Reiji Kamo was in a bind.
He sat alone in a room within the Kamo estate, the space heavy with silence. The walls were dull and worn with age, yet meticulously maintained. Every crack had been repaired, every surface was polished, lending the room a ceremonial atmosphere. It almost had a sacred glow, as though time had been preserved here out of reverence rather than neglect.
Beside him lay a bed.
Upon it rested his master, Dairoku Kamo, unconscious and unmoving.
Reiji had already informed the other elders and administered reverse cursed technique to stabilize him. Despite his advanced age, the old man's constitution was formidable. Reiji knew, with near certainty, that Dairoku would awaken the very same day.
As if answering that expectation, the old man stirred.
A low groan escaped his lips.
"...What's going on…?" Dairoku muttered, his voice was hoarse and unfocused as his sharp eyes slowly opened.
They adjusted, then landed on Reiji.
"…Brat?"
Relief flickered across Reiji's face, though concern quickly reclaimed it.
Dairoku immediately tried to push himself upright, as if remaining prone in front of his disciple was an unforgivable humiliation.
Reiji knew his master well enough to anticipate this.
Before the old man could brace himself on his elbows, Reiji stepped forward and gently, but firmly, pressed him back onto the bed.
"Bah!" Dairoku snapped in irritation.
Ordinarily, he stood leagues above Reiji in strength. But now, his body had betrayed him. It was sluggish and uncooperative.
Reiji forced a small, worried smile.
"Take it easy, old man. You need rest."
Dairoku didn't argue at all. It took him only a moment to assess his physical condition.
He exhaled sharply and partly covered his eyes with one hand.
"So then…" he muttered. "What's wrong with me?"
Reiji's dark circles appeared even deeper under the dim lighting.
"It's a classic case of hypertension," he explained quietly. "Several blood vessels ruptured. Your brain was under serious stress from internal bleeding."
Reiji's gaze lowered.
"I repaired the vessels with reverse cursed technique. But the root cause… that's something only you can address."
Dairoku let out a rough laugh… he was pained, almost hysterical. His laugh was dulled only by his weakness.
"You don't say," he scoffed. "Seems I've truly gone senile."
He clicked his tongue and turned onto his right side, facing away from Reiji.
Reiji reacted instinctively.
"Old man… you shouldn't turn that way. Lying on your left side is better since it improves blood circulation and—"
"Enough," Dairoku hissed sharply, cutting him off.
Reiji clasped his hands together, anxiety tightening his chest. His master's collapse had shaken him deeply. The thought that this could have led to a stroke or worse, refused to leave his mind. Suppressed fears were dragged back to the surface.
After a moment, he spoke again, more quietly.
"…What happened, Master?"
Dairoku sighed.
Silence stretched between them, thick and uneasy.
"Tch," the old man muttered at last. "This is irritating."
Reiji braced himself, whatever had unsettled his master to such a degree, could only be something grave.
"One of the clan leader's sons," Dairoku continued flatly, "born of a concubine… has awakened the hereditary technique."
Reiji frowned in confusion.
'I don't understand how that's bad news'
"He has been named after that bastard," Dairoku went on, his tone hardening. "Noritoshi Kamo. And the council of elders have declared him the next heir."
The words struck Reiji like a physical blow.
So that was it.
He had been supplanted.
One of the few factors delaying his execution; his status as heir… had been stripped away. With a new successor in place, he was no longer necessary.
He was replaceable.
Worse still, the clan now had an heir who was unburdened by an ancient, dangerous relic. Compared to that, Reiji was not merely expendable, he was a liability.
Though he had never desired authority within the clan, one of his lifelines had just vanished.
'This was inevitable', he told himself.
Silence followed, fragile and tense.
Reiji finally spoke, voice subdued.
"…And what of it, old man?"
Dairoku clicked his tongue again.
"The clan has split into factions. Some want you eliminated immediately, to prevent potential disaster. Others want you preserved; only as a tool against the current leadership."
He continued coldly.
"They intend to use you to destabilize the regime… and get rid of you once that's done."
It made complete sense.
Reiji had wielded Blood Manipulation with rare precision, elevating the technique beyond anything seen in the current generation. To some, he was a threat. To others, he was a weapon; his resentment towards the clan was something to be exploited after all.
Then another realization hit him.
If the clan truly wanted him dead… why hadn't they acted already?
Reiji forced a thin smile.
"…Did they give you the order, old man?"
Silence answered him.
Heavy. Suffocating.
"No," Dairoku said at last. "Not yet, at least."
He exhaled slowly.
"The clan is headed toward a power struggle."
He cleared his throat.
"And the elders haven't agreed on your fate."
Reiji cursed inwardly. He knew what was coming.
"Be wary of assassins," Dairoku added gruffly. "And curse users."
Reiji nodded, even though his master couldn't see it. A sense of understanding passed between them without words.
