"Let's talk about your Blood Puppet Manipulation."
Shinichi and the other two had gathered in a secluded training ground on the Kamo estate. Three
years of preparation had transformed all of them—but there was always room for improvement.
"My technique can control specially prepared puppets," Kengen explained. "The more puppets I
control simultaneously, the less precise my manipulation becomes. It's an inverse relationship."
After witnessing Shinichi's growth over the years, Kamo Kengen had become one of his most loyal
allies. The rivalry that had once defined their relationship had evolved into genuine respect.
"Have you ever tried controlling objects on the spot? Without prior preparation?"
"On-site control?"
"Like this."
Shinichi picked up a branch, sharpened it with Blood Edge, and planted it in the ground.
"Try manipulating this. Right now."
Kengen frowned, then approached the branch and activated his technique. Red lines slowly crawled
across the wood, connected by threads of blood from his fingertips.
After a moment's concentration, Kengen made the branch float to his hand.
"Not bad. But it takes more energy than prepared puppets."
"I noticed." Shinichi had been observing with his Purple Eyes. The cursed energy signature in
Kengen's blood matched the energy pattern in the manipulated object perfectly. "The principle is
the same, but the efficiency drops dramatically without pre-inscription."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Prepare cursed tools in advance. Small ones—knives, needles, throwing weapons. Inscribe them
properly, then keep them on your person. During battle, you can manipulate them remotely while
engaging in close combat. It gives you versatility without sacrificing precision."
Kengen considered this. "That... actually makes sense. Why didn't I think of it?"
"You were too focused on the traditional puppets. Sometimes the best innovation comes from
applying old techniques in new ways."
With Kengen working on his new approach, Shinichi turned to Kenki.
"Alright, your turn. What techniques have you mastered?"
Kenki listed them off: "Piercing Blood, Crimson Binding, Flowing Red Scale."
"Good foundation. But you're missing some intermediate techniques. Crimson Torrent, Blood Edge,
Supernova."
"I've seen you use those. They're... difficult."
"Not as difficult as you think. The key is understanding blood at the cellular level, not just the
macro level."
Shinichi launched into an explanation that would have baffled most adult sorcerers—the
relationship between platelets and coagulation, the role of cursed energy in accelerating natural
processes, the precise manipulation required to affect blood outside the body.
Kenki listened attentively, taking mental notes.
"The Purple Eyes help," Shinichi admitted. "But the underlying principles can be learned by anyone
with Blood Manipulation. It just takes practice."
"Then teach me."
"That's the plan."
Over the following month, the three trained relentlessly. Kenki mastered Crimson Torrent and Blood
Edge. Kengen developed a new fighting style that combined puppet manipulation with close-quarters
combat. And Shinichi pushed himself further, exploring the edges of what Blood Manipulation could
accomplish.
His latest discovery came during a hunting trip on the mountain behind the estate.
"Blood Manipulation—Blood Coagulation."
The deer he'd tagged with Blood Edge stopped running, then collapsed. It wasn't dead—just
paralyzed, its blood thickened beyond what its heart could pump.
"What was that?" Kengen asked, amazed.
"An extension of Blood Manipulation. Instead of controlling your own blood, you inject cursed
energy into a target's bloodstream and manipulate their blood from within."
"That should be impossible. Blood Manipulation only works on your own blood."
"That's what everyone assumed. But the actual principle is about manipulating blood that contains
your cursed energy. If you inject your energy into someone else's blood..." Shinichi gestured at
the immobilized deer. "This happens."
Kenki stared at his younger brother with something approaching awe. "Shinichi, that's terrifying."
"I know. Which is why I'm not telling anyone else about it for now." He met both their eyes. "Keep
this between us."
They nodded.
Some weapons were better kept secret.
The quiet of the Kamo estate was shattered by a familiar presence.
"Hey, kid."
Shinichi turned to find Toji Fushiguro lounging against a tree, as if he hadn't been officially
dead for nearly three years.
"The barrier security hasn't improved, I see."
"Whatever. The barrier wasn't set by me."
Toji smirked at Shinichi's deadpan response. "You've grown. What are you now, eight?"
"Almost nine."
"Still short."
"Still rude."
They settled into comfortable banter—the strange relationship they'd developed over years of
sporadic contact. Toji was still a killer, still dangerous, still fundamentally broken. But he was
also... present. More than he'd ever been in his son's life.
"How's Megumi?"
"Good. He's at Jujutsu High most weeks. That white-haired idiot is teaching him the Ten Shadows
Technique." Toji paused. "He's talented. More than I expected."
"And Tsumiki?"
"Safe. Healthy. Going to a normal school, living a normal life." Another pause. "Thanks. For
that."
It was as close to gratitude as Toji ever came.
"You're welcome." Shinichi studied him. "What brings you here? I assume it's not a social visit."
"Training. You asked me to teach you how to fight. I've been putting it off."
Shinichi's eyes lit up. "You're serious?"
"Don't get too excited. My methods are... intensive."
"I can handle it."
Toji's grin was predatory. "We'll see."
"Intensive" was an understatement.
Toji's training regimen began at the top of the mountain behind the estate. The air was thin, the
terrain treacherous, and the exercises brutal.
"One hundred push-ups. One hundred squats. One hundred sit-ups. Then run ten kilometers around the
summit."
Shinichi stared at him. "That's impossible without cursed energy reinforcement."
"Correct. No cursed energy allowed."
"I'll die."
"Probably not. But you'll wish you had."
The training was agonizing. Within an hour, Shinichi's muscles were screaming. Within two, he
could barely move. And Toji just watched, occasionally offering tips about breathing control and
body mechanics.
"The body is a weapon," Toji explained between Shinichi's gasps for air. "Sorcerers forget that.
They rely too heavily on cursed techniques, cursed energy, cursed tools. Take those away, and most
of them are helpless."
"You... don't have... cursed energy..."
"Exactly. So I had to become something else. Faster, stronger, more resilient than anyone
expected." Toji crouched beside the exhausted Shinichi. "You have cursed energy. Powerful
techniques. But what happens when you face someone like me? Someone your techniques don't work
on?"
Shinichi didn't have an answer.
"That's what I thought. Now get up. We're not done."
By sunset, Shinichi could barely stand. Toji carried him back down the mountain—not gently, but
efficiently.
"Same time tomorrow."
"I hate you."
"Good. Hate is fuel."
The training continued for weeks. Gradually, Shinichi's body adapted. His reflexes sharpened. His
endurance increased. He learned to read opponents not through cursed energy, but through body
language—the subtle tells that preceded every attack.
"You're improving," Toji admitted one evening, as they ate roasted deer meat by a campfire.
"I can almost keep up with you now."
"You can almost keep up with me at one percent effort. Don't get cocky."
Shinichi laughed. "Fair point."
They ate in comfortable silence. Above them, stars wheeled through the darkness.
"Shinichi."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For Megumi. For giving me a reason to..." Toji trailed off, uncharacteristically
uncertain. "To not throw everything away."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. But I wanted to." Toji stood, brushing dirt from his clothes. "I should go. Places to be,
people to not kill."
"Will I see you again?"
"Probably. You're hard to get rid of."
And then he was gone, vanishing into the night as silently as he'd arrived.