The Fujiwara found me.
I let them find me, rather.
I would never, no matter how many lives wortb of time pass, forget the place where the Fujiwara Clan took me.
I had more Cursed Energy this time.
They reeled me in with promises of sweet nothings. They promised me consistent food and water. They promised me shelter and a good bed…
And for the homeless child that used to be me, that was more than enough to bind my entire soul to work for them.
That's fine.
I did the same in this life.
And the first thing they did was give me a sword.
A blade. A normal one. Not a Cursed Tool- Never would they ever give a Cursed Tool.
A katana.
It fit perfectly, despite being too big for me.
The servants… No, the slaves of the Fujiwara are all given a blade to work with. They eat, sleep and even go to the bathroom with them, so as to infuse their curses into them and create Cursed Tools for the assassin's arsenal. The ones with high potential are taken for to become assassins, those with mid level potential are to become servants within the Fujiwara household and the low ranking ones are either sold on the slave market or given suicide jobs. Simple, right?
And if those slaves end up with a powerful noble they don't like, then well- Their assassination becomes all the much easier.
Though usually they all get trained together. With that weeding only happening once they reach 15 years old.
Life within the Fujiwara Slave Training area is hell. People come and people go. They don't check for anything. Funnily enough, the low potential and high potential ones are the safest. Because the low potential ones can be sold for money and the high potential ones into good assassins. But the middle potential ones? Unless you've got good looks going for you, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who cares that you've caught an illness or have a bad wound. After all the Fujiwara only ever need so many servants.
And of course, once you reach 11 years old, you begin training bed techniques.
Honey traps are important after all, and well trained sex slaves sell for much more than regular ones. Of course, its also good to keep the moral of those training these slaves up too, which is an added bonus.
We had about twenty trainers and around 140 kids. Of all kinds of ages, young and old. Well, as old as you can get.
From 5 at the youngest to 14 at the oldest.
It disgusts me. All of it does. But what power do I have to change it? I am weak and such is the era.
Only those of high potential get to choose their weapons. But one thing is for sure.
None of us have names. Only numbers.
Some of us had names before coming here, but that privilege was taken from them.
For those like me, we never had names to begin with.
Well, I had one. Naruoko gave it to me.
Muji.
Quite a bad name. But I like it.
Our promises were given. It was a Binding Vow between two people after all. Failure to comply means death.
We had more food than we could ever eat, but it was mushy slop that tasted worse than shit. Ground meat cooked with half rotting vegetables. Worse than pig feed, but it was ours. And we were voracious.
We had enough water to swim in, but it was full of impurities. We were thankful there wasnt any human waste inside, but even that was an unknown.
We had shelter to sleep in but was simply a thatch roof mud hut that hardly kept out any rain and wind with. Sometimes even 20 kids slept together in the same room, ordered by age. But that was a good thing, after all we could huddle together to share our body heat. It was the only thing that was ours. Aside from our swords. And our clothes. Well, if you were younger than 11 I mean.
We had beds but they were merely just an elevated slab of wood with a small bundle of hay for a pillow. And of course there weren't enough of those so some of us had to sleep on the same one.
It was hell.
And it was also a miracle that any of us survived to become 15 at all.
Everything in this place binds me, and everything that binds me is disgusting. Everything is disgusting. So much so that i had to stop myself from puking out my guts just from taking the binding vow.
Not to mention the social hierarchies. Bullying was beyond rampant here. Because of course it was. They grouped up so many children and expected them to not bully?
It was hell. So it was only right to relieve ourselves of this hell a bit by making it hell for others.
I was a victim of it, I still am. Even with all my experience I am still the Weakest. Even with this Cursed Energy I am still the Weakest. I have far less than I did before, because I have far less Binding Vows than I did then. Though if I were to make all those Binding Vows again I would have much more than my first life. Because I have had a taste of freedom and have gotten addicted to it.
Fortunately, my lack of talent extended into the bed. I had awful bed technique, and I couldn't learn any very easily…
Though perhaps it was an unfortunate thing because my lack of technique lended me away from the female trainers and towards the male ones.
I was short for my age and, apparently, was quite pretty too. In the words of those trainers…
"Dress him up a little and you can't even tell the difference between him and a women."
The same experience in my first life too.
And so I had to sit through it all, both in my first life and my second.
A few tried to leave, tried to rebel, to say they didn't want to participate in training anymore... Even cussing them out was enough to count as 'Betraying the Fujiwara Clan' and thus, they all died. Typical of a Binding Vow between two people, the answer towards you breaking it is almost always death.
Those that saw it happen instantly became greatful. Greatful that it wasn't them who died.
Not to mention the brainwashing.
"The Fujiwara Clan is the Greatest" or "There exists no Kami other than the Head of the Fujiwara Clan"
Things of that nature engraved into our minds.
I for some reason never gave into the brainwashing. Maybe its my firm disbelief in any Kami's existence whilst I was a child and didn't know any better that allowed me to bypass that brainwashing.
I believed that there was no Kami. Or that if there was, simply none of them cared for me.
I grew up homeless after all.
Beyond that, I was never not homeless. Ever since the day I gained consciousness I was on the street. A homeless man raised me. But he died of disease long before I could understand him.
I had to mature fast. Other kids taught me what to do, helped me with what I couldn't. Played with me. Kept me from dying. But they all died too.
In the end I was the last of them to die.
Those with high potential were taught Jujutsu.
Those without were taught swordsmanship.
Of course, by potential I mean Innate Techniques.
