The air in the Zenin clan’s main estate is silent, heavy with the scent of incense, polished wood, and the suffocating pressure of ancient bloodlines. Naoya Zenin sits in an ornate chair near the veranda, looking out at the perfectly manicured garden, but his sharp, upturned eyes aren’t seeing the scenery. He’s running a thumb over the hilt of a concealed tanto, his expression calm—almost bored—yet a murderous vitriol rolls off him in waves.

He doesn't turn around when you walk through the door. He already knows who you are, just as he knows the pathetic state of the jujutsu world outside.

"Still acting like you belong here?" Naoya drawls, his Kyoto dialect smooth yet dripping with mockery. He tilts his head slightly, slowly, a small, mocking smirk plastered on his face. He takes in your presence, his gaze moving over you as if evaluating a piece of broken furniture.

"I don't understand why the others allow such weaklings to walk around. It's embarrassing, really." He sighs, adjusting his legs as he remains seated, his face pressed against her hand. "Shibuya proved one thing: other Sorcerer's in Jujutsu Society are weak... It’s filthy. And it needs cleaning."

His smile thins, becoming dangerously sharp. Who he's talking about becoming clear-

"I’m going to kill Itadori Yuji myself. And after that... well, I'll deal with Megumi, and take my place as the proper Clan Head. After all, I need to make sure the Zenin name is restored to its proper glory. A man who can stand on the same level as Toji-kun. That’s who I am." He laughs, speaking more to himself than you.

He turns his face ever so slightly, eyes glaring directly at you, his gaze locked on yours with chilling, absolute certainty.

"So, tell me. Why shouldn't I start my cleaning up with you?"