The barrier fully closed, leaving a stifling pressure to weigh down on the assembly hall.
"...."
Only then did Naobito, seated at the head of the room, move slowly. He set the gourd he was holding onto the floor with a soft thud and adjusted his slumped posture, breaking the silence.
"So, what is it you want?"
His voice was calm, but the weight of the Cursed Energy within it was anything but light. Backed by the overwhelming presence emanating from the Dharma Wheel behind me, I tilted my chin up with an easy air.
"Haha, now we're finally getting somewhere. A conversation between two civilized people."
I flicked my finger toward the man in the suit cowering in the corner—Furudate the lawyer.
"Hey, you in the tie. If your ears and hands still work, write down every single word I say from now on. Not a single syllable out of place. This needs to be legally binding."
Though Furudate's face was pale with terror, some combination of professional ethics and survival instinct kicked in; he pulled out a fountain pen and a notebook, his hands trembling as he prepared to take notes. I stared straight at Naobito and spoke clearly.
"First. As of today, I, Kuroda Hachiro, am to be recognized as a direct descendant of the Zenin Clan. Furthermore, my father, the late Kuroda Kazuya, who died without a name, is also to be officially recognized as a true member of the Zenin bloodline."
The lawyer's pen raced across the paper frantically.
"Second. I am to be guaranteed the treatment and rights equivalent to the first-in-line successor to the position of Clan Head."
"Wha—What?!"
As soon as the word 'successor' dropped, Ougi's eyes flared. In those eyes, steeped in a foul obsession with the Clan Head position and a deep-seated inferiority complex, a thick sludge of jealousy and murderous intent swirled. He looked ready to draw his katana at any second, but given the current atmosphere, he seemed to be forcing himself to stand down for the moment.
I sneered at the vein popping in Ougi's neck and continued.
"However, there is one condition. If the current head, Naobito Zenin, dies or becomes incapacitated, my right to succession is immediately revoked."
"...Hoh."
A faint, intrigued breath escaped Naobito's lips. Ignoring him, I threw out my final demand.
"Third. Open the Zenin treasury and grant me permanent ownership of one Cursed Tool of Grade 1 or higher. That is all."
Scritch, scritch.
Within the silent domain, the only sound was the spine-chilling scratching of the lawyer's pen against paper.
Having heard all the conditions, Naobito stroked his mustache and stared at me. His face didn't register anger or humiliation; instead, a strange flash of disappointment flickered across his features.
"...Is that it?"
"What, you have a problem with it?"
"Tsk. And here I thought you were going to take my head and seize the seat for yourself right then and there. Good grief. This old man was hoping to spend the rest of his days just drowning himself in booze, and now I've gone and gained a troublesome little tagalong."
Naobito clicked his tongue, making his annoyance blatantly obvious.
However.
Sss—
His atmosphere shifted in an instant. The eyes of a blurred, drunken old man were nowhere to be seen; in their place, the cold, sharp glint of a veteran sorcerer flashed.
"Lawyer. Bring those papers over here."
At Naobito's command, Furudate scurried over and presented the torn pages from his notebook. Naobito skimmed them, then looked up at me.
"Hey, brat. Kick all the other trash out of this barrier, except for me."
A belligerent grin spread across his face.
"The adults need to have a private talk."
Perhaps it was the weight of the Clan Head's serious voice—something they probably heard once a year at most—but Ougi, the three elders, and Furudate all failed to offer a single rebuttal. Breaking out in cold sweats, they shuffled out of my barrier.
My domain was currently set to strictly block any interference from the outside while leaving the path from the inside to the outside open. Once they were gone, only Naobito and I remained within the hollow, black-and-white space.
Thud—
Naobito reached into his robes and tossed an unopened gourd toward me. By reflex, I snatched it by the neck.
"Can you handle your liquor?"
I gave a short laugh and tossed the gourd back to him.
"I'll pass. I'm a minor."
"Is that so? You carry yourself with the face and expression of a fossilized old man."
Naobito chuckled and uncorked the gourd, pouring the potent spirit down his throat. Wiping the spilled liquor from his chin with his sleeve, he spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
"Well, I've heard your demands. They're within an acceptable range. For the sake of protocol, I'll have to gather the old fossils for a clan meeting... but even if they reject it, I'll just crush them using my authority as Clan Head. It's fine."
He added with a disinterested shrug, as if he were talking about someone else's business.
"Additionally, since your permanent quarters aren't ready, you'll stay in the guest wing used for VIPs. If you need anything, just order around whatever servants happen to be in your line of sight."
"...."
I narrowed my eyes.
I had the upper hand, but I hadn't expected him to agree so readily.
"I'm surprised. In a clan as rigid as this, I didn't think you'd accept me so quickly without even verifying my bloodline."
It was a reasonable doubt in my mind. But Naobito sighed, looking at me as if I were a hopeless fool.
"Hmph. With that overwhelming power you just showed? Whether you went to the Gojo or the Kamo, they'd welcome you with the highest level of treatment. What kind of idiot would let a talent like you slip away to another Great Family?"
....I see. The veteran head at the apex of the Jujutsu world didn't care about clan pride or bloodlines; he made a cold, tactical assessment.
"In that case, I have nothing more to say."
I turned my back without hesitation. The negotiation was over. I wanted to drop this suffocating barrier and get some rest. Just as I was about to snap my fingers to dismantle the domain...
"But tell me, kid," Naobito's sharp voice caught me by the scruff of my neck.
"This domain of yours..... I don't feel a 'Sure-Hit' effect at all. It feels somewhat unfinished."
A cold chill crept up my spine.
"Can you actually handle the pinnacle of jujutsu, the Domain Expansion, in its complete form?"
It was a piercing question that cut straight to the heart of the matter.
But I hid my freezing expression and gave a casual shrug.
"Who knows?"
I kept my answer vague and snapped my fingers.
CRACK—!
The black-and-white space shattered like a glass window, and the original view of the assembly hall rushed back into sight. I gave a light wave to Naobito, who sat in his seat staring at me, then walked out of the hall without looking back.
As I walked down the corridor toward the guest wing, I muttered in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.
"...Snaky old man. He realized it. Tsk."
The VIP room Naobito mentioned was on a completely different level than the dusty tatami room I had been huddled in until this morning. It was spacious enough to play hide-and-seek in, filled with high-end furniture, and the floor smelled of faint orchids.
I collapsed onto a plush floor cushion. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a cigarette and put it in my mouth.
Tssss—
I lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a long cloud of smoke. Only when the acrid nicotine hit my lungs did the tension that had been pulled taut finally begin to loosen.
'...Thinking back, I didn't actually intend to behave quite so aggressively at the Zenin main house today.'
My original plan had been to gather information discreetly and offer a deal at a reasonable level. But the moment I saw the faces of Ougi and the elders, an uncontrollable surge of rage and murderous intent had boiled up from deep within my gut.
That wasn't exactly my own will; it was the fundamental hatred for the clan that abandoned his father, etched into the very cells of this boy's body, Kuroda Hachiro.
"...There was a theory Mahito, that Cursed Spirit, used to spout in the original story."
I let out a quiet scoff, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.
Mahito's 'Soul Primacy' theory—the idea that the soul exists first and the body is formed to match its shape.
Living in this 14-year-old body and finding myself unconsciously synchronizing with its instincts and emotions was perfect proof of the contrary. The memories and feelings left in the flesh were interfering with my soul.
I gave a bitter smile and whispered to the villain who had already died in the original timeline.
"You were wrong, Mahito."