For the Zen'in, a member born with zero cursed energy wasn't just a disappointment; it was a stain. Fushiguro Toji had been that stain—shunned, abused, thrown to curses as a child, until he carved his own bloody path out of the clan. Even Zen'in Ogi's twin daughters were viewed with contempt: Maki with her pitiful, near-zero cursed energy (a flawed Heavenly Restriction), and Mai, equally "weak" in the clan's eyes. To Naobito, they had represented a streak of rotten luck in the family line.
Now, Kamo's words reframed everything. This wasn't misfortune; it was fortune. The Ten Shadows and a Heavenly Restriction, appearing in the same generation? It was the clan's destined recipe for supremacy, not a curse.
Naobito's mind raced with strategy—how to mend fences with Toji, how to secure Megumi. The path to taming Mahoraga, and thus claiming the pinnacle of jujutsu, was now visible.
But before he could speak, his brother, Zen'in Ogi, stepped forward and offered a bow even deeper than Naobito's had been.
Kamo watched, inwardly bemused. 'What's with all the bowing today?'
While Naobito had thought of Toji, Ogi had thought of his daughters. The revelation that a Heavenly Restriction was the key to Mahoraga wasn't a path to reconciliation with an outcast for him—it was a ladder for his own despised lineage.
In the jujutsu world, twins were bad omens, their potential supposedly split. For Ogi, fathering the "cursed" twins had been his political death sentence, cementing his brother's supremacy. But now... if Maki, with her near-zero energy, could be the vital partner to a Ten Shadows user, her value—and thus his value—would skyrocket. He could overthrow his brother. He could become clan head.
There was, however, a critical flaw. Maki's restriction was impure. She had a whisper of cursed energy, unlike Toji's absolute zero. It made her stronger than a normal human but kept her blind to curses, forever hobbled. It was an innate, biological dead-end he had resigned himself to.
Until now.
He looked at Kamo Itsuki, the man who had turned blood into architecture and puppets into life. The legendary prodigy who had mastered his clan's technique so completely he'd rewritten its rules. If anyone in the world could surgically alter a cursed energy constitution, could "fix" an imperfect Heavenly Restriction, it was him.
"Kamo-dono," Ogi began, his voice uncharacteristically earnest, his head still lowered. "Your insight has… illuminated a dark corner of our clan. My daughter, Maki… she possesses a form of the Heavenly Restriction, but it is incomplete. It shackles her."
He finally raised his eyes, desperation and cunning warring in his gaze. "You are the master of Blood Manipulation. Your understanding of the body and cursed energy is unparalleled. I have heard of your… flesh puppet research. If there is anyone who can refine a living constitution, who can complete what nature left unfinished… it is you."
He took a shuddering breath, laying his ambition bare. "I do not ask for free aid. Name your price. But if you can perfect my daughter's Heavenly Restriction… you would not just be gaining the gratitude of the Zen'in Clan. You would be creating the key to unlocking Mahoraga. A key that I, and my lineage, would control."
The air in the room grew even heavier. Naobito watched his brother, a storm brewing behind his own eyes. Ogi wasn't just seeking power for the clan; he was launching a coup, using Kamo as his smith.
Kamo Itsuki looked from the bowed head of Ogi to the rigid figure of Naobito, then down at the Prison Realm in his hand. A simple transaction for a cursed object had spiraled into a dynastic power struggle within one of the great families, all hinging on his own expertise.
He had come for a cage. He was being asked to play god.
A faint, analytical smile touched his lips. The situation was becoming profoundly interesting.
Zen'in Ogi's logic was chillingly clear. Kamo Itsuki's infamous research into flesh puppets was an open secret, whispered about but never challenged due to his power and the Kamo clan's shield. Seeing the blood clone—a being of perfect, independent function crafted from a single drop—confirmed Ogi's suspicion: Kamo's mastery over biology and cursed energy had reached a realm beyond conventional jujutsu.
If anyone could "fix" an imperfect Heavenly Restriction, it was him.
Driven by desperation and ambition, Ogi seized the moment. With tears that were likely more strategic than sincere, he laid bare his daughters' plight: the twins, the scorn, Maki's shackling pseudo-restriction.
Kamo listened. He already knew of Maki and Mai. His long-term plans had included them, but as future students at Jujutsu High, where his assistance could be framed as mentorship. Intervening now, in the heart of Zen'in politics, was premature. But Ogi's plea offered an opening. Could he accelerate their growth? Perhaps. But without the crucible of suffering that forged their original resolve, would they still become the warriors they were meant to be? It was a fascinating variable. He suspected they'd choose power over pain regardless.
He couldn't appear too eager, however. Turning a cold, analytical gaze on Ogi, he said, "Your clan has already traded the Prison Realm for one piece of information. Now you ask for a 'Heavenly Restriction' as a bonus? That seems... excessively greedy."
Ogi's face paled, his hope crumbling. He looked desperately to his brother.
Zen'in Naobito, watching the exchange with the calculating eyes of a clan head, saw not just a brother's plea, but a strategic opportunity. A perfected Heavenly Restriction user, loyal to the clan (or more specifically, to the branch he could control through this favor), was an asset beyond price. It wasn't just about helping Ogi; it was about securing the definitive key to Mahoraga on terms favorable to his leadership.
He stepped in, his voice grave and diplomatic. "Kamo-dono, I add my plea to my brother's. Please, consider aiding my nieces. The Zen'in Clan is prepared to negotiate further terms."
The transaction had just expanded. The Prison Realm was in his hand. Now, they were offering additional payment for a service he was already inclined to perform—a service that would place two potentially powerful assets, and their indebted father, in a position of usefulness to him.
Kamo Itsuki let the silence stretch, his expression unreadable. He was no longer just a negotiator; he was becoming an architect of this clan's future, a sculptor of its very bloodline. The power dynamics in the room had subtly inverted. They weren't just paying him for an object or information; they were petitioning him for a miracle.
"Further terms," Kamo repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. "Very well. Let us discuss what the Zen'in Clan is willing to offer… for a refinement of destiny."
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