The Zenin clan gathered the way powerful families always did—
not with warmth, but with purpose.
The room was broad, polished, and still. Tatami stretched beneath seated figures arranged in a hierarchy so old that nobody needed to explain it. The air carried incense, tea, and the faint pressure of restrained hostility that seemed to live permanently within the walls of the estate.
At the head sat Naobito Zenin.
Relaxed.
Almost.
A cup of sake rested near his hand, though his eyes were clearer now than they had been earlier. This discussion had his attention.
And that, more than anything, put the others on edge.
Around him sat the important members of the Zenin clan. Elders, branch heads, enforcers, those with enough blood status or useful brutality to matter.
Naobito tapped one finger once against the lacquered tray before him.
Then he spoke.
"I've received interesting information."
That alone quieted the room further.
A few eyes narrowed. A few sharpened. None interrupted.
Naobito continued.
"There is a young sorcerer in Tokyo. Unaffiliated, by all appearances."
He paused.
"He uses a shikigami technique."
A murmur went through the room immediately.
Naobito let it happen.
Then dropped the next detail.
"It resembles the Ten Shadows."
This time the reaction was stronger.
The temperature in the room seemed to shift all at once.
One of the older men frowned deeply. "Resembles?"
Naobito nodded.
"Not identical. But close enough in spirit and function to warrant attention."
He described what Hakari had told him. Multiple shikigami. Different combat roles. Flexible usage. Tactical variety. A wielder with high cursed energy and enough competence to make the whole thing dangerous.
By the time he finished, the room had moved from curiosity to calculation.
One voice cut through first. Hard, immediate, cold.
"Then he should be killed."
Several heads turned.
The speaker's expression remained unchanged.
"If a curse user possesses a technique similar to the Ten Shadows," he said, "then he is a threat to the Zenin clan. A direct one. We cannot allow a stray outsider to exist with that kind of potential."
Another member nodded grimly.
"He's right. Techniques tied too closely to the prestige of a great clan become symbolic threats whether we like it or not."
"He undermines the uniqueness of the Ten Shadows."
"He could be used by other factions against us."
"A curse user with that ability is unacceptable."
The killing faction gathered momentum quickly.
To them, the logic was simple.
If something could not be owned, it should not be allowed to remain free.
But not everyone agreed.
A man seated further down the line spoke next, calmer but no less deliberate.
"That would be shortsighted."
Several eyes shifted toward him.
He continued.
"Satoru Gojo already secured Megumi Fushiguro. Barring extraordinary events, the chances of the Zenin clan reclaiming the Ten Shadows are effectively nonexistent."
That landed.
Because it was true.
Everyone in that room knew it.
Megumi existed.
Megumi had the Ten Shadows.
And Satoru Gojo had him.
That was not a problem one solved cleanly.
"So," he went on, "if this outsider's technique truly stands on comparable footing, then killing him outright may be wasteful."
Another man nodded slowly.
"Recruit him."
The room turned again.
He folded his hands into his sleeves.
"If he can be brought into the family, then his value outweighs the risk. A replacement for what the clan failed to keep."
That phrasing irritated a few people.
But not enough to make it false.
Someone else added, "If the technique is truly that adaptable, then bringing him under the Zenin name would strengthen the clan immediately."
"And deny that strength to others."
"Especially to Jujutsu High."
"Or the Gojo faction."
A bitter silence lingered after that.
Naobito listened to both sides without interruption.
One camp wanted Oden erased.
The other wanted him acquired.
Neither side cared about the boy himself.
Only what he represented.
Power.
Leverage.
Symbolism.
Risk.
Eventually, the room's arguments circled inward toward the only compromise these people were ever likely to agree upon.
Recruitment first.
Execution second.
Naobito lifted his cup.
The room quieted at once.
"We will approach him," he said.
No one spoke over him.
"If he can be brought into the family, then we will do so."
His expression remained easy.
His tone did not.
"If he refuses—"
He took a sip.
"Then we kill him."
That settled it.
No one objected.
Because in the Zenin clan, mercy had never been a serious political option.
Oden, meanwhile, knew nothing about any of this.
He was busy trying to understand a movie theater.
Which, in fairness, was proving more difficult than expected.
He stood just outside the entrance for several seconds, blindfold on, hood lowered, staring at the general arrangement of lights, posters, ticket counters, and milling civilians through the senses of the snake resting around his neck.
It was all… more structured than he liked.
There were lines.
Machines.
Options.
Brightly lit signs that assumed prior knowledge.
Oden did not have prior knowledge.
He had never been to a movie theater before.
And that was becoming increasingly obvious to him.
"…This is annoying," he muttered.
He was about to give up and just walk in whatever direction looked least embarrassing when he noticed three students nearby.
A pink-haired boy.
A girl standing near him.
Another boy beside her.
They looked like they belonged here, which automatically made them useful.
So Oden walked over.
The pink-haired boy noticed him first.
Before the boy could say anything, Oden asked:
"How does this place work?"
The three blinked.
Then the pink-haired boy brightened almost instantly.
"Oh," he said. "You mean the theater?"
"Yes."
The boy grinned.
"I can explain that."
He tapped a thumb against his chest.
"I'm Itadori Yuji."
The girl smiled politely.
"Setsuko Sasaki."
The boy next to her gave a small nod.
"Takeshi Iguchi."
Oden inclined his head slightly.
"I'm Oden."
Yuji froze.
Then his eyes widened.
"…Oden?"
He looked at Sasaki.
Then at Iguchi.
Then back at Oden.
"That's literally boiled dish!"
And then he laughed.
Purely.
The kind of laugh that came from a person who had not yet learned to fear his own amusement.
Sasaki immediately looked worried.
"I-Itadori," she whispered, "don't laugh—"
Iguchi looked uncomfortable too. "You might have offended him."
Yuji straightened quickly.
"Sorry! I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," Oden said.
The three paused.
Oden shrugged faintly.
"Miguel has laughed at it too many times already. It doesn't really do anything anymore."
There was a beat.
Then Yuji laughed again. Softer this time, more because the image of someone repeatedly bullying Oden over his own name was apparently very easy to imagine.
"Okay," Yuji said. "Fair enough."
And then, with surprising patience, the three of them explained how a movie theater worked.
Buy a ticket first.
Choose a film.
Find the right screening room.
Wait for the time.
Snacks if you want them.
Don't walk into the wrong theater unless you enjoy social embarrassment.
Oden listened carefully.
He asked practical questions.
Where do the seats get assigned?
What if one arrives too early?
Why is popcorn so expensive?
Yuji answered what he could.
Sasaki clarified details when Yuji got a little too casual.
Iguchi mostly nodded and occasionally added quiet corrections.
By the end of it, Oden understood enough to function.
Which was all he had wanted.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problem," Yuji replied.
Then Oden looked up at the movie listings.
There were too many.
Too many names.
Too many genres he had no framework for.
He stood there for a moment, thinking.
"…Which one is good?"
Yuji followed his gaze.
Then his face lit up.
"Oh!"
He pointed.
"Let's watch Human Earthworm together."
Sasaki and Iguchi exchanged a look.
Oden tilted his head.
"Human Earthworm?"
Yuji grinned.
"Yeah."
That grin should probably have been a warning.
Unfortunately for Oden—
he had not known Yuji long enough yet to interpret it properly.
---
Find early chapters and daily updates on my patreon
[Patreon.com/tenten100?]
Follow me on Instagram [www.instagram.com/tenten100_?]