Time passed and I reached 15. And my Suicide Mission was given.
"Enter Edo Jujutsu High and observe the new Special Grade Sorcerer, Sukuna." I heard him say. An elder of the Fujiwara Clan. I couldn't remember his name for the life of me.
"Yes sir." Was the only response I could give before I stopped.
Nothing has changed.
My sword skill has improved marginally.
But thats it. Nothing has changed.
The training was helpful, but…
But my talent is too low. I didn't learn enough.
And so I pause.
Should I…
I mean-
I could.
But would my technique even-?
No.
I should.
I close my eyes and bring the blade that had been with me for the past 5 years to my neck.
"What are you-"
I steeled myself.
My arm yanks down and slice.
I try not to hesitate, but I do, which only makes it more painful as my arms go limp and I drop to the floor.
And I wake up there again.
I crack my stiff neck.
"Let's try this again…"
My third life was quicker.
I spent the six years before Fujiwara training the sword skills I had to no avail.
By the time I had my mission given to me I still wasn't strong enough.
And so I killed myself.
And it repeats again.
Another 11 Years full of training. Another 11 years of almost zero progress.
And then another 11.
And then another 11.
And then another 11.
Until I reach a point.
A point where my swordsmanship lulls. I've made great progress. But even still I don't feel like I have.
I feel like I'm missing something
My swordsmanship is without anything.
It is a simple swordsmanship.
Horizontal Slash.
Vertical Slash.
Diagonal Slash.
Thrust.
Those four movements.
Its simply but… I need more.
My foundations are rock solid, but I have no clue how to build up from those foundations…
Another 11 years.
I think I know what I'm missing.
The systematic nature of a Swordsmanship Style.
But where will I find a swordsmanship teacher who will teach me?
I escaped Fujiwara. I spent 20 years of my life away from Jujutsu Society as a whole, searching for someone willing to train the talentless me. Of course I was training during that time. I don't make the stealing Binding Vow so I don't need to entangle myself with the Fujiwara at all. And more than that, my swordsmanship may not be very good, but it's good enough to survive away from the Fujiwara clan.
Another 20 years. I looked in the north.
Another 20 years. I looked further north.
Another 20 years. I am 80 now. I can conclude that the north is not a place where I may find a teacher. I die of old age.
Another 80 years. Neither is the south. I die of old age.
Another 80 years. Neither is the west. I die of old age.
Another 80 years. Neither in the east. I die of old age.
I can confidently say that there is not a single person in the entirety of Japan willing to teach me swordsmanship.
No one is willing to teach me… So its simple.
I'll just make my own Swordsmanship Style.
80 years pass. I fail at making my own style.
80 years pass. I fail at making my own style.
80 years pass. I fail at making my own style.
80 years pass. I manage to do it.
80 years pass. I make very little progress.
80 years pass. I make even less.
80 years pass. I make none.
Why. Why am I so talentless? It feels as if everything I do is simply just bound to fail.
All those years… and right now, I'm a mediocre swordsman at best.
I need… No. I want it. I want to do this. And so I will.
It is in my nature to reject my needs. I only do what I want. And I want this.
I did not make less progress. I simply made progress.
80 years pass. I make progress.
80 years pass. I make a bit more.
80 years pass. I make a tiny bit more.
80 years pass. My style is missing something.
Yet I do not know what it is…
Experience. Experience against others. That's what it was missing.
I come to this realization and crack my neck. Until I get more experience fighting, my swordsmanship will stay stagnant…
"Haha… Having no talent sucks… Almost 1,300 years worth of effort but I finally did it…" I say to myself. Sitting on my ass, absolutely annoyed to hell and back at how much time that took. I could've backed out halfway. I didn't need to master it to this level. Swordsmanship is important sure, but to a sorcerer? I can't become the strongest via just this. But I wanted to, and so I did. Because that is freedom, "Well I gotta give it a name, right? It's my swordsmanship… So how about the Nameless Sword?"
I say out loud, to no one really. Mostly just myself. But it felt good. A fully mastered style of my own creation.
"Nameless Sword, First Stroke: Horizontal Slash." I close my eyes, I focus on the blade in my hand and swing it. I feel no resistance. I open my eyes.
Before me a cliff. And in that cliff a gash. A large, wide gash. Stretching 6 or 7 meters wide and 1 meter wide.
Of course such a feat is impossible with raw physical strength. Somewhere along the 500th Year mark I'd unlocked Touki. Of course the energy synonymous with hard work is also reliant on talent… But thankfully, gaining it once was enough for me to have it forever. Which is neat.
It's unfinished… Heck its shoddy work at best compared to Sukuna's slashes… But it'll work. For now at least.
I look down at the blade in my hand and pause. Taking a breath and smiling like a madman.
I raise it to my neck and yanked down, as my head flies clean off.
//Authors Note//
Chapter done. Tried to really portray the disgusting nature of the Fujiwara here. They do lots of bad stuff. Who would've thunk it.
Anyway, lots of skips this chapter. Also Muji creates and "masters" the Nameless Sword this chapter. Well, he mastered Swordsmanship at least. Will be probably taking a few moves from a bunch of different anime/manga/manhwa for his Nameless Sword.
Also a glimpse into how talentless he really it. It'll take millions, if not, hundreds of millions of lives before he's at the level of a 15 yr old Narauko/Sukuna. And that Narauko still hasn't tamed Maho.
1,277 years btw. Which makes him 1,309 yrs old now. God damn unc.