The night was cold and dark as it was meant to be, the leaves stirred, and the air softly whipped the trees. Along with this, the moon shone brightly in the cold and dark night.
Everything was in its place, as it should be, right?
Well, no.
Lying high up in a tree was a hooded figure dressed entirely in black, who seemed to merge with the night itself, gazing at a compound.
The Zenin Clan.
A place full of arrogant people, filled with ambitious lunatics who valued potential and strength more than life itself...
The place was solitary and dark; however, the lights from the chandeliers and the guards patrolling silently, showcasing their superhuman abilities as they leaped across rooftops with a ninja-like finesse, hinted otherwise to the inexperienced and skeptical eye.
The figure, of whom only one eye could be seen, soon disappeared into a vortex that distorted space itself, leaving behind only the air as a trace.
----------------------.
For Toji, the world had been cruel for as long as he could remember. Set aside and discarded like a piece of trash, he had faced things that no one his age should have to endure. Used to this mistreatment by those he could consider his family, today had been just another normal day for him in this hell.
Once again, he found himself locked in this cold, dark, and forgotten room of his clan, where he was regularly thrown by force to face his fate, either to die or to fight tooth and nail for his life to survive one more day.
Why did he even bother to live? Was it because of the hatred he held for this clan? Was it because of the desire to kill his tormentors, the ones who inflicted suffering on him day after day? Or was it because he naively believed that one day they would give him the love and validation he didn't even have for himself… a love he longed to feel?.
Because, after all, he was still just a child in the end.
There had to be a reason for all this, right? There had to be a reason why his family hit him, pushed him, cut him, whipped him, dragged him out into the clan complexes on cold nights, forgot to feed him, called him a failure, trash, a disappointment, and repeatedly threw him back into this room, as they had today, where he faced curses that would probably end up killing him one of these days.
He had always been different in a world where everything was done through cursed energy, where the strongest possessed the best rituals, and where the most privileged and beloved wielded incredibly powerful and destructive techniques or had intellect that surpassed the ordinary. He was born as a sort of punishment.
A punishment from heaven or whatever one might call God above. A punishment that determined his future in this hierarchy as a slave to this family. The Zenin Clan was known for being one of the Three Great Clans (御三家, Gosanke) alongside the Gojo Clan, one of the most powerful, and the Kamo Clan, having won a solid position in jujutsu history with their great achievements.
However, they held the custom of valuing cursed techniques above all else, rejecting or discriminating against anyone who couldn't wield cursed energy or didn't possess a technique of their own, as they expected their members to be "perfect," even if they were blood relatives.
And unfortunately, he was one of those they despised for not having a decent cursed technique. From what he knew, he had been born with something called "Heavenly Restriction," a trait that completely stripped him of cursed energy in exchange for an enhanced physique, amplifying his strength to nearly inhuman levels.
At fifteen years old, he was already much stronger than many of the adult members of his clan. Leaning against a wall, his apathetic gaze stared into the immense darkness of the room, while all around him lay the broken bodies of curses, scattered everywhere.
There he was… drowning in his daily misery. He'd been there for at least six hours, and no one had come back to get him. Why? Because, probably as always, they had forgotten about him. More hours would pass, maybe even more than that, until someone finally decided to drag him out of there. His face was covered in dirt and the blood of the curses. How had he survived this? Simple—his fists had done the work, finishing off every threat that had tried to take his life. His clothes were torn and filthy, unchanged for days because he couldn't, because he wasn't allowed. They didn't even let him treat most of his wounds, and some of them were made worse under the excuse that:
"Trash without a ritual like you doesn't even deserve to be part of our great Zenin clan, or a piece of garbage like you doesn't even deserve medicine. You don't even deserve to live."
"If you had died, this family would be happier."
"If you hadn't been born, maybe she wouldn't have died."
"It's all your fault, monkey trash without cursed energy."
"You are the disgrace of the Zenin Clan."
Remembering that stupid phrase, he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Damn it… damn bastards, I don't give a shit…"
His usual cold, apathetic mask had contorted with the rage and icy hatred he felt toward this clan. In his mind, he kept seeing the faces of those people who ridiculed him for being someone without cursed energy.
"Failure, trash, idiot, fool." Words that shattered his spirit, made him stop believing in the clan, in his family, and in everyone around him who had made him who he was.
"IF YOU HAD BEEN BORN WITH CURSED ENERGY, EVERYTHING WOULD BE BETTER! YOUR BROTHER IS BETTER THAN YOU! YOU ARE NOT MY SON; YOU DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE. YOU'RE NOTHING BUT TRASH, A STUPID DEFECT!"
The memories of his father saying all those words when he was younger—each one of those words cut deep into his soul. The constant repetition of them, the indifferent gaze of his father, and his apparent coldness from the day he first spoke those words of hate had broken him in a way that couldn't be fixed. His father was the 25th leader of the clan, and this was how he treated him, just for being different.
His story with his brother, Jinichi, was something else. He had always tried to protect him, to understand him, but… he, too, had been forced to be like them, to turn his back on him—and he understood that.
As he was lost in thought, from the shadows, a red eye with strange designs observed him.
Slowly, footsteps echoed, quickly pulling Toji out of his inner misery and bringing him back to reality, immediately alerting his instincts.
The figure of a tall man appeared, with short hair and a long black hooded cloak, his face hidden behind an orange mask with dark patterns that aligned over his right eye. He wore a long-sleeved black suit that covered his neck and chin, a pair of black gloves, black pants, and old shinobi-style black shoes. The two men stared at each other tensely. Toji was on high alert, his mind flooded with questions about how this man had gotten there, who he was, where he had come from, and whether he was an intruder.
