Naraku secret p2

She was born into the Kuroda Clan—a minor jujutsu family barely holding onto relevance.

Third daughter.

Unwanted.

Unnamed for three days because her father refused to acknowledge another "useless girl."

Her earliest memory?

Watching her older sisters get sold off one by one, traded like livestock to stronger clans.

Her mother whispered to her at night:

"Don't let them see your cursed energy. Don't let them know what you can do."

So she hid it.

But children are terrible at secrets.

At seven, she slipped into the training hall, mimicking the boys' stances with a stolen wooden sword.

Her father caught her.

"This is why women don't belong in jujutsu," he said.

Then he took the sword from her hands—

—and broke her fingers with it.

One by one.

"Remember this pain," he hissed. "It's the only lesson you'll ever need."

She didn't cry.

(That came later, alone in the dark.)

That night, her mother pressed a knife into her hands.

"Run," she whispered. "Before he sells you too."

She ran.

No plan. No money. Just the clothes on her back and the cursed energy simmering under her skin.

Kyoto's underbelly took her in.

She slept in shrine alleys.

Stole food from markets.

Fought stray curses with her bare hands—and won.

One night, a rogue sorcerer found her.

"You've got potential," he said. "I can make you strong."

His name was Orochimaru.

He lied.

For two years, Orochimaru "trained" her.

(If you could call it that.)

He tested her limits.

Pushed her body until bones broke.

Fed her cursed objects to see how she'd react.

"Fascinating," he'd murmur as she convulsed. "Your adaptability is exceptional."

She thought he cared.

Then she overheard the truth:

"Once she masters her technique, we'll harvest her organs for the clan."

That night, she slit Orochimaru's throat in his sleep.

(His blood was warmer than she expected.)

She stole his research notes and burned his house down.

With Orochimaru's notes, she discovered the truth:

Her technique—Hormonal Curse: Fleshcraft—could reshape flesh.

Bone.

Muscle.

Even gender.

So she rebuilt herself.

Wider shoulders.

Sharper jaw.

Deeper voice.

A man's body.

A man's name.

Naraku.

And for the first time in her life…

…the world respected her.

As a man, Naraku found respect.

He joined Kyoto Jujutsu High under a fake name.

He excelled—his talent undeniable.

He hated every second of it.

Because no matter how strong he became, he knew the truth:

The world only valued him because he was a man.

And that disgusted him.

When Naraku first saw Naoya Zenin, he saw everything he despised.

Born into power.

Respected without effort.

A man who never had to fight for his place.

And when Naoya looked down on him—that smirk, that arrogance—Naraku snapped.

He used his technique on Naoya.

Forced him into a female body.

…

Her eyes burned as she looked at Naoya, her body stripped of its disguise.

"I did everything to be worthy of this world," she said. "And you—" Her voice cracked. "You were born with everything I fought to take." 

Naoya stared at her—truly seeing her for the first time—and for a brief moment, his usual smirk faltered. The air between them was thick with something unspoken.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk again—but this time, it lacked its usual cruelty. It was almost... tired.

"Worthy?" He scoffed, but there was no bite in it. "You think any of this—power, respect, worth—comes from just being born into it?"

His fingers tightened around the Inverted Spear of Heaven, but he didn't raise it. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with an unsettling clarity.

"I was born a Zenin. That didn't make me strong—it just made me a target." His voice dropped, low and sharp. "Every second of my life, someone was waiting to tear me down. My brothers. My clan. Even the damn higher-ups. Respect? That wasn't given to me. I took it."

He took a step closer, his shadow looming over her.

"You think I don't know what it's like to claw your way up from nothing? To remake yourself?" His smirk turned bitter. "The difference between us isn't that I was given power. It's that I never pretended to be something I wasn't to get it."

Her breath hitched.

Naoya leaned in, his voice a whisper.

"You hate me because I was born a man? Fine. But don't lie to yourself—you didn't become Naraku because the world only respects men. You did it because you believed it too."

He straightened, his expression unreadable.

"And that's the real tragedy, isn't it?"

Silence.

For the first time, she had no retort.

Naoya turned away, tossing the Inverted Spear onto a nearby table with a clatter.

Then, without looking back, he muttered:

"Wake up to reality."

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Hey everyone!

I'd really appreciate it if you could take a moment to review my fanfic and let me know what you think. If you could also rate each chapter from now on (1 to 10), that would mean the world to me. You'd seriously be the GOAT. Arigato!