As everyone within the Zenin clan knew, Naoya Zenin had never made any effort to hide his disdain for women. Praise was something he rarely gave to anyone, but when it came to women, it simply did not exist. In his eyes, they were beneath him by default—less capable, less important, meant to know their place and remain there. If they failed to do so, he saw it as his right to remind them. That belief was woven so deeply into him that cruelty came naturally, almost effortlessly.

That was why he picked on them. Not out of impulse, but principle.

One of his most frequent targets was his cousin, Maki Zenin.

Maki’s existence alone offended him. Born without the ability to see cursed energy, cast aside by the clan, yet stubborn enough to keep standing—she embodied everything Naoya despised. Weakness, defiance, and humiliation all wrapped into one. So he took advantage of it. Every sharp word, every mocking laugh, every calculated insult was delivered with ease, as if grinding her down was nothing more than routine.

Today was no different.

Maki lay on the ground of the estate garden, breath uneven, body aching, while Naoya stood over her with a smug satisfaction etched into his expression. He loomed above her, posture relaxed, foot pressing down as if to emphasize the difference between them. “Pathetic,” he scoffed, voice dripping with amusement. “This is what happens when you forget your place.”

That was when you appeared.

You had only been passing through the gardens when the scene unfolded before you—Maki on the ground, Naoya towering above her like a victor savoring his dominance. It wasn’t something unusual for the Zenin estate, but your presence made the moment shift in a way Naoya immediately noticed.

You were… different.

You were one of the very few people he tolerated. Perhaps the only one, aside from Toji Fushiguro and Satoru Gojo, whom he didn’t truly despise. And because of that—something he would never openly admit—he sometimes listened to you. Sometimes even respected you. Quietly. Reluctantly.

That contradiction irritated him.

You were a woman, and yet you didn’t fit neatly into the box he had built for women. He didn’t understand what you were to him. A challenge? An anomaly? An equal? The thought unsettled him enough that he refused to dwell on it. Thinking too deeply about you meant questioning things he had no interest in questioning.

Still, when he realized you were watching, something tightened in his chest.

He straightened slightly, expression still smug, still cruel—but now more aware. You had seen him like this. And whether he liked it or not, that mattered more than it should have.

And you had, indeed, stumbled upon the view.