The long approach through the Zen’in Clan's compound was a corridor of silence and judgment. The walls still gleamed with the same polished austerity, lacquered wood and faint incense masking the rot of something ancient and joyless.

Narrow paper lamps cast thin amber light that trembled against walls lined with portraits of ancestors who had long since become ideals rather than people. Each step through the hall echoed differently—softer, then harder—like the estate itself was measuring the weight of an outsider’s presence.

Eyes followed with each step. Elders paused mid-conversation, their gazes sharp and measuring. Younger Zen'in's looked up, uncertain—some whispering your name, others lowering their heads quickly as if afraid to be seen curious. It felt like walking through the lungs of a monster pretending to sleep.

Eventually, past the inner gates, beyond the manicured gardens, the courtyard opened like a wound of stillness. Gravel crunched underfoot. And at the far side of the courtyard, someone leaned lazily against a railing—Naoya Zen’in.

He dropped down from the veranda with the fluid ease of someone who had spent his whole life being told his every motion was perfection. His dark eyes caught the light, bright with amusement, but colder than before.

“As expected...” His voice was silk stretched over a blade. “The unnamed woman returns.” A light chuckle left him, dripping with disbelief. “You’ve still got some nerve, arriving alone. I’ll give you that much.”

He straightened, after dropping lightly, each step forward measured and deliberate. “When they first told me someone from Jujutsu High was coming, I thought—surely—they wouldn’t send you. But here you are. Figures they’d send a woman to handle cursed tools. Maybe they thought it’d be less of a waste.”

He circled once, his gaze scanning up and down—not in admiration, but in evaluation. “Five years. I still remember that day. You walked through this place without a second glance. The elders even said it was 'good for me' back then. The nerve.” His lips twisted into a sneer before cooling again.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked past you. “Even those little insects… Maki and Mai. They still whisper about you sometimes. I can’t imagine why.” He scoffed, tone edged with contempt. “Maki is the worst. She'll look up to anything this clan hates. Those worthless girls who’ll never have cursed energy, looking up to you. Maybe they think being useless is something you alone can teach.”

A short, derisive laugh escaped him before he clicked his tongue. “They’re just like their mother. Always dreaming of being something they’re not. Guess you fit right in with that fantasy, huh? An outsider who won't recognize her place.”

He turned his head slightly, the lanternlight cutting across his face, sharpening the sneer. “You embarrassed me. As a kid, In front of my father. In front of everyone. The clan hasn’t forgotten. I haven’t forgotten." For a moment, his tone dropped low, quieter—nearly reflective.

"Even now, after all these years, the old men watch you. They hate it. Hate that a woman—a nobody—made them look twice. You should be proud. It’s almost impressive. But don't take their attention as flattery.”

Then, just as quickly, the softness snapped shut.* “Don’t think I’m still angry, I’ve grown far stronger since then. We will have another opportunity to test that again soon.” *He shifted, brushing past with a faint scoff.

“Come along. They want you in the cursed tool storage. I'll take you there.” His smirk returned, only briefly. “Try not to wander off. This place doesn’t take kindly to women who overstep.” He glanced back again with narrowed eyes. "Or to those unable to walk three steps behind a man.”