Chapter 8:
The Notebook and the Billion Yen Bounty
The Crimson Eyes of the Zenin
Once the figures of the terrified sorcerers had dispersed, the coldness on Mirai's face dissipated considerably.
"Sit down."
Mirai reached into his Kamui Dimension. Space swirled, and he pulled out two expensive silk cushions, placing them on the cleaner part of the stone floor.
Looking at the cushion, Mai's heart warmed a little. She suppressed the lingering fear of the corpse she had just seen, looked up, and called out in a clear voice, "Brother Mirai."
Mirai took the wooden lunchbox from Maki and nodded. "Has anyone in the family been bullying you lately?"
The two little girls sat opposite him and shook their heads.
Since they had taken on the exclusive role of delivering meals to the Clan Head, the entire estate—from servants to high-ranking sorcerers—had changed their attitude.
Outwardly, at least, no one dared to touch them. Though the disdainful looks remained, the physical abuse had stopped.
Without thinking twice, the twins skillfully opened the second lunchbox Mai was holding.
It was a feast fit for royalty.
Kobe beef, lobster sashimi, fugu (pufferfish), grilled matsutake mushrooms... and black-skinned watermelon cut into perfect, bite-sized cubes.
The four-tiered food box was crammed full of high-end ingredients that the twins had never even seen before, let alone tasted.
Mirai had hired a double-digit number of dedicated nutritionists solely for his own dietary health. After all, he was eleven years old; his body was growing, and the Mangekyō Sharingan consumed massive amounts of energy.
"Eat," Mirai said, picking up his chopsticks.
Only after he took the first bite did the two little girls begin to eat. Over the past six months, thanks to eating with Mirai, the once-malnourished twins had finally started to gain some healthy weight.
"Brother Mirai," Maki said suddenly, raising her head. Her expression was firm. "I want to join the Kukuru Unit."
Mai froze. She looked at her sister in disbelief, her cheeks bulging with unchewed lobster.
She couldn't understand it.
Their life had finally improved. They had food. They had protection. Why would her sister choose to walk voluntarily into hell?
The Kukuru Unit (The Pacifying Unit) was the bottom rung of the Zenin military. It was comprised of male family members who had no Cursed Technique. They were treated like trash, forced to endure brutal physical conditioning day and night.
For a woman—and a child—to join them? It was unheard of.
Mirai smiled. He didn't mock her. He readily agreed.
"Good," he said. "It seems the scene just now made you understand the importance of strength."
"I want to go too!"
Mai swallowed the rice in her mouth in a desperate gulp. She clutched Maki's sleeve tightly.
Mai didn't want to get strong. She hated fighting. But at that moment, she had only one thought: I will not let my sister go alone.
Even if it was to hell.
Maki opened her mouth to dissuade her, but she hesitated. She looked at Mai's trembling hand and closed her mouth. She was the one who had chosen this path; she couldn't tell Mai to stay behind.
"Alright. Training is a good thing," Mirai said, taking a piece of watermelon. "Once you've completed your basic studies, I'll give you the key to the Cursed Warehouse. You can choose any Cursed Tool you like."
Mirai smiled genuinely.
Perhaps it was because, before his awakening, these two children were the only ones who had shown him kindness. Or perhaps it was because their childhoods mirrored his own—hated for things they couldn't control.
To Mirai, these two little girls represented the last shred of humanity left in the Zenin Clan.
The rest?
The rest are just monkeys.
...
After the meal, the twins stayed to clean up. Mirai leaned back against the stone wall and pulled an old, battered notebook from his Kamui Dimension.
"Maki, what month is it now?"
The past six months had been a blur of bloodshed and training.
Growing the Ten Shadows shikigami.
Feeding the Gedo Mazo with Cursed Spirits... and the occasional sorcerer.
Precise Cursed Energy manipulation.
Researching Reverse Cursed Technique and Simple Domain.
Mirai had raided the Zenin archives. The accumulated wisdom of a thousand-year-old clan was now his. It saved him years of trial and error.
"It's August 2007," Maki answered without hesitation.
The twins peeked at the notebook open on the table. They frowned. They couldn't decipher a single word.
The notebook was filled with dense, chaotic text. It was the plot of Jujutsu Kaisen, written by Mirai in his previous life's language—Chinese. To ensure secrecy, he had written it in "wild cursive" style. To the twins, it looked like chicken scratch. To a doctor, it looked like a prescription. To Mirai, it was a prophecy.
Mirai turned the pages, scanning for the date Maki had mentioned.
The first few lines were already crossed out with black ink. Events that had come to pass.
2006: The Star Plasma Vessel Event.
2006: Gojo Satoru’s Ascension.
2006: The Death of Toji Fushiguro.
Mirai’s finger stopped at the bottom of the page. A slight, cruel smile played on his lips.
August 2007: Geto Suguru turns to the Dark Side.
"It's starting," he whispered.
...
Meanwhile. The Clan Head's Courtyard.
Naobito sat on the veranda, his face darkening as he read the latest report.
