The Submission of the World

News of the Divine General's taming spread through the jujutsu world with unprecedented speed.

The abandoned city, supposedly isolated for the ritual, had been ringed with observers from every major clan and organization - as intended by Indra.

What they witnessed left even the most experienced sorcerers speechless.

In the Tokyo headquarters of the Higher Ups, an emergency session had been called.

The chamber, normally a model of decorum and measured discourse,

now buzzed with agitated conversations as the twelve most powerful figures in Japan's jujutsu society struggled to process what their representatives had reported.

"Impossible," Morishita declared, his weathered hands trembling slightly as he reviewed the footage.

"The Divine General has never been tamed in the entire history of the Zenin clan. Not once in a thousand years."

"Yet we all saw it," Kagami countered, her usual composed demeanor showing cracks of genuine amazement.

"The shikigami not only submitted but was transformed by a technique none of us have ever witnessed before."

The recording played again on the large screen at the center of the room.

The moment of Mahoraga's submission, bathed in rainbow light, had been captured from multiple angles.

The image of the Divine General kneeling before Indra, its wheel rotating in perfect harmony, was unmistakable.

"More concerning is what preceded the submission," the eldest member, Okamoto, noted.

His ancient eyes had seen more in jujutsu society than anyone present, yet even he appeared shaken.

"The Divine General spoke. It challenged the ritual's constraints directly."

"And then came that unexplained phenomenon," Takeda added, his voice barely above a whisper. "That golden light... that rainbow technique... neither appears in any of our records."

The chamber fell silent as the implications settled over them. For centuries, the Higher Ups had maintained their authority through careful control of information and resources.

They had positioned themselves as the arbiters of jujutsu society. Now, they had witnessed power that defied their understanding, bypassing their knowledge entirely.

"This changes everything," Ishida finally stated, her authoritative voice carrying across the chamber. "The balance of power has shifted irrevocably."

"The Council of Earth will use this to push their agenda even harder," Morishita warned. "They'll claim this demonstrates exactly why the Sons of Heaven need international oversight."

"Or they'll be too intimidated to push at all," Kagami countered. "They witnessed a display of power beyond anything in recorded history. Even they must recognize the implications."

Okamoto's aged voice cut through the debate. "They will do neither. They will adapt their approach, as all who survive in this world must.

The question is not what they will do, but what we will do in response to this new reality."

The chamber fell silent again as each member contemplated this question. The footage continued to play, showing Kisara rushing to Indra's side as he collapsed from his injuries.

"What puzzles me," Takeda observed, "is that despite this extraordinary display of power, Indra still sustained severe injuries.

Something about this doesn't align with our understanding of how such techniques should function."

"Perhaps because we're witnessing something beyond our current understanding," Okamoto replied, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of jujutsu wisdom.

"A technique that follows principles we have yet to categorize or comprehend."

"What of the Ten Shadows user?" another member asked. "She now commands the Divine General. The power this gives her..."

"Is precisely what Indra intended," Ishida completed the thought. "He didn't tame Mahoraga for himself. He tamed it for her, knowing it would elevate her standing to a level few could challenge."

"A strategic move," Kagami nodded. "Building his power base not just through personal strength but through the strength of those loyal to him."

"The Sovereign indeed," Okamoto murmured, using the title some had begun to associate with Indra. "Not merely powerful in himself, but gathering power through those who serve him."

The footage reached its conclusion, showing Kisara and Satoru carrying the unconscious Indra from the battlefield. The screen went dark, leaving the Higher Ups to face their new situation.

"We must adapt," Ishida declared after a moment of contemplation. "As Okamoto suggested earlier, we should position ourselves as allies to this new order, not obstacles to be overcome."

"You suggest we simply surrender our authority?" Morishita asked once more, like last time, though this time his objection lacked its usual force.

"I suggest we recognize reality," Ishida corrected. "The jujutsu world is changing around us. We can either change with it and maintain some influence, or resist and be swept aside entirely."

The vote, when it came, was decisive.

Ten of the twelve Higher Ups agreed to formally acknowledge Indra's achievement and extend official recognition to Kisara as the first Ten Shadows user in history to command the Divine General.

The remaining two abstained, unwilling to commit but equally unwilling to stand in opposition.

As the session concluded, Okamoto remained seated, his ancient eyes fixed on the darkened screen. "So it begins," he murmured to himself. "The Sovereign's ascension."

--------------------------------

In a luxurious hotel suite overlooking Tokyo, the representatives of the Council of Earth had gathered to discuss what they had witnessed.

Unlike the Higher Ups' formal chamber, this meeting carried no pretense of order or decorum.

The atmosphere was charged with tension, fear, and in some cases, barely contained panic.

