Agreement with the Zen'nin Clan (1/2)

After leaving Megumi and Tsumiki in their small apartment, Satoru walked through the city streets. With his hands shoved into his pockets, he kept a relaxed pace, but behind the casual facade, his mind was racing, analyzing every detail of the situation. 'Because of the Ten Shadows, they won't let go of Megumi that easily. The boy's practically a trophy to them...'

He stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the annoyed glance of a passerby who nearly bumped into him. 'Negotiating with the Zen'in is like talking to a snake's nest... but it's nothing I can't handle' Placing a hand on his chin, Satoru tilted his head slightly, sinking into deep thought.

***

On a sunny afternoon in the vast Zen'in clan estate, the wind blew gently, carrying the distant sound of laughter and the clinking of training swords. Maki, a little four-year-old girl with short dark green hair, crouched near a small garden, holding a stick and drawing shapes in the dirt. Her eyes sparkled with focus, oblivious to the world around her.

Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed over her. Maki looked up and saw Naoya Zen'in, fifteen years old, wearing a smug smile and standing with confident posture. He wore the clan's traditional uniform, though his kimono was slightly disheveled, as if he didn't care about formality. His cruel eyes gleamed with a mix of contempt and amusement.

"Well, look at that, little Maki playing in the dirt like a commoner," Naoya sneered, crossing his arms. He lightly kicked the dirt near her, scattering dust over Maki's drawings.

Maki frowned but didn't answer right away. She gripped the stick tighter, her tiny fingers trembling a little. "I... I'm just drawing," she murmured, barely audible, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"Drawing?" Naoya let out a sharp laugh, leaning in closer to her face. "Shouldn't you be learning some manners to become a useful woman? I mean, you must be good at something besides being a walking disgrace to the Zen'in clan."

The words cut like knives, and Maki felt a lump in her throat. Her eyes burned, but she forced herself not to cry. She stood up—small but defiant—the stick still in her hand. "I'm not a disgrace," she said, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm going to be strong... stronger than you!"

Naoya lets out a booming laugh, the sound echoing through the garden and drawing curious glances from other clan members in the distance, who nonetheless do not interfere. He steps forward, forcing Maki to retreat until her back presses against a large moss-covered stone. "Strong? You?" he mocks, his voice dripping with disdain. "A little girl with practically no cursed energy? Don't be ridiculous. Your fate is to serve coffee, clean floors, and if you're very lucky, maybe serve a man."

With a swift motion, he snatches the stick from her hand, snapping it in half with a sharp crack and tossing the pieces to the ground like garbage. "Stop dreaming. You'll never be anything."

Maki stares at the broken stick, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Her hands tremble, clenched into fists, and her eyes shine with a mix of humiliation and restrained fury. She opens her mouth to retort, but before a sound escapes, a new presence makes her freeze.

At the same moment, a hand rests on Naoya's shoulder. The gesture is light, almost casual, but carries a weight that makes the air feel heavier. Naoya freezes, the arrogant smile faltering, while Maki stares at the hand's owner, her mouth agape. 'He just… appeared?'

A boy with hair as white as snow, perhaps a bit older than Naoya, is there. His eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, are unreadable, but his posture is relaxed, almost mocking. He wears black clothing, but there's something about him — an overwhelming aura, as if the very space around him bowed in deference.

"Hey, Naoya," the boy says, "How about picking on someone your own size? Or can you only scare kids?"

'How?... how did he get in here without anyone noticing?!' Naoya turns his head slowly, his body stiff beneath the boy's hand. "G-Gojo Satoru," the name escapes his lips like a curse.

"My name!" Satoru exclaims, his grin widening in an almost childlike expression before shifting into something deadly serious. "Now, did I see that right, or were you actually intimidating a little girl? Because, you know, that's low, even for someone like you."

Naoya, red with anger and humiliation, tries to shake off Satoru's hand, but it's like he's trapped in a force field. "Y-you have no right to be here, Gojo!" he growls, his voice faltering.

Maki blinks, spellbound. She's never seen anyone talk to Naoya like that — as if he were nothing more than a bothersome insect. Her eyes lock on Satoru, watching every movement, every word. 'I… want to be like that.'

"Hmm, true," Satoru says, "but you know… who's gonna make me leave?" He peers over the rim of his glasses at Naoya. The Six Eyes, now visible, seem to pierce into the Zen'in youth's soul, making him gulp, speechless. The pressure in the air rises, and even Maki feels a chill, though it isn't aimed at her.

"..."

"..."

"..."

When the silence became suffocating, Satoru let go of Naoya's shoulder, and the Zen'in teenager stumbled backward as if freed from a crushing weight. "How about being useful and calling your father? I feel like having a little chat with him."

Naoya breathed heavily, his face twisted in a mix of fear and rage. He pointed a trembling finger at Satoru. "You... you're going to regret this, Gojo. The Zen'in clan won't let this slide!"

"Oh yeah? I'm shaking with fear," Satoru laughed, waving a hand dismissively in Naoya's direction like shooing away a fly. "Shoo, shoo!"

Naoya, unable to come up with a response, let out a frustrated grunt and turned around, stomping off with heavy steps. "This isn't over, Gojo!" he shouted over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridors of the estate.

Satoru sighed, adjusting his glasses. "What a drama. These Zen'ins are all the same, huh?" He turned to Maki, crouching down to her level. "You okay, kid? Didn't let that idiot get to you, did you?"

Maki hesitated, still processing everything. She looked at the broken pieces of the stick on the ground, then back at Satoru. "Why... why did you help me?"

Satoru smiled and placed a hand on the girl's head, gently ruffling her hair. "Because I wanted to. Simple as that." He stood up straight and began walking away. "If you ever get the chance, get out of here. The world out there is cruel, but a thousand times better than this place."

Maki frowned, confused by his words, but something in them stuck in her heart. She clenched her fists, her eyes shining with renewed determination. "I'm going to get strong... and prove him wrong."

Satoru waved over his shoulder. "That's the spirit."

***

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.