Toji stood up slowly, some of his wounds still fresh, and took a fighting stance.
He wasn't going to ask questions, as he always expected the Zenin clan to send someone at any moment to kill him, considering the hatred its members held for him for not having a ritual or the ability to generate cursed energy.
The man simply looked at him, and Toji grew more tense, uncertain of the expression behind that mask.
Or what intentions he had toward him.
The man placed his hand on his mask and pulled out a piece of bread accompanied by a glass of orange juice.
Calmly, he extended the food toward a skeptical Toji.
"I know what it's like to be like you."
The man said to the boy standing before him.
"Don't say things you don't know… you don't know what it's like to be me, you don't even know me."
Toji replied fiercely, fighting the urge to throw himself at the food in front of him.
"You're wrong. I've seen every aspect of your life. I've been watching you, and I know what your life is like… Toji Zenin, we're not so different from what you think."
Toji was skeptical of the man's words, his sharp intellect and distrust kicking in as the stranger began to approach him slowly.
"Don't come any closer."
Growling, Toji was about to lunge at the masked man in front of him.
"You can attack me—"
The moment he uttered those words and drew close enough, Toji didn't hesitate to throw himself at him.
With a powerful push from his legs, he launched himself forward without a second thought, aiming for the man who simply stood there as if unmoved by his imminent attack.
As Toji came face-to-face with him, he threw a punch at his maximum speed, limited by his injured and battered body.
But to his surprise, his fist passed right through the man's face, as if he wasn't there at all.
After his fist passed through, his entire body followed in turn.
Still stunned and suddenly exhausted from acting on impulse without thinking through the consequences, he fell forward, hitting his head and rolling across the floor…
Though still conscious, his body was weak and tired. Calmly, the man, who had simply stood still and allowed Toji's attack, turned to him, his gaze fixed with a blood-red eye.
Toji was surprised, momentarily hypnotized by the unique pattern in his eye. He stared, captivated, for a few seconds before shaking his head to break free from the effect.
'Who the hell is this guy?' Toji thought, frowning as he watched him, trying unsuccessfully to stand up. Just as he tried, the man spoke again, keeping him from moving.
"As I said, you can attack me, but it won't get you anywhere. You could never touch me, no matter how hard you tried."
The masked man extended the cup of juice and the bread in his direction.
Using his common sense, Toji allowed the man to come closer. Cautiously, he took the bread and juice from his hands.
Once he had them, he backed away as much as he could and began to devour the food.
He looked like a starving beast that might collapse if he didn't get something to eat. After drinking the juice and finishing the bread, he looked up at the masked man, who was also staring back at him.
The silence was so heavy that one could hear a pin drop in the room.
"Do you want power?"
At this question, Toji's mind went blank, and his gaze fixed on the man before him.
"What are you talking about?"
"If you want power… power to destroy this clan entirely… power to turn your punishment into a blessing… to punish those who torment you… to unleash the weight of your hatred on your captors… on those who call you a 'monkey.'"
"To show them they were wrong… isn't that what you've wished for? To make them suffer as you've suffered all these years."
A low chuckle escaped through the man's mask, but it was not a laugh of joy. It was cold and sinister, with a dark, amused tone.
"The world has no hope; it's a place filled with hatred and despair, and these people are the living example of that—desperation for power, to be superior, and hatred for those who don't meet their standards… trash, like you."
Through the mask, Toji could no longer see the man's gaze; it was obscured, hidden in darkness.
The man's tempting words left Toji feeling both confused and intrigued. Why would someone he didn't even know offer him power just like that?
"If I said yes, how much power would you be willing to give me?"
Toji's response was driven by hatred. He wasn't sure if this man was real or just a hallucination from his young mind, teetering on the edge of death.
But if this was real, power was what he needed to leave this place, to escape this hell. The man stared at him as if seeing through his ambitions and desires.
"I can't give you all the power in the world… but I can give you enough to decide what to do with your life, whether that's erasing the Zenins or escaping their grasp."
The man's words initially disappointed Toji.
He wouldn't deny it—the offer of power was tempting. He was getting carried away, but he would agree, as long as it let him be as free as he wanted.
Besides, power was power, no matter how you looked at it.
"Why are you helping me? Why me? What makes me so special that I'd catch your attention? Because…, if you've managed to infiltrate the Zenin clan undetected, you should… no, you *are* powerful. And it seems you know about my condition, so… what's your true intention?"
The man stayed silent, not saying anything for several minutes, leaving Toji staring at him.
"You'll find out soon enough. All you need to know now is that we'll start your training tomorrow, at the same time."
After finishing his statement, he turned and walked toward one of the walls, passing through it but not without leaving one final message.
"If you want to survive, you need power. If you want power, you know "I" am your best option. So survive one more day."
And with those words, spoken in an oppressive and dark tone, the man disappeared into the shadows.
Toji was left stunned and uncertain about what had just happened. A strange man had appeared out of nowhere, offering him help, just like that…
Questions flowed through his mind… what did this man have to gain from helping him, and why didn't he say why he was doing it?
There was something behind his intentions… but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.
That man, honestly…
His instincts told him not to trust him too much…
But if this man wanted to harm the Zenin, then he was an ally. He would put into practice the famous saying: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
Several kilometers away from the clan, the masked figure had reappeared atop a building.
With a deep breath behind his mask, he looked up at the moon, calculating his next moves.
Once again, another vortex swallowed him, consuming the man and leaving everything to return to normal.