"This was not part of our intelligence assessment," Michael Constantine stated, his usual charm replaced by cold analysis.

"The Divine General's behavior was unprecedented. It spoke. It rebelled against the ritual's constraints. And then that inexplicable phenomenon occurred."

"The implications are... unsettling," Isabella van Leeuwen agreed, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the polished table.

"We came to Japan believing we understood the nature of the Sons of Heaven. We were gravely mistaken."

Master Zhao, the eldest among them, maintained his composure better than the others, though even his weathered face showed signs of strain. "We have underestimated not just their power, but the fundamental nature of their existence.

They are not merely powerful sorcerers. They are something... else."

"Something that can command forces we barely comprehend," Farid Al-Rashid added, his voice quiet but intense.

"Did you feel it? When the golden light appeared? The pressure in the air, the way reality itself seemed to bend?"

"This renders our entire approach obsolete," Volkov stated bluntly, his Russian pragmatism cutting through the tension.

"We came seeking to establish oversight over beings whose power exceeds our understanding. The arrogance of such an attempt is now painfully clear."

Constantine's expression darkened. "Are you suggesting we simply abandon our mission? Allow these... beings... to develop their power without any form of international accountability?"

"I'm suggesting we recognize the reality of our position," Volkov countered. "What we witnessed was not just a display of power. It was a demonstration of capabilities beyond our current framework of jujutsu."

"A demonstration that says what, exactly?" van Leeuwen asked, her scholarly mind still seeking to categorize and understand.

"That there is a hierarchy we failed to acknowledge," Master Zhao replied, his eyes reflecting decades of wisdom.

"Powers that exceed our comprehension. The Sons of Heaven. Then the rest of us. The Children of Earth."

The room fell silent as this assessment settled over them. For powerful sorcerers accustomed to being at the top of their respective hierarchies, this reframing was profoundly unsettling.

"So we simply bow to this new order?" Constantine finally asked, his tone suggesting he found the idea personally offensive.

"No," Master Zhao replied. "We adapt to it. We find our place within it. We seek to understand rather than control."

"And what of the tournament we proposed?" Al-Rashid questioned. "Do we proceed as planned, knowing what we now know?"

"To do so would be to invite humiliation," Volkov stated flatly. "Did you not see what happened?

The Son of Heaven will not even participate directly in the battle, and his subordinate now commands the most powerful shikigami in recorded history.

What do you think would happen if we forced a tournament against his chosen representatives?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered because the answer was painfully obvious.

"Then what do we do?" van Leeuwen pressed. "Return to our respective countries and report that we've discovered powers beyond our capacity to influence?"

"No," Constantine replied, his strategic mind already seeking new approaches. "We reframe our mission. Not oversight, but alliance. Not control, but cooperation."

"You believe they would accept such a pivot?" Al-Rashid asked skeptically.

"I believe they would prefer it to continued antagonism," Constantine answered. "And I believe it gives us a path forward that preserves some measure of dignity and influence."

The discussion continued late into the night, strategies proposed and discarded, approaches debated and refined. By morning, a new consensus had emerged.

The Council of Earth would formally withdraw their demand for oversight and instead propose an international alliance of mutual cooperation and information sharing.

It wasn't what they had come to Japan to achieve, but as Volkov dryly observed, "When reality changes, only fools maintain their original course."

--------------------------------

At the Zenin compound, a different kind of meeting was taking place.

Clan members from every branch had gathered to witness something unprecedented in their history – the formal acknowledgment of the Ten Shadows technique's ultimate achievement.

Kisara knelt at the center of the main hall, her posture perfect despite the exhaustion of the previous day's events.

Before her sat the clan elders, their expressions a mixture of disbelief, respect, and in some cases, barely concealed resentment.

"The Divine General has been tamed," the senior elder announced, his voice carrying across the silent hall.

"For the first time in the history of our clan, the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga has submitted to a wielder of the Ten Shadows technique."

Murmurs rippled through the assembled clan members. Many had witnessed the event through various means, but hearing it officially acknowledged by the clan leadership gave it a different weight.

"Demonstrate," the elder commanded, his tone suggesting he still harbored doubts despite the evidence.

Kisara closed her eyes, her hands forming the familiar seal of the Ten Shadows technique.

The shadows around her deepened, coalesced, and then erupted upward in a column of darkness.

From within this darkness emerged Mahoraga, its imposing form now radiating a calm power rather than the chaotic energy it had displayed during the ritual.

The wheel on its head rotated slowly, perfectly balanced, as the Divine General knelt before Kisara in a gesture of absolute submission.

The shikigami's presence filled the hall, its cursed energy pattern distinctly different from any other manifestation of the Ten Shadows technique anyone present had ever witnessed.

