Location: Main Kamo Estate, Dining Hall
Time: 07:00 PM
Kamo Kenji poured hot sake into a small ceramic cup.
SPLASH.
He set the bottle down on the low wooden table.
"...The Zenin brothers are cutting each other's throats again," Kenji said.
He picked up his cup and took a slow sip.
"...Because their prized techniques are rare, brothers kill brothers to steal the leadership seat."
Kamo Shiro picked at a piece of grilled fish with his chopsticks.
"Let them fight," Shiro muttered. "...The Kamo clan is the most politically secure and stable of the families right now."
Shiro dropped the fish back onto his plate.
CLACK.
"...We just renewed our contracts with the imperial government," Shiro continued. "They rely on us for creating barrier techniques to protect Kyoto and Tokyo."
Kenji poured himself another cup of sake.
"Yes," Kenji agreed. "...The Gojo clan is completely dependent on whether a Six Eyes user is alive, and right now they have no one."
Shiro rubbed his chin.
"...Our only real task is maintaining the bloodline," Shiro whispered.
"And we always have an heir ready," Kenji replied, pointing his cup at his brother.
Kenji looked toward the closed paper doors at the front of the dining hall.
"...Three of my concubines gave birth this year," Kenji said. "And your legitimate wife just had another son."
Shiro leaned forward over the table.
"None of them have awakened Blood Manipulation yet," Shiro said. "...We need to ensure a continuous line of strong leaders."
Footsteps echoed from the wooden hallway outside.
STOMP. STOMP.
Both men stopped talking.
Kenji set his ceramic cup down immediately. Shiro sat up completely straight and fixed his collar.
The sliding paper doors opened.
SHHHHK.
Noritoshi Kamo walked into the dining hall.
He was seventy-four years old. He wore a pristine, dark layered kimono.
A tall, stiff black silk hat sat tightly on his head. The traditional eboshi pulled his hair back and covered his forehead completely.
He carried an aura of absolute authority. The Jujutsu world viewed him as a brilliant, highly capable, and deeply traditional clan head.
"...You are drinking early, Kenji," Noritoshi said.
His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding.
"Apologies, Father," Kenji said. He bowed his head deeply.
Noritoshi walked to the head of the table. He sat down gracefully on the thick cushion.
He looked at his two adult sons. He did not look angry or desperate. He looked entirely in control.
"...Report," Noritoshi.
Shiro swallowed hard.
"The... the imperial government just sent their regards, Father," Shiro said. "...They are extremely pleased with our Onmyodo masters."
Noritoshi slowly reached out and picked up a pair of wooden chopsticks.
"Good," Noritoshi said. "We are viewed as refined noblemen and scholars. ...Let the Zenin continue acting like thuggish mercenaries."
Noritoshi picked up a piece of white rice. He placed it in his mouth and chewed slowly.
"...What of the eastern wing?" Noritoshi asked.
Kenji cleared his throat.
"We tested the new children today," Kenji replied. "Average cursed energy... some awakened average innate techniques and most of the children had none."
Noritoshi set his chopsticks down.
CLACK.
He just gave a slow, calculated nod.
"Blood Manipulation is common enough in our history," Noritoshi stated. "...It spawns almost every generation."
He looked directly at Kenji.
"...Take another concubine if you must," Noritoshi ordered casually. "We will not leave our succession to chance."
Kenji bowed his head again.
"Yes, Father," Kenji said quietly.
Noritoshi poured himself a cup of hot tea.
"...Have the branch instructors reported any promising children?" Noritoshi asked.
Shiro shook his head.
"Shigeru is training a new batch of four-year-olds," Shiro said. "...He says they are obedient. They are learning their etiquette and barriers."
Noritoshi picked up his teacup.
"Keep watching them," Noritoshi said. "A strong branch family ensures our stability."
Sip.
He took a slow sip of the tea.
He stood up from the cushion and smoothed out the front of his kimono.
"I have clan documents to review," Noritoshi announced.
Both sons bowed until their foreheads almost touched the table.
"Yes, Father," they said in unison.
Noritoshi turned around and walked out the door.
--<>--
Location: Noritoshi's Private Quarters
Time: 09:30 PM
Noritoshi walked down the long, empty wooden hallway.
He reached the end of the corridor.
