the edges of the room, repeating the same movement over and over, like an obsession: activating his new cursed "time-skip"-inspired technique.
"1.1 seconds… again. Damn it…" he spat, panting.
He was alone, or so he thought. His labored breathing mingled with the dry sound of his feet sliding on the tatami. His kimono was soaked with sweat, and his face showed a dangerous mix of frustration and euphoria.
"It's not enough! This isn't enough!" he growled, activating the technique once more.
For a split second, his body disappeared… and reappeared in front of the wooden dummy that had been shattered countless times.
—1.3 seconds… I'm close. I'm damn close!
Naoya sank to his knees, sweating profusely, his body trembling from the expenditure of cursed energy. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
—If I want to catch up with Gojo Satoru… with Toji… with that bastard Sukuna… I have to break this damn limit.
He lay on his back, staring at the dojo's wooden ceiling. His eyes glowed like those of a hungry predator. The image of Hit, the assassin from Universe 6 in Dragon Ball Super, capable of freezing time for tenths of a second, flashed through his mind.
—He started with 0.1 seconds… and reached 1.5. I'm already close… But the body… my body… can't take it yet. This technique… isn't a domain expansion. It's something else. It's... mine.
And then, he smiled.
"I don't need more. If I can move 1.5 seconds ahead of anyone... who can touch me?"
His smile grew crueler, more arrogant.
"But I need certainty... surgical precision. Not just strength. Time. I need to control time as if it were an extension of my own body."
2. Elder Zen'in – Silent Observer
High in the dojo's outer corridor, hidden by a gridded wooden screen, Elder Masaki Zen'in watched silently. He was one of the oldest members of the clan, someone who rarely intervened, but who had witnessed entire generations rise... and fall.
Naoya didn't know he was being watched. But the old man had been there for hours, without making the slightest noise.
"His energy... is like a thorn in the clan's eye," Masaki thought, frowning. "This new technique... is not something learned here. It's... foreign." Unnatural.
He watched as Naoya vanished into thin air and reappeared with pinpoint precision, as if space and time were bending slightly to his will. Each attempt made him faster, more precise… more fearsome.
"It's not just his technique that worries me," he reflected. "It's his gaze. It's that brilliance… that arrogance reminiscent of the great monsters this clan spawned and then couldn't control."
A faint shudder ran down the old man's spine.
"What if it's too late to stop him?"
3. The Servant – Witness to the Abyss
Takeshi, a young servant in charge of bringing clean towels to the dojo, quietly opened the door. He hadn't expected anyone to be there at this hour. But when he saw Naoya, he froze.
"Lord Naoya? I just came to drop this off…"
Naoya slowly turned to face him. He was kneeling, his body covered in sweat, his eyes wide open, but the most disturbing thing was his smile.
"Did I tell you you could talk to me?" His voice was like a knife.
Takeshi swallowed.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just..."
Naoya disappeared. In less than a blink of an eye, he was two feet from the boy. Takeshi could barely see the movement. The young man froze. Something inside his stomach twisted in pure terror.
"Did you see that?" Naoya said mockingly. "It's what separates gods from rats."
"S-sir..."
"Do you think you could do something like that? With that weak body? That brittle mind?"
Takeshi looked down, trembling.
Naoya turned away, disdainful.
"Get out before I have an accident... a fast one."
The servant fled, tripping over himself.
4. Naoya – Final Thoughts
Alone again, Naoya allowed himself to close his eyes. The energy inside him thrummed like a running engine. He felt unstoppable… almost.
But then, he remembered the words he had read years ago, etched in an old science fiction novel. A phrase that had resonated with him like an omen:
"Time always finds its limit."
And in that moment, he knew.
"1.5 seconds. I can't make it through. Not yet. The body… would collapse."
He slowly stood up. It wasn't frustration that filled him, but an unnatural calm.
"Then… I'll simply become lethal within that timeframe."
He smiled cruelly. A cursed aura began to emanate from his body.
"In 1.5 seconds… I can slit a throat, break bones, disappear, and reappear." What does it matter if I can't go any further... if no one can reach me anymore?
And with that, he activated the technique one last time.
The room was empty for a split second.
When he was back in place, he murmured,
"My power... my jump... is perfect."
"And if it isn't... I'll make it perfect with blood."