Time quickly arrived at Yukio’s sixth birthday.
No cake.
No gifts.
No blessings.
Only a short blade handed over by Zenin Toji.
The blade was black, with an ancient-looking design.
Under the dim light, the edge gave off a cold gleam.
“Take it.”, Toji’s voice was calm.
“A cursed tool.
Little Demon Slayer.
Special-made.
Even without cursed energy, as long as you can ‘see’ cursed spirits, you can exorcise them with it.”
Toji’s tone stayed especially flat.
“Come on.
I’ll go with you.”
Yukio took the short blade and weighed it in his hand.
It felt cold.
He casually stuffed it into his pocket and declared in advance, “Even if I really see one later, I won’t exorcise it.”
Toji raised a brow.
“Why?”
“As long as you can see cursed spirits, it proves you have the qualifications to become a sorcerer.
Even if your cursed energy is weak, your status in the family will improve.”
“At least… they’ll treat you like a person.”
Yukio shook his head.
His black eyes were calm in a way no six-year-old should be.
“From the moment they decided I was trash, they became no different from roadside rocks to me.”
“Besides, I don’t need their approval.”
That made even Toji freeze for a few seconds.
He looked deeply at his little brother.
‘Where the hell did this kid learn all this stuff?’
The two arrived at the courtyard where the family conducted tests.
Quite a few people had already gathered there.
Most were Zenin clan elders, managers, and branch family members there to watch the fun.
The faces looked familiar, but Toji couldn’t be bothered remembering names, nor did he want to.
No point.
Yukio was even more direct.
In his eyes, these people were all unimportant NPCs.
Remembering their names would just waste brain cells.
A middle-aged man with a fleshy face spoke first, his tone full of undisguised mockery,
“Zenin Yukio, today is your last chance.”
“Whether you can change your fate depends on this.”
“If you still don’t have even the slightest cursed energy…”
He glanced at Toji beside him and sneered.
“Then you’ll be completely tied to your trash brother and rot at the bottom together.”
The calm look on Yukio’s little face instantly darkened.
He raised his eyes and stared at the middle-aged man, his clear voice carrying coldness, “You dumb piece of shit.”
“My brother could beat you with one hand.”
“So who’s the real trash?”
Being publicly called “piece of shit” by a six-year-old made the middle-aged man’s face turn red as he prepared to explode.
But Toji beside him laughed.
He nodded, rare approval appearing in his tone.
“Yeah.”
“My little brother’s right.”
The middle-aged man with white hair and beard sitting in the main seat, holding a sake gourd, finally raised his hand to calm the disturbance.
Zenin Naobito.
The current clan head.
Theoretically Yukio and Toji’s uncle.
He looked at Yukio calmly, businesslike.
“Zenin Yukio.
Tell us what you can see.”
Yukio remembered him.
Compared to the other clan members who practically had “villain” written on their foreheads, this clan head at least appeared fair on the surface.
Though he was still annoying.
The corner of Yukio’s mouth lifted into a mocking smile completely unsuited for his age.
He pointed toward a blurry, twisted shadow in the corner of the courtyard that gave off faint malice.
It was a low-grade cursed spirit specially placed there by the family.
Then his finger shifted toward the middle-aged man who had mocked him earlier.
“I saw it.”
“A face just as ugly as that guy’s.”
“And I also smelled…”
He sniffed, his little face wrinkling up.
“The same rotten stink as this family.”
“You little bastard!!!”
The middle-aged man completely exploded in rage.
Cursed energy surged around him as he prepared to attack.
Smack!
A loud and crisp slap echoed out.
At some point, Zenin Toji had already appeared beside him.
Holding back his strength, one slap directly sent the man, who weighed at least twice as much as him, flying off the ground and spinning into the courtyard wall.
Dust flew everywhere.
Toji shook his hand casually, speaking calmly, “I’ll answer for my little brother.”
“He doesn’t want to die.”
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Zenin Naobito looked at the middle-aged man groaning while stuck in the wall, then at the completely indifferent Toji, and ultimately chose to ignore it.
He looked back at Yukio, his tone becoming heavier, “Since you saw the cursed spirit, use your hidden cursed energy, or your inborn cursed technique, to exorcise it.”
Nearby stood a beautiful woman in luxurious kimono with a cold expression.
Theoretically Yukio’s “birth mother.”
After hearing Naobito’s words, the way she looked at Yukio seemed to shift slightly.
No longer pure coldness.
There was a trace of scrutiny now, and even the faintest hint of expectation that even she herself hadn’t noticed.
Yukio shrugged and spread his hands, his tone relaxed, “What a shame.”
“I don’t have cursed energy.