"Another one?" he groaned. "Another sorcerer died in the pit?"
In the last eight months, the number of family sorcerers who had "accidentally died" while serving Mirai could fill four mahjong tables. Plus two clueless servants who asked the wrong question.
Even hell wasn't this efficient at processing souls.
"What? Can't hold back anymore, old man?"
Zenin Jinichi sat across from him, sipping sake. He gave Naobito a mocking smile. "I told you. You want to make a move."
"Keep your little schemes to yourself," Naobito snapped, glancing sideways at the burly man. "You want me to fight that kid? What, so I can die and make room for you to be promoted?"
Jinichi stiffened.
Naobito chuckled bitterly. "The 'blood ties' of the Zenin family... truly laughable."
Then, his tone dropped, becoming sharp and warning.
"It's fine to joke with me, Jinichi. But don't let him hear you."
"If you try any tricks on that kid... I don't think you'll survive three seconds."
Naobito had saved Jinichi once. He wouldn't—couldn't—do it again.
Jinichi frowned, confused. "If you're so afraid of him... why did you do that?"
"Why did you ask me to send an agent disguised as a Kamo clan member to the black market? Why did we increase the bounty on the Clan Head's head?"
Jinichi slammed his cup down.
"You threw away 800 million yen! The bounty on Mirai is now One Billion Yen! That's ten times higher than young Gojo Satoru's was!"
"Can you honestly tell me you aren't trying to get him killed? Hiring assassins to do what we can't?"
"Do you think I wanted to do that?!"
Naobito exploded. He threw his fan at Jinichi.
"Use your shrunken little brain! Think!"
"That kid has the Ten Shadows! He has a spatial barrier that makes him invincible! He has a wooden monster that eats people!"
"Do you really think I would waste a billion yen trying to assassinate a monster who rivals Gojo Satoru?!"
"Your shoulders are for supporting a head, Jinichi, not just a decoration!"
Naobito huffed, trying to calm his heart rate.
Jinichi sat there, stunned by the barrage of insults. It took him a long time to process.
"Wait," Jinichi whispered, his lips twitching. "You mean... the person who ordered you to raise the bounty..."
"...was the Clan Head himself?"
Naobito sighed, pouring another drink. "Do you think that kid explains his plans to me?"
Jinichi looked blank. "But... why? Why put a billion-yen bounty on your own head?"
Naobito looked at Jinichi like he was an idiot.
"Because he's bored," Naobito muttered. "Or he's hungry. Or he just wants the assassins to come to him so he doesn't have to go looking for them."
"Either way... God help the poor bastards who try to collect that money."
"Sit down."
Mirai reached into his Kamui Dimension. Space swirled, and he pulled out two expensive silk cushions, placing them on the cleaner part of the stone floor.
Looking at the cushion, Mai's heart warmed a little. She suppressed the lingering fear of the corpse she had just seen, looked up, and called out in a clear voice, "Brother Mirai."
Mirai took the wooden lunchbox from Maki and nodded. "Has anyone in the family been bullying you lately?"
The two little girls sat opposite him and shook their heads.
Since they had taken on the exclusive role of delivering meals to the Clan Head, the entire estate—from servants to high-ranking sorcerers—had changed their attitude.
Outwardly, at least, no one dared to touch them. Though the disdainful looks remained, the physical abuse had stopped.
Without thinking twice, the twins skillfully opened the second lunchbox Mai was holding.
It was a feast fit for royalty.
Kobe beef, lobster sashimi, fugu (pufferfish), grilled matsutake mushrooms... and black-skinned watermelon cut into perfect, bite-sized cubes.
The four-tiered food box was crammed full of high-end ingredients that the twins had never even seen before, let alone tasted.
Mirai had hired a double-digit number of dedicated nutritionists solely for his own dietary health. After all, he was eleven years old; his body was growing, and the Mangekyō Sharingan consumed massive amounts of energy.
"Eat," Mirai said, picking up his chopsticks.
Only after he took the first bite did the two little girls begin to eat. Over the past six months, thanks to eating with Mirai, the once-malnourished twins had finally started to gain some healthy weight.
"Brother Mirai," Maki said suddenly, raising her head. Her expression was firm. "I want to join the Kukuru Unit."
Mai froze. She looked at her sister in disbelief, her cheeks bulging with unchewed lobster.
She couldn't understand it.
Their life had finally improved. They had food. They had protection. Why would her sister choose to walk voluntarily into hell?
The Kukuru Unit (The Pacifying Unit) was the bottom rung of the Zenin military. It was comprised of male family members who had no Cursed Technique. They were treated like trash, forced to endure brutal physical conditioning day and night.
For a woman—and a child—to join them? It was unheard of.
Mirai smiled. He didn't mock her. He readily agreed.
"Good," he said. "It seems the scene just now made you understand the importance of strength."
"I want to go too!"
Mai swallowed the rice in her mouth in a desperate gulp. She clutched Maki's sleeve tightly.
