Ignoring the old man nearby, Mirai bent down and picked up the severed head rolling across the ground.
This was his dear father, after all. How could he be left to rest in the rubble?
"BOOM!"
An explosive crack tore through the air as something descended from above.
Zenin Naobito, who had been watching intently, did not hesitate for even 0.01 seconds. As he activated Projection Sorcery, his body shot backward, retreating a full hundred meters in an instant.
Another thunderous impact. The ground jolted again.
Ogi's remaining body — what little was left of it — was smashed into a mist of blood by the monstrous curse's palm.
Naobito, who had assumed the attack was aimed at him and hadn't even spared a glance for his brother's corpse, now looked somewhat awkward.
Watching the blood explode into the night sky, a faint satisfaction appeared on Mirai's face.
Now Father wouldn't have to lie in this ruined place.
"Old man, notify the Zenin Clan's higher-ups. A clan meeting will be held tomorrow morning. I have something to announce."
Holding Ogi's head in one hand, Mirai tilted his head toward Naobito as he spoke.
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped across the fractured earth and began walking back toward his own small residence.
The consecutive earth-shattering explosions — the boy's "special wake-up service" — had long since roused the entire estate.
Powerless servants, the wives and children of clan sorcerers — all had fled their cramped quarters for open ground when the earth began to tremble.
The Zenin Clan's two special armed divisions had already formed a perimeter around the battlefield.
Had their captains not received a subtle signal from Naobito, they would have charged in at once.
The elite sorcerer group known as "Hei."
Every member at least semi–Grade 1 in strength — though their numbers were few.
And beneath them, the subordinate unit:
The Kukuru Unit.
A combat corps composed of clan men who failed to awaken techniques due to low cursed energy.
Even without techniques, the Kukuru Unit was formidable.
Day and night, they tempered their bodies, mastering a wide range of cursed tools.
The crisscrossing scars across Mirai's chest were proof of his training with the Kukuru Unit since the age of five.
"Move."
Mirai's voice was cold as he faced the two units blocking his path.
The captain of Hei glanced at Naobito approaching from behind Mirai, then decisively ordered his squad to withdraw.
Zenin Nobuaki, captain of the Kukuru Unit, had also received the clan head's signal — but his retreat lagged by two seconds.
After all, the direct commander of the Kukuru Unit — Zenin Ogi — was currently dangling by the head in Mirai's hand.
"AAAAH!!"
A sudden scream rang out.
The withdrawing troops froze, cold sweat sliding down their foreheads.
Zenin Nobuaki, who had blocked Mirai's path, had half his body — one arm and one leg — swallowed by space itself.
Blood splattered across the ground. Intestines and fragments of unidentifiable organs writhed faintly upon the earth.
With only half a body remaining, Nobuaki collapsed, twitching. His screams grew weaker by the second.
With a single focused glance from the boy, a captain-level figure had been eliminated instantly.
Without Reverse Cursed Technique, those fading cries could only serve as his final words.
Mirai did not spare him another look.
He stepped through the pooling blood and disappeared into the darkness.
Rounding the corridor toward his residence, Mirai slowed slightly.
On the open ground opposite his door stood a woman, bowing deeply.
Beside her were two small girls, terror written across their faces.
All three wore disheveled nightclothes; their hair hung loose and messy.
Mirai looked at the twin girls and tugged the corner of his mouth into a faint smile — then entered his room, still carrying their father's head.
Blood ties meant nothing to him.
But aside from his mother, these twins were the only people who had ever shown him kindness — and smiles.
"D-demon…"
Seeing the blood-streaked smile on the boy's face, Zenin Mai trembled and whispered. Losing her grip on her mother's sleeve, she fell to the ground in fear.
Her older sister, Maki, did not fall — but her teeth chattered violently.
For girls barely four or five years old, they were already remarkably brave.
"Mai, be quiet!"
The woman straightened only after Mirai entered his room. Pulling her daughter up, she scolded sternly:
"What do you mean 'demon'? That's your brother!"
"In the future, when you see Brother Mirai, you must show the same respect as you would to the clan head!"
"Do you understand?!"
Calling him "brother" was not incorrect.
Zenin Mirai was the twins' half-brother.
The woman reprimanding them was the wife Ogi had taken when Mirai was five.
That same year — the year Mirai's mother was cast into the abyss.
After five years in the clan, the woman had long learned how to survive within this rotten great family.
She had seen enough of the distant battle to understand clearly:
Mirai's patricide would not bring him rejection.
On the contrary, it would likely propel him skyward.
"How laughable. You really did commit quite a few sins, didn't you?"
Back in his room, Mirai lifted Ogi's head and spoke lightly.
He had heard the woman's scolding clearly.
The irony was thick.
All three had watched him approach with the severed head.
Their reactions differed — but not one contained hatred.
Not a shred of resentment toward the killer of husband.
Or father.
Through the perception of his Mangekyō eyes, Mirai had noticed it clearly:
The woman's outward posture was respectful and cautious.
But when she glanced at the head in his hand, a flicker of hatred — and relief — had flashed deep within her eyes.
Not only this filial son.
Not only the wife of five years.
Not even Ogi's own twin daughters.
Despite their closest of bonds, not one truly mourned the beast's death.
And it wasn't strange.
The twins were only four or five.
Yet they performed servant labor daily.
Endured insults.
Suffered beatings without reason.
This had begun when they were four — even earlier than Mirai's own torment.
Because they were female.
And because twins were considered ill-omened in jujutsu society.
Ogi had abandoned mother and daughters even earlier than he abandoned Mirai and his mother.
Yet even so, he called the twins "useless" every single day.
Mirai stopped thinking about it.
He walked to one side of the room and placed Ogi's head before a memorial tablet.
Only then did the coldness fade from his face.
When he looked at the tablet, his eyes were filled with gentleness.
In memory of Yuzuki — Mother of Mirai.
No family name was carved there.
Only her given name.
Because she did not like the Zenin surname.
She never said it aloud.
But Mirai understood.
He reached out to touch the tablet — then paused, noticing the blood on his hand, and withdrew it.
"Divine Dog."
At his whisper, the shikigami burst from the shadows, swallowed Ogi's head whole in a single bite, and silently returned to darkness.
That way—
Father and mother could both rest properly.
The blood mist in the sky: "..."
The head in the dog's stomach: "..."
After cleaning the blood from his body, Mirai stood in the bath, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
Under the infusion of cursed energy, his black pupils once again turned crimson.
Born from endless cursed energy.
Awakened through intense emotional trauma.
The Mangekyō Sharingan.