A frail, elderly woman sat on a cushion near a sliding door.
It was his legal wife.
She bowed her head as he approached.
"...My lord," she said softly. "I prepared your bed."
Noritoshi stopped walking.
"I will sleep in my study tonight," Noritoshi said.
The elderly woman kept her head down.
"...You work too much," she whispered.
Noritoshi looked down at her gray hair.
"The clan requires it," Noritoshi replied.
He stepped past her and opened the wooden door to his study.
SHHHHK.
He walked inside and slid the door shut behind him.
He stood in the center of the dark room. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.
POP.
The stiff, traditional posture of the Kamo patriarch vanished completely.
A relaxed, amused smirk spread across his face.
'Playing the strict father and good clan leader is exhausting.'
He brought his right hand up to his mouth.
He bit down hard on his thumb.
CRUNCH.
Dark red blood spilled from the wound.
He crouched down and pressed his bleeding thumb against a perfectly plain floorboard.
He channeled his cursed energy into the wood.
A hidden Onmyodo talisman flared with dark light.
CLACK.
The wood slid backward. A hidden stone staircase revealed itself.
Noritoshi stood up and walked down the dark, damp steps.
The air grew freezing cold.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into a sprawling underground chamber.
Six tall glass cylinders lined the far wall.
They were filled with thick, green preserving fluid and covered in paper sealing talismans.
Noritoshi walked over to the cylinders.
He tapped the glass of the first container.
TAP. TAP.
A small, preserved human fetus floated inside the liquid.
It was the first Cursed Womb: Death Painting.
"...Number one," Noritoshi muttered. "You are definitely the strongest."
He dragged his finger across the glass.
He looked at the subsequent cylinders lined up in a row.
They represented the nine stages of a decaying corpse.
He stopped at the sixth cylinder. The fetus inside was significantly smaller and held weaker cursed energy than the first.
'With each successive birth, the potency of the ancestral blood degrades. The essence of the Kamo lineage is thinning, leaving the later vessels hollow,' Noritoshi thought.
The consecutive experiments yielded diminishing returns.
The later fetuses barely held any stability.
He turned away from the glass.
He stopped at the center of the room. A large stone slab sat directly under a single hanging lantern.
A young woman lay on the stone slab.
Heavy iron chains wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles.
Her skin was completely pale. Her breathing was so shallow her chest barely moved.
Noritoshi looked down at her stomach.
It was covered in dark purple bruises and stretched skin.
"You really are a medical miracle," Noritoshi smiled.
He reached out and placed his right hand flat against her ruined stomach.
He pushed raw, positive energy into her body.
He used the Reverse Cursed Technique.
The dark purple bruises slowly faded. The torn skin stitched itself back together.
Gah.
The woman gasped softly in her forced sleep.
Noritoshi pulled his hand back.
Cursed spirits could never mate with a human. They were made of pure energy.
This chained woman possessed a unique genetic anomaly bridging that gap.
Noritoshi found it absolutely fascinating.
"...Three parents," Noritoshi whispered to her sleeping face. "...You, the cursed spirit, and my own Kamo blood."
He injected his own blood into her womb during the development to alter the DNA.
He aborted the fetuses early to trap them in a cursed womb state.
Birthing them full-term would have destroyed her body years ago.
He needed her alive. The project required nine full pregnancies.
Noritoshi turned away from the stone slab.
He walked over to a small wooden desk in the corner of the lab.
And sat down and picked up a bamboo brush.
He dipped it into a pot of black ink.
TAP.
Noritoshi unrolled a long paper scroll.
He began writing detailed notes on the sixth fetus and documented the exact cursed energy decay.
He wrote out the established patterns and calculated the exact blood proportions for the upcoming seventh pregnancy.
A genuine, manic smile stretched across his face.
'I wonder if number seven will just turn to ash.'
He didn't feel anger nor feel pity for the chained woman.
He was just a curious sorcerer playing with his favorite toys.
SWISH.
The bamboo brush scratched against the paper for hours.
--<>--
Location: Branch Family Training Grounds
Time: 06:00 AM
The morning air was cold. Dirt stuck to the bottom of their bare feet.
THWACK.
Ren swung a heavy wooden sword against a thick wooden post.
"Good," Kamo Goro grunted. "Keep your wrists straight."