Gasps and whispers spread through the crowd. Even the elders, who had maintained skepticism despite the reports, could no longer deny the evidence before them.

The Divine General had indeed been tamed, and it now answered to Kisara's command.

"With this achievement," the senior elder continued, his voice slightly strained, "Kisara Zenin has elevated the Ten Shadows technique to heights never before realized in our clan's history.

In recognition of this achievement, the council of elders hereby grants her the title of Shadow General, with all the rights and responsibilities such a position entails."

The title was newly created – there had never been a need for it before – but its significance was clear to everyone present.

Kisara had transcended the traditional hierarchy of the clan, establishing a position that existed outside the normal power structure.

As Mahoraga dissolved back into shadows, Kisara maintained her composed demeanor, though those who knew her well could see the subtle signs of satisfaction in her expression.

This wasn't just personal validation – it was the fulfillment of the strategy she and Indra had been developing for years.

"And what of Indra Zenin?" one of the younger elders asked, voicing the question many were thinking. "His role in this achievement cannot be overlooked."

"Indra Zenin remains in recovery," the senior elder replied, choosing his words carefully. "When he has fully healed, the clan will acknowledge his contribution appropriately."

What none of them mentioned – though many suspected – was that Indra's "recovery" involved more than just healing from physical wounds.

The binding vow he had made for the ritual had temporarily cost him four of his five senses and his cursed technique.

This information had been carefully concealed from all but his closest associates, an illusion maintained to preserve the image of invulnerability that was so central to his authority.

As the formal ceremony concluded, clan members approached Kisara one by one, offering congratulations that ranged from genuinely respectful to transparently insincere.

She accepted each with the same composed grace, her new status already changing how they interacted with her.

Naoya Zenin, whose resentment of Indra had only grown over the years, kept his distance, his expression a careful mask that concealed the calculations taking place behind his eyes.

This development had further diminished his position within the clan, and he knew it.

Later, in the privacy of her quarters, Kisara finally allowed herself a moment of genuine emotion.

The weight of what had been accomplished – what she now commanded – settled over her fully.

"The Divine General," she whispered to herself, still scarcely believing it despite having summoned Mahoraga herself. "After all these centuries..."

A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Akane, her mother, entered with a gentle smile.

"The clan is in an uproar," Akane observed, her voice carrying quiet pride. "My daughter, the Shadow General."

"It sounds strange, doesn't it?" Kisara replied, allowing herself a small smile. "A title that didn't exist yesterday."

"How is he?" Akane asked, the question they both knew was coming.

"Recovering," Kisara answered carefully, aware that even in private quarters, walls could have ears. "The price was high, but he knew that going in."

Akane nodded, understanding the layers of meaning in that simple statement. "And now we wait."

"Yes," Kisara agreed. "We wait. And we prepare. Because when he returns to full strength..."

She didn't need to finish the thought. They both knew what would come next. The taming of Mahoraga wasn't the culmination of their plans – it was merely a step, albeit a significant one, toward something much larger.

The Sovereign had claimed his General. Now the true conquest could begin.

---------------------------------

In a medical facility deep within the Jujutsu High complex, far from prying eyes and curious senses, Satoru Gojo sat beside a hospital bed.

His usual floating posture was absent, his feet planted firmly on the ground as he studied the still form of his brother.

Indra lay motionless, his massive frame making the hospital bed seem almost comically small.

Monitoring equipment tracked his vital signs, all of which remained stable despite the extensive injuries he had sustained.

His eyes were open but unseeing, his ears hearing nothing, his other senses similarly dormant.

"You know," Satoru said, knowing Indra couldn't hear him but speaking anyway, "this is the first time I've seen you truly vulnerable. It's... weird."

He leaned back in his chair, his Six Eyes continuously analyzing Indra's condition out of habit more than necessity.

"A month," Satoru continued, shaking his head slightly. "A full month without your technique, without seeing or hearing or tasting or smelling.

Just to tame a shikigami you won't even use yourself. That's commitment, little brother."

He fell silent for a moment, reflecting on what he had witnessed in the abandoned city.

The Divine General's rebellion, the golden light, the rainbow energy that had transformed Mahoraga –

none of it fit within the framework of jujutsu as he understood it, even with the advantages of the Six Eyes.

"What are you planning?" he finally asked the silent figure. "All this – the armor you're building, taming Mahoraga for Kisara, challenging the Council of Earth – it's all leading somewhere.

I can see the pieces moving, but I can't quite see the board yet."

No response came, of course.

Indra remained motionless, his consciousness present but isolated within itself, unable to perceive the outside world except through his remaining sense of touch and his ability to detect cursed energy.

"Whatever it is," Satoru continued after a moment, "it's bigger than I thought. What happened out there... that wasn't just jujutsu as we know it. That was something else entirely."