And I don’t have any cursed technique either.”
“I can’t see it, and I can’t exorcise it.”
Zenin Naobito’s brows deeply furrowed.
Yukio had already lost interest in staying.
He turned and grabbed Toji’s hand.
“Brother, let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Toji nodded and immediately prepared to leave with him.
“Wait!”, The beautifully dressed woman, Yukio’s “mother,” suddenly spoke.
Her voice sounded sharp from agitation.
The last trace of emotion on her face disappeared, replaced by deeper coldness and… disgust?
“I never should have… had any expectations for him!”
“Not even a little!”
“Trash is trash!
It always will be!”
There was even something in her eyes that Yukio couldn’t understand… hatred?
Yukio stopped and looked back at her.
His eyes were calm and emotionless, like he was looking at a stranger.
He couldn’t understand why this woman hated him.
Maybe because his “worthlessness” had shamed her in the family?
Or maybe… there were other reasons.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
He turned back around and stopped looking at her.
As for the Grade 4 cursed spirit writhing in the corner?
A Zenin clan member nearby quickly wrapped cursed energy around his hand and slapped it apart like swatting a fly.
According to common knowledge in the jujutsu world, children from sorcerer families would display cursed energy or cursed technique talent between the ages of four and six.
If there was still no reaction at six years old, they were basically judged to be “non-sorcerers.”
Yukio’s situation was exactly the same as when he had just been born.
Cursed energy, zero.
Cursed technique, none.
In the Zenin family, nobody cared about the physical potential Heavenly Restriction might bring in the future.
They only cared about what was in front of them, Heavenly Restriction = no cursed energy = unable to use cursed techniques = trash.
The logic was simple and brutal, like deciding a poor kid with no money in his pocket would never earn any in the future either.
Toji had been watching Yukio’s expression the whole time.
But he couldn’t see sadness, disappointment, or any other negative emotion on the kid’s face.
It was frighteningly calm.
He stretched out a large hand and roughly rubbed Yukio’s soft black hair.
“Let’s go.”
“Today’s your sixth birthday.”
“Big bro’s taking you out to eat something good.”
Yukio looked up, innocent confusion appearing on his little face.
“But where would we get money?”
He blinked, suddenly thinking of something, and lowered his voice, “Although…”
“They insulted us brothers just now and caused serious emotional damage.”
“Shouldn’t we maybe… ask them for some ’emotional damage compensation’?”
Toji looked at his little brother in surprise.
Then he grinned, revealing a smile that could only be described as vicious.
He vigorously rubbed Yukio’s head.
“Oh?”
“You little brat… your brain works pretty well.”
“Wait here.
I’ll go ‘discuss’ medical fees with them.”
Not long after, Toji returned.
There was now a thick stack of brand-new cash in his hand.
He casually shook it, the bills making a pleasant rustling sound.
“Let’s go, Yukio.”
Toji was clearly in a great mood.
“We’ve got money now.”
“Eat whatever you want today.
Big bro’s treating.”
He paused, then added, “Though it feels like… I’ve always been the one paying anyway.”
Yukio’s eyes instantly lit up.
Like a little money addict, he stared tightly at the stack of cash, practically sparkling.
With an “Wooo!” he pounced forward, hugging Toji’s leg with both arms and rubbing his little head against it affectionately.
“Onii-chan!”
“You really are my real big brother!
The closest, best big brother!”
“You’re the best person in the world!”
“Being your little brother must be the blessing of eight lifetimes!”
The childish flattery, paired with that delicate and adorable face now filled with “admiration”…
Zenin Toji, the future “Heavenly Tyrant” feared throughout the jujutsu world, felt the corners of his mouth rising like crazy.
He forcibly held back his smug grin and turned his face away arrogantly.
“Hmph.”
“Good that you know.”
“This is what an onii-chan… should do.”
Yukio struck while the iron was hot, quickly climbing onto Toji’s back.
His legs clamped around Toji’s neck while his little hands grabbed his hair.
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
“We’re eating a feast!”
Toji instinctively wanted to pull this lawless brat down.
But then he thought again…
Today was his sixth birthday.
He failed the test and had just been pointed at and cursed out by a bunch of idiots.
Forget it.
He’d spoil him once.
Just this once.
Keeping a serious face, he warned, “No next time.”
Yukio sat on his shoulders, swinging his little legs and grinning, completely ignoring the warning.
“Today…”
“I’m eating until I throw up!”
Toji carried him on his back as they walked away from the Zenin family.
The sunset stretched their shadows long across the ground.
He smiled helplessly, indulgence in his voice that even he himself hadn’t noticed, “Yeah, yeah.”
“Eat as much as you want.”