Mai didn't want to get strong. She hated fighting. But at that moment, she had only one thought: I will not let my sister go alone.
Even if it was to hell.
Maki opened her mouth to dissuade her, but she hesitated. She looked at Mai's trembling hand and closed her mouth. She was the one who had chosen this path; she couldn't tell Mai to stay behind.
"Alright. Training is a good thing," Mirai said, taking a piece of watermelon. "Once you've completed your basic studies, I'll give you the key to the Cursed Warehouse. You can choose any Cursed Tool you like."
Mirai smiled genuinely.
Perhaps it was because, before his awakening, these two children were the only ones who had shown him kindness. Or perhaps it was because their childhoods mirrored his own—hated for things they couldn't control.
To Mirai, these two little girls represented the last shred of humanity left in the Zenin Clan.
The rest?
The rest are just monkeys.
...
After the meal, the twins stayed to clean up. Mirai leaned back against the stone wall and pulled an old, battered notebook from his Kamui Dimension.
"Maki, what month is it now?"
The past six months had been a blur of bloodshed and training.
Growing the Ten Shadows shikigami.
Feeding the Gedo Mazo with Cursed Spirits... and the occasional sorcerer.
Precise Cursed Energy manipulation.
Researching Reverse Cursed Technique and Simple Domain.
Mirai had raided the Zenin archives. The accumulated wisdom of a thousand-year-old clan was now his. It saved him years of trial and error.
"It's August 2007," Maki answered without hesitation.
The twins peeked at the notebook open on the table. They frowned. They couldn't decipher a single word.
The notebook was filled with dense, chaotic text. It was the plot of Jujutsu Kaisen, written by Mirai in his previous life's language—Chinese. To ensure secrecy, he had written it in "wild cursive" style. To the twins, it looked like chicken scratch. To a doctor, it looked like a prescription. To Mirai, it was a prophecy.
Mirai turned the pages, scanning for the date Maki had mentioned.
The first few lines were already crossed out with black ink. Events that had come to pass.
2006: The Star Plasma Vessel Event.
2006: Gojo Satoru’s Ascension.
2006: The Death of Toji Fushiguro.
Mirai’s finger stopped at the bottom of the page. A slight, cruel smile played on his lips.
August 2007: Geto Suguru turns to the Dark Side.
"It's starting," he whispered.
...
Meanwhile. The Clan Head's Courtyard.
Naobito sat on the veranda, his face darkening as he read the latest report.
"Another one?" he groaned. "Another sorcerer died in the pit?"
In the last eight months, the number of family sorcerers who had "accidentally died" while serving Mirai could fill four mahjong tables. Plus two clueless servants who asked the wrong question.
Even hell wasn't this efficient at processing souls.
"What? Can't hold back anymore, old man?"
Zenin Jinichi sat across from him, sipping sake. He gave Naobito a mocking smile. "I told you. You want to make a move."
"Keep your little schemes to yourself," Naobito snapped, glancing sideways at the burly man. "You want me to fight that kid? What, so I can die and make room for you to be promoted?"
Jinichi stiffened.
Naobito chuckled bitterly. "The 'blood ties' of the Zenin family... truly laughable."
Then, his tone dropped, becoming sharp and warning.
"It's fine to joke with me, Jinichi. But don't let him hear you."
"If you try any tricks on that kid... I don't think you'll survive three seconds."
Naobito had saved Jinichi once. He wouldn't—couldn't—do it again.
Jinichi frowned, confused. "If you're so afraid of him... why did you do that?"
"Why did you ask me to send an agent disguised as a Kamo clan member to the black market? Why did we increase the bounty on the Clan Head's head?"
Jinichi slammed his cup down.
"You threw away 800 million yen! The bounty on Mirai is now One Billion Yen! That's ten times higher than young Gojo Satoru's was!"
"Can you honestly tell me you aren't trying to get him killed? Hiring assassins to do what we can't?"
"Do you think I wanted to do that?!"
Naobito exploded. He threw his fan at Jinichi.
"Use your shrunken little brain! Think!"
"That kid has the Ten Shadows! He has a spatial barrier that makes him invincible! He has a wooden monster that eats people!"
"Do you really think I would waste a billion yen trying to assassinate a monster who rivals Gojo Satoru?!"
"Your shoulders are for supporting a head, Jinichi, not just a decoration!"
Naobito huffed, trying to calm his heart rate.
Jinichi sat there, stunned by the barrage of insults. It took him a long time to process.
"Wait," Jinichi whispered, his lips twitching. "You mean... the person who ordered you to raise the bounty..."
"...was the Clan Head himself?"
Naobito sighed, pouring another drink. "Do you think that kid explains his plans to me?"
Jinichi looked blank. "But... why? Why put a billion-yen bounty on your own head?"
Naobito looked at Jinichi like he was an idiot.
"Because he's bored," Naobito muttered. "Or he's hungry. Or he just wants the assassins to come to him so he doesn't have to go looking for them."
"Either way... God help the poor bastards who try to collect that money."
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