He steadied himself, then shifted topics, forcing calmness into his voice.
"Old man… how's Haru?" he asked. "The kid from the orphanage?"
Dairoku answered immediately.
"Hmm? He's improving, from what I've heard. He still can't speak in full sentences though."
Relief washed over Reiji.
He nodded once.
"I need help with something else."
Dairoku remained silent.
"I want to track down the ancient sorcerer who was involved at St. Luke's Hospital."
The old man paused.
"You idiot," Dairoku snapped. "What part of my explanation did you not understand? You're in no position to mobilize clan resources."
"I know," Reiji replied without hesitation. "That's why I'm asking you."
A brief pause.
"…As a favor."
Dairoku grunted.
"Fine. Now get out."
"Thank you, old man," Reiji said, standing and heading for the door. Lingering at the main family estate, especially with Dairoku's current condition, would only inflame tensions.
He adjusted his traditional attire as he reached the exit.
Just as his hand touched the knob his masters voice rang out.
"Stay with your allies," Dairoku said sharply. "Trust no one else."
Reiji paused.
His expression hardened into something close to suppressed rage.
"…Take care, old man."
***********************************************
A young Noritoshi Kamo hurried through the corridors of the Kamo clan estate.
His footsteps echoed sharply against the polished wooden floors as his pace quickened. His breathing grew uneven, breaking into heavy, desperate gasps that he struggled to suppress. The walls seemed to close in around him as he moved, each step carrying the weight of something he did not yet have the words to name.
His mother had been forced to leave the clan.
She had been nothing more than a concubine; useful only until her son awakened the hereditary technique. The moment Noritoshi's blood had proven valuable, she had been deemed irrelevant. Discarded… cast aside as though she had never existed at all.
Noritoshi clenched his fists as he ran.
He had sworn to grow strong and become a worthy leader. Strong enough to shield his mother from the cruelty of the clan. Strong enough to stand beside her again one day, no matter what it took.
That resolve burned in his chest as he rushed toward his destination.
There was someone he needed to see.
Someone whose existence loomed over his future like a dark omen.
For years, there had been whispers; quiet murmurs exchanged between servants when they thought no one was listening. Stories about a sorcerer from a branch family. The heir who had existed before him.
The son of the patriarch's cousin.
Some elders spoke of him in reverent tones, praising his control and unnatural talent. Others fell silent whenever his name surfaced, their expressions tightening with unease.
He was the only Blood Manipulation user alive who possessed divine healing energy.
The only sorcerer known to reverse his own blood.
The only one chosen by the progenitor's ancient relic after several millennia.
Within jujutsu society, he stood alone; spoken of as the Kamo clan's sole counterbalance against the rising influence of the Gojo and Zenin clans.
And as if that were not enough, he had been trained by the strongest veteran sorcerer the Kamo clan had ever produced in the recent generations.
Noritoshi swallowed hard.
Servants had whispered something new. Something quite recent.
The monster born from the branch family massacre had returned to the main estate.
That was why Noritoshi ran now.
He had to see him.
Not as an heir.
But as a rival… someone who just might understand his predicament better than anyone else.
Someone who could stand in the same plane as him.
Perhaps this person, burdened by the same cursed bloodline, could see him in a different light. Maybe he would be able to understand what it meant to live for the sake of the clan.
Noritoshi ran until his legs burned and his lungs screamed.
He finally stopped before a particular door on the right side of the hallway. Leaning forward, he braced his hands against his knees, gulping in air as he struggled to steady himself. His heart pounded violently against his ribs.
Then…
The door slid open.
Noritoshi froze.
For a brief moment, everything was still.
Then… a single man stepped out.
He was tall; taller than most members of the Kamo clan. His posture was straight but heavy, as though each step carried invisible burden. His eyes were half-lidded, marred by deep, permanent dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and endless strain. A faint red tinge bled into his gaze, it was subtle yet unmistakable, lending his presence a quiet menace.
Noritoshi's breath caught in his throat.
The man did not look at him.
Not even once.
He walked past with slow, deliberate steps, his presence alone was enough to suffocate the air around them. Each footfall felt final, echoing with subtle power that did not need acknowledgment.
Noritoshi stood rooted to the floor.
This was Reiji Kamo.
Someone who looked as though he had already decided to leave everything behind; the clan, its expectations, its cruelty, its future. His expression held no hesitation, no confusion. Only exhaustion tempered by forced resolve.
This was a man who had endured.
In the dim lamplight of the corridor, Reiji's hair caught the glow, shimmering faintly with a blood-red sheen. Noritoshi noticed it instinctively… as if it were a warning.
The young boy shivered.
Without understanding why, Noritoshi knew.
This was not merely a rival.
This was someone who had already survived trials far beyond his years; someone who had been shaped, shattered, and reforged by the very system that was now beginning to close its jaws around Noritoshi himself.
And one day, If he wished to survive…
He would have to endure the same.