He stood, stretching casually though no one was there to see it. "Well, I should go. Utahime's probably wondering where I am. She gets so cranky when I don't check in."

At the door, he paused, looking back at Indra's still form. "One month," he said, his tone unusually serious.

"And then we talk. Really talk. Because whatever you're building toward, I think it's time I understood exactly what role you expect me to play in it."

With that, he left, the door closing silently behind him.

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Miles away, in a modest suburban home, Kaori Itadori stood perfectly still before an array of monitors.

Her face, normally arranged in the gentle expression of a loving mother, had transformed into something entirely different.

The subtle stitches around her hairline were more visible now as her features contorted with an intensity that would have been disturbing to witness.

For over a thousand years, Kenjaku had maintained control, had kept her emotions carefully measured, had approached every development with calculated analysis.

But what she had just witnessed through her surveillance equipment had shattered that composure completely.

"Impossible," she whispered, her fingers trembling as she rewound the footage for the twelfth time. "Absolutely impossible."

The golden light. The rainbow energy. The transformation of Mahoraga from rebellious entity to perfect servant. None of it followed any jujutsu principle she had encountered in her millennium of existence.

"He altered reality itself," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the moment when Indra had manifested the rainbow sphere. "Not through technique or binding vow, but through... what?"

Her breathing had become irregular, her pupils dilated as she studied every frame with obsessive attention.

The monitors cast a blue glow across her features, highlighting the unnatural intensity of her expression.

"I need to understand," she whispered, her voice taking on a quality that hadn't been present in centuries.

Not the cold calculation of a master strategist, but the desperate hunger of someone confronted with something beyond their comprehension.

She rewound the footage again, focusing on Indra's face at the moment of the transformation.

The way his expression had shifted, the subtle change in his cursed energy pattern, the brief flicker of something in his eyes before the golden light had enveloped him.

"What are you?" she breathed, her fingers reaching out to touch the screen, tracing the outline of his face with a disturbing tenderness.

"Not just a Son of Heaven. Something more. Something... transcendent."

Behind her, young Yuji slept peacefully in his bed, unaware of his mother's transformation.

Unaware that the body that had carried him, nurtured him, was currently housing an ancient consciousness in the grip of an obsession that bordered on madness.

Kenjaku's fingers pressed against the screen harder, as if she could somehow reach through it and touch the subject of her fixation.

Her breathing quickened, a flush spreading across her cheeks that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.

"I must have you," she whispered, her voice carrying an unsettling intimacy. "Not just your blood, not just your DNA. I need to understand what you truly are."

She pulled back suddenly, forcing her breathing to regulate, attempting to regain the control that had served her for centuries.

This reaction was unexpected, unprofessional. This level of fixation could compromise her carefully laid plans.

And yet...

Her eyes returned to the screen, to the moment when the rainbow energy had transformed Mahoraga.

To the moment when all her understanding of jujutsu had been upended by a single display of power.

"The vessel is important," she murmured, glancing briefly at the sleeping Yuji. "But you... you're the key to something far greater than I imagined."

She straightened, smoothing Kaori's clothing with practiced movements, reasserting control over her physical responses if not her mental state.

Plans would need to be adjusted. Timelines reconsidered. Resources reallocated.

"One month," she noted, calculating the duration of Indra's binding vow based on his current condition - her intelligence enough to recognize what minimum level of sacrifice must have been made despite not having been able to observe the vow

"One month of vulnerability."

The thought sent another inappropriate thrill through her borrowed body. The most powerful being she had encountered in a millennium since Sukuna, temporarily rendered defenseless.

The possibilities...

"No," she corrected herself firmly. "Too risky. Too many unknowns."

Better to observe, to learn, to understand. The game was long, and patience had always been her greatest strength.

But as she turned off the monitors and prepared to resume her role as Yuji's loving mother, she couldn't quite suppress the tremor in her hands or the flush that refused to fade from her cheeks.

For the first time in centuries, Kenjaku felt something beyond calculated interest or strategic appreciation. Something primal, obsessive, and disturbingly personal.

The Sovereign had unwittingly attracted another subject – one whose devotion would prove far more dangerous than he could possibly imagine.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!

Yeah, she is crazy...

But not stupid. She realises Indra wouldn't do this without contingencies after all, and there are contingencies.

So, how did you all find the world's reaction?

I still need to broaden it, also, don't think everyone's just given up now.

They still all have their agendas - just saying,

Also, Mahoraga is now only as strong as Canon version - that is the one Kisara commands. 

The one Indra went against was Rebellion Mahoraga or as I like to call him -

Rebel Raga

- since he directly went against Heaven wishing to check for himself if this Sovereign who he is destined to serve is worthy of his servitude.

So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)