Goro was a Grade 1 sorcerer. He wore a faded black kimono and had thick, yellow calluses on his knuckles.
He walked down the line of children.
Hanzo raised his own wooden sword. His four-year-old arms shook violently.
He swung the weapon forward.
CLACK.
The sword barely scratched the bark of the wooden post. It bounced off weakly.
Huff-puff.
Hanzo dropped his arms and panted.
His adult mind knew exactly how to swing the sword. His toddler body simply lacked the muscle.
"...You swing like a wet noodle, kid," Goro sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Hanzo bowed his head.
"Sorry, Goro-sensei," Hanzo said. 'No shit. I'm a four years old.'
Goro waved his hand.
"...Take a water break," Goro announced. "Five minutes."
The children immediately dropped their swords in the dirt.
They ran toward a large wooden bucket near the fence.
Ren scooped water with a bamboo ladle and drank quickly.
GULP. GULP.
Hanzo walked over and leaned against the wooden fence.
"...You are really good at this, Ren," Hanzo said. He wiped sweat from his chin.
Ren grinned and handed the ladle to Yumi.
"My dad makes me chop firewood," Ren boasted. "...The sword is actually lighter."
Yumi took a sip of water. She looked at her small palms.
"...I hate this," Yumi complained. She sniffled. "...I have three splinters already."
"Me too," Daiki agreed. He rubbed his sore shoulder.
Hanzo picked up the ladle next.
"...At least you guys can actually hit the post," Hanzo smiled. "My arms feel like they are going to fall off."
Ren patted Hanzo on the back.
"...Don't worry, Hanzo," Ren said proudly. "I will protect you if a curse attacks us."
Hanzo gave him a grateful nod.
'Perfect.'
He was officially the normal friend.
--<>--
Location: Archery Range, Branch Grounds
Time: 02:00 PM (Two Weeks Later)
Twenty children pulled back traditional bamboo bows.
The bows were entirely too heavy for their small bodies.
Hanzo held the thick bowstring near his cheek.
The rough fibers dug into his blistered fingers.
His shoulders burned.
Goro walked slowly behind the line of shaking children.
"...Do not let go," Goro ordered.
Yumi was crying silently. Tears rolled down her dirty cheeks, but she kept her bow drawn.
"Kyudo at your age is not about hitting the target," Goro said.
He stopped behind Hanzo.
"...It is about holding the tension," Goro continued. "It is about breathing through the pain."
Huff
Hanzo inhaled slowly through his nose.
His arms felt completely numb.
"...Curses feed on your fear and your anger," Goro explained. He adjusted Ren's elbow. "...If you cannot control your own frustration, your cursed energy will harm you."
Hanzo kept his eyes on the wooden target fifty yards away.
Puff.
He exhaled through his mouth.
'So that is the logic.'
He remembered his past life in India. Extreme stress and anxiety always triggered his chronic stomach illness.
The Kamo clan was using physical torture to teach toddlers emotional control.
If they could handle physical agony now, they could handle the burden of cursed energy later.
"...Release!" Goro yelled.
THWIP.
Twenty wooden arrows flew through the air.
Most of them hit the dirt halfway to the targets.
"Grab another arrow!" Goro barked.
--<>--
Location: Branch Training Courtyard
Time: 05:00 PM (Five Months Later)
The children sat in the seiza kneeling position on the hard, packed dirt of the courtyard.
No one moved.
Hanzo kept his hands flat on his thighs.
Small rocks dug sharply into his knees. His calves throbbed with a dull, heavy ache.
Daiki let out a quiet sob from the row behind Hanzo.
Yumi sat to Hanzo's right. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably.
Goro walked the perimeter of the courtyard holding a thin bamboo cane.
He turned the corner and walked behind the back row.
Hanzo leaned his head just an inch to the right.
"...Yumi," Hanzo whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Yumi sniffled.
"...Count the pebbles," Hanzo mumbled quietly. "Just look at the dirt and count them in your head."
He kept his eyes straight ahead.
"...It tricks your brain," Hanzo added.
Yumi lowered her eyes to the dirt in front of her knees. Her shaking slowly started to stop.
Footsteps crunched in the dirt right behind Hanzo.
CRUNCH.
Hanzo closed his mouth.
