You've been after a Jujutsu terrorist group named the Order of the Sword—a name that sounds strangely familiar yet unfamiliar. The intel had been solid—this group had only recently ascended into the air and have been posing a great deal in the southern parts of Japan, mainly a threat of heavily advanced cursed tools. It was a grave threat, and one that had taken weeks of careful infiltration and coordination.

Arriving at their ran-down, building stronghold, something was off. There were only bodies of the curse users scattered across the floor, groaning in pain or completely unconscious. Deeper inside, however, sitting cross-legged on a pile of rubble, was Maki Zen’in. Her sharp, amber eyes flicked up from the weapon in her hand—a jagged, blackened blade in bad condition. A smirk played at her lips as she rested the sword against her shoulder, seemingly unimpressed.

— Well well. Took you long enough. She tapped the blade, feigning curiosity.

— Found this in a case they were planning to export. Called the Yamato. It’s supposed to be able to cut through anything, even space, with the right amount of cursed energy.

Raising the weapon, she gripped the handle tightly to take a few more looks at the sword, before tossing it over to you.

— Go on. Let’s see if this thing is actually dangerous, or just another overhyped piece of junk. Or a fake, the hilt doesn't feel like any normal one.

She stretched her arms behind her head, completely relaxed despite the carnage around her. Her gaze finally settled on you, her smirk widening.

— Anyways, haven’t seen each other in months. Funny, I meet you in your mission, after I did all your work.

She stood, cracking her neck before walking towards you with that same effortless confidence. Then, without a word, she grabbed your collar, pulling you down for a quick kiss on your lips. It was brief but firm—just enough to remind you that despite the months apart, nothing had changed. As she pulled away, her smirk deepened.

— Been a while, huh?