The air trembled for a moment as conflicting feelings of caution and suspicion reflected on Mikumo's face. "Old friends?" she repeated the phrase softly, as if trying to decode a mysterious message.
"I don't remember us being that way. I thought you saw everyone as enemies waiting for the right moment to pounce,."
the man raised an apple to his mouth and took a crisp bite, the sound echoing clearly, then said with a cold smile, "That's true. But I believe that the empty world is filled with filth in every corner. To clean it up, you can't do it alone." He looked at her with narrowed eyes and added, "And that's why I joined this truce."
He responded to her with a tone lighter than before but more sarcastic: "What matters is strength... strength alone governs this world, Mikumo. All that talk about balance, about peace, ultimately holds no weight. The battle is what defines, and the battle alone reveals the truths."
J laughed mysteriously, while his eyes glinted mischievously. "Unlike you, I find pleasure in the process itself, not just in the outcomes. As for the outcome... it's just an inevitable end, while the battle is where the true spirit of the game lies."
Mikumo's eyes slowly narrowed as his words came to an end; she cared little for fleeting words compared to strength and action. As an expert in Jujutsu and one of the pillars of Yami, she would not tolerate annoyance or manipulation. Her patience was wearing thin; suddenly, the calm that surrounded them vanished, replaced by a cold shiver that enveloped them like a heavy cloak. "Don't pretend to understand what's on my mind."
Mikumo's voice sharpened like the edge of a sword: "I know you don't come without purpose. So, what do you really want, the Devil's Fist, Jinzad?"
As her words ended, a shadowy figure emerged— a man dressed in strange clothes that looked foreign. He wore a unique demonic mask, and his skin was a dark brown.
If there was someone from his homeland who could recognize him, it was Jinzad, a living legend and a hero with divine status in his country.
About thirty years before the series began, Jinzad participated in a war against a Western power, leading a guerrilla unit on the front lines. After single-handedly saving his country from near extinction, he rose to earn the title of the God of the Devil's Fist.
Without a doubt, he is a first-rate fighter, even by Yami's standards. Jinzad is considered one of the strongest masters of Yami, and his esteemed status cannot be denied.
His skills in Pencak Silat make him a unique fighter, as he alone changed the course of his homeland's war, being one of only two recognized by Hayato Forinji (the Superhuman) himself, with whom he fought a grueling battle.
"Ha ha ha ha... now that's what I call a conversation!" he said, laughing in a frightening tone, but his laughter suddenly cut off. His expression changed, and his aura became more enigmatic, as if reflecting the depths of a dark world hidden behind him.
The Devil's Fist smiled with deep sarcasm, indicating that their conversation would not merely be a fleeting exchange of words.
"Purpose? Mikumo, we are not enemies, at least not today. I came just to assess your readiness. I've noticed that Hayato Forinji has been moving recently and gathering like-minded fighters. As for you... you've distanced yourself from the arena lately, and that's intriguing."
Mikumo fixed her gaze on his moving shadow, observing every movement as if studying his intentions. "My readiness?" she replied coldly, still rooted in place, as a tremendous energy of Chi began to seep from her, making her as unyielding as a mountain.
"I'm the one who helped found Yami. If you doubt my loyalty because of my past, you're wasting your time. More importantly, I tolerate your arrogance now, but don't think this will last long."
The Devil's Fist laughed coldly, unconcerned by the implicit threat in her words. "That's very dangerous, Kōtsūnada," he said kindly. "I'm just expressing my curiosity; is this excessive animosity for a simple question?"
"By the way, when I came to visit you a moment ago, I witnessed an exciting battle between the two children. From what I remember, the little girl is your adopted daughter, who truly represents the next generation of Jujutsu fighters.
I noticed she mimics your fighting style precisely, as if she is skillfully replicating your movements. As for the older boy, from his style, it seems he has only recently begun learning Jujutsu. Could he also be your student?" The Devil's Fist asked.
The man took another step closer, as if trying to clarify what was on his mind. "The students you train are not just students receiving knowledge. You're training soldiers, tools of war relied upon in battles."
Mikumo stood firm, as an expert in martial arts. Yet, she could not accept doubt about her training methods and objectives when others began to question her approach.
"The students are a reflection of their teacher. If they are weak, it means I have failed. And I do not accept failure; I do not allow mistakes to be repeated."
Jinzad asked, his eyes focused intently on the target that piqued his interest, "Does this mean the boy also has talent in martial arts, and it seems to me he is impressive? Are you considering training him as a student to join your ranks?"
When he posed the question, silence fell for a moment, and Mikumo recalled what she had witnessed months ago when she saved the child from near death due to his injuries. That moment was etched in her memory.
"That thought did cross my mind," Mikumo admitted quietly.
Jinzad laughed as he pulled an apple from beneath his robe and bit into it without hesitation.
His voice brimmed with sarcasm, "So, perhaps you won't object to me testing him myself in the future. After all, all my students are exceptional." His tone reflected boundless confidence, as if he wanted to showcase his superiority.
His response included a slight nod of his head, as if he awaited confirmation from her side. Then he added with a slight nod, "In the end, there is no escape from fighting to the death. This is our fate as martial artists, especially among the nine fists." He spoke as if battle were a natural part of their journey, a part of life itself.
Mikumo responded to his question. After receiving her implicit permission, the man leapt from the balcony with a grace resembling that of a monkey, his bare feet striking the edge of the window before landing on the grass within the garden.