Goro stood directly over him.
"No talking," Goro stated.
WHACK.
Goro brought the bamboo cane down hard across Hanzo's left shoulder.
Hanzo bit his bottom lip.
He didn't scream nor cry.
Being able to briefly feel a literal bombing in a desert made this pain feel manageable.
Goro stared down at him for a few seconds.
"...Keep your back straight, Hanzo," Goro grunted.
Goro walked away to check the front row.
Huff.
Hanzo slowly let out a breath.
Ten more minutes passed in complete silence.
"...Class is over," Goro finally announced. "Go home."
The entire group of children instantly collapsed onto the dirt.
THUD.
Daiki rolled onto his back. "Sensei is so strict."
Hanzo fell sideways onto his hip. He rubbed his sore knees.
"...Ah, my legs are dead," Hanzo joked.
Ren crawled over to him through the dust.
"...Thanks for the pebble trick," Yumi whispered from the dirt beside him.
She gave him a genuine smile.
Hanzo smiled back. "No problem."
--<>--
Location: Hanzo's Bedroom
Time: 09:00 PM
Hanzo sat in the dark.
He stared at a rolled-up genealogy scroll on his floor.
It had been five months of swinging wooden swords and getting hit with bamboo sticks.
'I am so incredibly bored.'
He rubbed his sore knees.
There were no smartphones in 1893. There were no anime episodes to watch.
If he wanted to read something, the clan only handed him lists of dead people.
He basically studied and meditated every night just to keep his mind from going crazy.
He closed his eyes and adjusted his posture into a perfect seiza.
Goro-sensei hammered the lesson into their heads every single afternoon.
Cursed energy came from the gut. It was fueled entirely by negative human emotion.
'Being calm is actually holding me back. Let's try something new this time. Maybe it will work.'
He always suppressed his bad memories from his past life.
HUUF.
He took a slow, deep breath.
Hanzo forced himself to remember the cold courtroom in India.
He pictured the female judge pushing the attendance logs and evidence across the wooden desk.
He saw the smirk on his cousin's face.
He heard the flatline of his mother's heart monitor in the sterile hospital room.
He remembered his grandma who died.
Then he felt the heat of the bomb dropping onto the roof.
A few minutes of visualization for everything. Scene by scene. Back to back.
The betrayal and unjust.
Then.
Pure, boiling spite flooded his chest. The absolute unfairness of his past life clawed at his throat.
FSSS.
The air inside his bedroom suddenly distorted.
It looked exactly like television static fuzzing across his vision.
Hanzo opened his eyes.
"What's going on?!"
The room looked completely wrong.
He slowly looked up at the wooden rafters above his bed.
A grotesque, multi-eyed creature clung to the wood like a bloated spider.
"The hell!?"
It had been sitting there watching him sleep for two years.
He just couldn't see it until this exact second.
A violent, sickening drop hit the bottom of his stomach.
It didn't feel like his old gastrointestinal illness.
It felt like swallowing a bucket of ice water while falling off a roof.
His skin suddenly felt like it was boiling hot.
The temperature in the small bedroom plummeted.
HUFF.
"Stay clam...."
Hanzo exhaled. His breath plumed into a white cloud of freezing mist.
The air around him grew unnaturally heavy.
He tried to hold the static pressure inside his gut.
A four-year-old body had zero physical pathways built to contain adult-level grief and spite.
But.
Hanzo couldn't hold it back.
The energy exploded outward purely on instinct.
BAAAM.
A shockwave of dense, dark blue energy blasted from his chest.
CRACK.
The wooden floorboards under his knees splintered.
RIP.
The paper sliding doors tore completely off their wooden tracks.
The small candle in the corner shattered into pieces.
Hanzo stared down at his small hands.
Thick, flickering dark blue cursed energy engulfed his fingers entirely.
'So this is cursed energy?'
He gripped his fists tightly.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the wooden hallway outside.
STOMP. STOMP.
"...Hanzo!" Noboru yelled.
Noboru shoved the broken paper doors aside. He held his short blade gripped tightly in his right hand.
"...What happened?" Noboru gasped, looking at the cracked floor.
Hanzo looked up at his father. The dark blue energy still danced across his knuckles.
"...I think I awakened it, Father," Hanzo said quietly. "But..."