Naobito returned to the Zenin estate with the same easy gait he always wore.
But the moment he entered the main hall and the clan elders saw his expression, they already knew enough.
It had not gone well.
Or perhaps—
it had gone exactly as expected.
The room was assembled quickly. Not the full clan, not this time. Only those whose words still carried weight in matters of threat and bloodline.
Naobito sat at the head.
A cup of sake rested in one hand.
He did not drink from it.
"He refused," Naobito said.
There was no surprise in the room.
Only irritation.
One of the elders clicked his tongue. Another muttered something under his breath about wasted opportunity. Someone further back simply asked:
"So then what is there left to discuss?"
Naobito's eyes shifted lazily across the room.
"Nothing, really."
That settled it.
Because for all the debate they had entertained before, all the talk of recruitment, prestige, and utility—
once Oden refused them, the outcome had always been the same.
Kill him.
The word itself did not need to be spoken loudly.
It simply settled over the room like an old instinct.
One of the clan members nodded once.
"If he cannot be made useful to the Zenin, then he cannot be allowed to remain free."
Another added, "A curse user with that sort of technique becoming independent is unacceptable."
A third muttered, "He had his chance."
Naobito finally took a sip from his cup.
Then set it down.
"Fine," he said. "We move to extermination."
No one objected.
Because in that room, no one had the habit of valuing outsiders over convenience.
---
Later that same day, another meeting was called.
This one far smaller.
It was not for the old men who talked.
It was for the men expected to act.
Naobito stood before three figures.
Naoya Zenin.
Jinichi Zenin.
Ranta Zenin.
The Hei.
All of them members of the fighting force. All of them strong. All of them dangerous in their own way.
Naobito explained what he had learned.
The blindfold.
The shikigami.
The cursed energy reserves.
The refusal.
He gave them enough to understand the level of threat without wasting time describing every detail.
When he finished, Jinichi was the first to speak.
His arms were folded, expression hard.
"Then we kill him together," he said. "No reason to complicate it. If the brat's as dangerous as you say, then overwhelming force is the cleanest answer."
It was practical.
And completely reasonable.
Which was why Naoya hated it instantly.
He scoffed.
"I'm not doing a mission with you two."
Jinichi turned his head slightly.
Naoya's expression was as disdainful as ever, his arrogance almost elegant in how effortless it looked on him.
"You want to jump some random outsider as a group?" he said. "Pathetic."
Jinichi's brow furrowed.
Naoya kept going.
"If he's really just some curse-user trash with a borrowed-looking technique, then I'm more than enough to deal with him."
Ranta glanced between them but said nothing.
Naobito watched the exchange with half-lidded interest.
Jinichi's tone dropped.
"Naoya. This is not about your ego."
Naoya smiled.
"No. It's about competence."
Jinichi took one step forward.
Naoya didn't bother moving.
The tension between them sharpened instantly.
Then Naobito spoke.
"That's enough."
The room obeyed.
Even Naoya, though only barely.
Naobito looked at his son.
"You want him?"
Naoya smirked.
"I'll kill him."
Naobito studied him for a second.
Then nodded.
"Fine."
Jinichi frowned.
"You're seriously allowing this?"
Naobito's expression didn't change.
"If Naoya wants the first attempt, let him have it."
Naoya's grin widened.
And because he was Naoya—
he took that not as permission, but as confirmation of something he already believed.
That this would be easy.
That this would be quick.
That he would walk out of it more right than everyone else.
Naobito looked at him once more.
"Do not underestimate him."
Naoya turned away with a scoff.
"I won't need to."
And just like that—
the first blade of the Zenin clan was set loose.
---
The next day, Tokyo was bright.
Too bright, maybe.
The kind of afternoon where the city looked alive in a way that almost made it easy to forget how many ugly things moved underneath it.
Oden walked through the streets with his usual quiet pace, hood up, blindfold secure, hands in his pockets.
He had eaten recently.
That helped.
Tokyo was still irritating, but slightly less so on a full stomach.
The crowd moved around him in its usual currents.
Noise.
Shoes.
Voices.
Cars.
Heat signatures.
Motion.
And then—
something stood out.
Oden's pace did not visibly change.
But inwardly, his focus sharpened.
He was being followed.
Not casually.
Not by coincidence.
His Serpent Eyes, even beneath the blindfold, fed him too much information for something like that to slip by. Tiny patterns in movement. A consistent heat source keeping distance. Intent that did not belong to an ordinary passerby.
Hostile.
Interested.
Confident.
Oden kept walking.
He did not look back.
Did not break stride.
Instead, he gradually shifted course, leaving the more crowded streets behind. The buildings thinned. The foot traffic lessened. The city became quieter in increments.
An alley.
Then a side road.
Then an open stretch of concrete bordered by older walls and disused structures.
Oden stopped.
Turned his head slightly.
And waited.
For one second—
nothing happened.
Then the world exploded sideways.
A violent impact slammed into him from the flank, too fast for most people to see, too fast even for many sorcerers to react to properly. Oden got his arms halfway up before the hit connected and sent him skidding backward across the pavement.
His shoes tore against concrete.
His body jolted.
He caught himself after several meters, one foot digging in hard.
And then he looked up.
A young man stood where the attack had come from, smiling like he had just stepped out onto a stage built specifically to admire him.
Naoya Zenin.
His posture was lazy.
His expression was not.
"Well," Naoya said, voice smooth with contempt, "you're sturdier than I expected."
Oden straightened slowly.
"…You hit fast."
Naoya's smile sharpened.
"Of course I do."
He placed one hand in his pocket.
Then introduced himself with the casual arrogance of someone who had never once been told to earn the space he occupied.
"Naoya Zenin," he said. "And I'm here to kill you."
The street went still.
And Oden, at last, understood exactly what kind of day this was going to be.
---
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