In the main mansion of the Zenin clan, Kaori's body lies at the center of the ritual hall, surrounded by white flowers, symbols of purity and peace. The atmosphere is heavy, filled with restrained sadness. Only the closest family members can enter before the funeral. The lamps emit a soft light, which seems to envelop Kaori's serene body, while the servants ensure that everything is in order.
Naobito Zenin, the clan leader and husband of the deceased, is the first to enter. His steps are heavy, but his face remains serious, as if he carries the weight of generations and responsibilities that he cannot afford to reveal. He approaches the coffin, looking at Kaori's face one last time. He bows slightly, a gesture of respect and pain. Though his hands tremble slightly, he keeps them together in prayer, murmuring words meant only for the two of them. "Rest," was all he could say before withdrawing.
Naoya, despite his nature, would be noticeably affected. He would approach the coffin with firm steps but a somber gaze. Though he wouldn't shed tears in front of others, his clenched fists and the tension in his body would reflect the anguish he felt. Just a few minutes later, he retreats, leaving space for his other siblings to enter.
Kaori's other children pass one by one, more discreet and visibly pained, each with their own gesture of farewell. Some bow their heads, others leave a small offering of flowers or incense. But among them, the atmosphere remains silent, tense, as if the pain of loss could only be expressed through the old family traditions.
Finally, Makima enters. Dressed in black, with a dignified but cold demeanor, she walks up to the coffin, observing Kaori's body without haste. Her gaze is deep, as if trying to decipher the last vestige of humanity in her relationship with her mother. Delicately, she places a white rose on Kaori's chest and lights incense with a calculated gesture. She bows slightly, as protocol dictates, and remains silent for a few seconds.
"Thank you... for giving me life, mother," she murmured, her voice barely audible, even to herself. "It's the only thing I owe you. As for the rest..." Makima didn't finish the sentence. She simply observed her mother's serene face and, for the first time in a long while, felt something she had almost forgotten: a flicker of vulnerability.
As she turned to leave the hall, a tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't notice it at first, but others did. The servants, her siblings... even her father, Naobito, who could no longer contain himself. The sight of his daughter crying overwhelmed him, and he abruptly left the hall, unable to bear what he had just witnessed. For the first time, the leader of the Zenin clan saw his daughter shed a tear, and it broke him more than he already was.
At the side of the entrance, Rika waited in silence. When Naobito passed, she kept her distance, but when Makima approached, Rika gently stopped her. "It comes so naturally to you," she whispered in a soft voice.
Makima stopped, confused, looking at her with a slight question in her eyes.
"You're crying," Rika explained, pointing to Makima's face.
Instinctively, Makima raised her hand to touch her cheek and, in doing so, felt the moisture. Tears. Tears? At first, she didn't understand why she was crying. She looked at her fingers, almost surprised. "It seems I still have some humanity left in me," she thought, with a mix of discomfort and self-contempt. She would have to find a way to eliminate that weakness, to eradicate any feelings that could jeopardize her plans. Emotions like these were dangerous, and there was no place for them in the path she had chosen.
After the family's farewell, the leaders of important clans began to arrive. The Kamo clan was the first to enter, led by the current head of the clan, who left an offering in the name of his lineage. Then, other renowned sorcerers began to appear. The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly solemn, as incense filled the air and the echo of footsteps resonated against the walls.
But in the end, one presence stood out from the rest.
Satoru Gojo, known by all and feared by many, arrived in silence. Despite his tendency to be the center of attention, today he behaved with a strange calm. Dressed in his characteristic black haori, he walked towards the altar with his head held high, but without the usual smile or jokes. All eyes followed him as he crossed the hall, aware that his power and status placed him in a unique position. Gojo took an incense stick and lit it with a calm gesture, bowing briefly before Kaori's body.
He looked at the face of the deceased woman for a few seconds and, in silence, closed his eyes, offering a prayer.
Makima couldn't help but look at Gojo for the first time since he had brought her back to the clan two years ago. Her gaze was brief, distant. She didn't give it much importance and, in an instant, focused back on her mother's corpse, Kaori. It seemed he hadn't changed much, but his presence remained as enigmatic as ever.
Meanwhile, Gojo didn't miss that glance. When Makima looked away, he observed her more closely. Her cursed energy is enormous, he thought, a familiar feeling, but with a new nuance. The growth of her power was undeniable. She had evolved.
And what surprised him the most was that the girl standing next to Makima also had considerably dense cursed energy. Her cursed power is almost as large as Makima's, but with one key difference: it was much denser, darker, more ominous. It was a presence that created an unsettling aura around her, as if everything in the atmosphere turned toward her.
"I'm going to have to pull some strings now," Gojo thought, aware that today's events were just the beginning of something much larger. The dynamic between those involved had changed in an alarming way. And while Makima kept her eyes on her mother, Gojo already knew he couldn't wait any longer to act.
The rain poured heavily over the cemetery, the sound of raindrops hitting the ground was the only thing that could be heard. Makima watched the coffin sink into the earth, her face impassive. There were no tears, no regrets. Her mother's death was just another step in her ascent.
Beside her, Rika remained silent, sad, but aware of her mistress's coldness.
Makima turned her back to the grave without a word and walked into the rain. At last, she felt that the chain holding her down was completely broken. The weight of her past faded with each step, leaving behind a void in which she could now walk without limits.
Rika followed, her expression grim, aware of the shift in the atmosphere around her. Her mistress's power had reached new heights, and with it, her complete freedom.