(POV Mei Mei)
Alright. Sooner or later, Kenji would realize that cooperating with me was a profitable decision. And when that understanding finally took root, my position would rise far beyond that of merely "a source of information."
A month later, I returned to the same forest.
The air was as damp as before, thick with the scent of wet earth and rotting leaves. Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the canopy, forming thin beams that cut across the shadows below. The forest floor was a patchwork of light and darkness, shifting gently whenever the wind stirred the branches above.
And there, at the exact spot where we had first met, Kenji stood waiting.
Still alive.
Not only that—he wasn't alone.
Two girls stood a short distance behind him. One had long blonde hair and an openly curious gaze. Shizuka. The other, with black hair and sharper eyes, carried a more cautious expression, though there was clear focus in the way she observed everything around her. Rika.
Even from several meters away, I could sense the uneven flow of Cursed Energy around them. It was rough, unstable, almost flickering like a weak flame struggling against the wind.
Interesting.
Somehow, they had come into contact with the world of Jujutsu. Their control over Cursed Energy was still messy and unrefined. The energy leaked in small bursts, rising and falling without discipline. But the potential was unmistakable.
I decided to test the three of them.
We moved deeper into the forest, away from any visible trails. The terrain there was uneven, tangled with exposed roots and loose soil. It was the kind of ground that punished poor balance and rewarded instinct.
I started with Kenji.
From our first exchange of blows, something stirred in me.
Kenji wasn't just talented.
He was a natural in combat.
He didn't simply copy my movements. Each strike I threw was quietly analyzed. When a sweep knocked him down once, the next time he adjusted his footing before my leg even completed the arc. His center of gravity shifted subtly, efficiently.
When I increased the tempo, he followed. His breathing remained steady despite the strain building in his muscles. Sweat rolled down his temple, but his gaze never broke focus.
His reflexes were improving in real time.
Of course, I still won.
Years of experience, sharpened instincts from real missions, and countless hours of battle gave me a clear advantage. My timing was tighter. My movements more precise.
But for the first time in a while, I had to pay attention. Even a brief lapse in focus, and one of his punches might have landed cleanly.
And this was without an Innate Technique.
Without using Cursed Energy.
In pure hand-to-hand combat, given enough time and experience… Kenji might one day match me. Perhaps even surpass me.
Afterward, I called Shizuka and Rika forward together.
They weren't as quick as Kenji in understanding technique. Their movements were still stiff in places, and their timing occasionally lagged by a fraction. There were moments when hesitation showed in their shoulders and footwork.
But they had something different—natural coordination.
When Shizuka attacked head-on with a straight punch, Rika was already shifting to the side, subtly limiting my movement. When one faltered, the other filled the gap without needing a signal. Their teamwork wasn't perfect, but it was instinctive, as if they shared the same rhythm.
At first, their combined pressure was troublesome enough that I had to raise the intensity.
I quickened my steps, closed the distance, forced them into faster exchanges. I pressured them, testing how quickly they could adapt under stress.
In the end, I still won.
Their breathing grew heavy, their clothes smeared with dirt and crushed leaves. Strands of hair clung to their faces, damp with sweat.
But none of them asked to stop.
They weren't bad. With consistent training, both could become reliable Sorcerers. Perhaps not extraordinary like Kenji, but strong enough to survive.
A faint smile formed on my lips.
My investment had been the right choice.
Now it wasn't only Kenji who was connected to me, but Shizuka and Rika as well. Three promising assets in one place. Strategically, that was far more advantageous than I had anticipated a month ago.
After a short rest, I prepared to leave. The light filtering through the trees had shifted, signaling the slow approach of evening.
Before I could go far, Kenji called out to me.
He said he wanted to ask me to sell a Cursed Tool for him.
I stopped.
Kenji had a Cursed Tool?
My first thought was simple: perhaps Kenji had taken it from a Curse User he had defeated. That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. However, as Kenji began to describe the tool's function in greater detail, I felt my expression slowly shift.
It was not a weapon.
Not a sword, not a spear, not even a dagger enhanced with additional effects. Its purpose was precise and specialized, not intended for direct combat. A non-weapon Cursed Tool—an uncommon category that rarely surfaced in the market.
Its value was not something that could be easily measured.
Its true worth depended entirely on the creativity and intelligence of its wielder. In the right hands, an item like that could change the flow of a battle without a single strike being exchanged.
And from the way Kenji explained it—calm, methodical, free from exaggeration—it was obvious that he understood the potential of the tool, even if he might not yet grasp its full extent.
That was when a realization settled in my mind.
Kenji was not only talented in combat.
He understood value.
And perhaps… his value was far greater than I had first estimated.
After spending some time conversing casually beneath the thick canopy of trees in the forest that served as Kenji's training ground, the mood between us gradually shifted.
Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the leaves, casting thin golden beams across the uneven ground covered in roots and brittle, fallen leaves. The scent of damp soil and tree sap lingered in the air, faintly mixed with the residual trace of Cursed Energy left behind from a training session that had ended not long ago.
The light laughter and relaxed tone that had flowed so naturally between us began to fade. In their place came shorter pauses, heavier with intent. Even the air felt denser, as if the forest itself sensed the shift in direction.
I noticed it first. The world of Jujutsu was never separate from business, and I had long ago learned not to mix opportunity with sentiment, no matter how intriguing the person before me might be.
Without wasting words, Kenji revealed his intention.
He wanted to supply Cursed Tools to me.
I fell silent for a brief moment, narrowing my eyes slightly as I studied him more closely. The wind brushed through the trees, stirring my hair and tugging lightly at the sleeves of my clothing.
This boy truly did not stop surprising me. He was young, yet he spoke with the steady composure of someone who had already spent years navigating the darker layers of this world.
He did not possess just one Cursed Tool, nor was he looking for a one-time sale. What he proposed was something far more deliberate—a long-term, stable partnership rather than a fleeting transaction.
His plan was straightforward, but undeniably bold.
He would provide the Cursed Tools. I would handle the sales, whether through underground networks or official auction houses with ties to the Jujutsu world.
He was fully aware that my connections reached wealthy collectors, opportunistic sorcerers, and even organizations that preferred to operate without leaving records. The profits would be divided—thirty percent for me, seventy percent for him.
Thirty percent.
A faint smile curved across my lips, carefully practiced to conceal the calculations behind it. In truth, that number felt somewhat small for someone of my standing.
If complications arose, I would bear the risk. I would ensure the transaction remained smooth and discreet, avoiding the suspicion of authorities or rival factions. Reputation, connections, and risk management were not trivial commodities.
Naturally, I chose to test him.
I stepped slightly closer and tilted my head, letting a hint of playful offense color my expression. In a soft yet deliberate tone, I presented subtle arguments for why the percentage should be higher.
I mentioned security expenses, the potential for financial loss, and the possibility of conflicts with factions that might target the same merchandise.
Yet Kenji remained composed.
He did not flinch. My tone and sharpened gaze had no effect on him.
With a level-headedness that bordered on irritating, he explained that thirty percent was already more than fair for me. After all, I would not be the one hunting, crafting, or testing the Cursed Tools. He would shoulder the primary risks.
He would hunt. He would create. He would test.
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