Three days earlier
"Hello?"
"Hey, old man. What've you got for me?"
"Hachiko statue. I'm waiting for my twenty million."
"Don't get ahead of yourself — I told you the bonus only comes through if the information is actually worth something."
"Do what you want."
The old courier hung up immediately after saying that, not bothering to wait for a response.
The receiver went back on the cradle. Out of the bedroom, into the living room — Toji was there on the couch, completely absorbed in his new console, not looking up.
"I'm heading to Shibuya. Back soon," said while pulling on shoes.
"Mhm." That was everything Toji had to offer.
Out the front door, closed behind. Onto the motorcycle, key turned, engine on.
---
Zoro
The house wasn't far from Shibuya, so the ride didn't take long.
The Hachiko statue stood right in front of the station exit, looking entirely unremarkable to anyone who passed it.
"Maybe…"
Observation Haki stretched outward. Traces of cursed energy were there, emanating faintly from the statue itself.
"Jackpot."
Those traces formed a path leading away from it. Following the trail through the surrounding backstreets eventually brought things to a small alley and, sitting at the end of it, a traditional restaurant.
"Irasshaimase," came the greeting as the door opened.
"Hello — one katsudon, please."
"Of course, sir. Please take a seat and we'll have it out for you shortly."
The traces continued inside. Following them through the room led to one specific table, tucked toward the back.
Sitting down, a hand slipped underneath the surface — an envelope, taped firmly to the underside.
"About time."
Shrrrrsh.
Envelope torn open, contents spread out on the table.
The old man had not cut corners. The file was genuinely substantial — schools attended, academic records going back years, medical history, known associates, neighbors, and considerably more beyond that.
"He really did go all out. That twenty million clearly meant something to him."
But out of all those pages, only one small section held any real interest.
Immediate Family:
— Father: Tsukumo Haku, Grade 1 sorcerer. Deceased in the line of duty.
— Mother: Tsukumo Hyo, Grade 1 sorcerer. Deceased in the line of duty.
— Maternal aunt: Todoroki Miyuki, Grade 2 sorcerer. Alive.
Current location: Stellar Plasma ancestral residence, approximately three kilometers south of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
The teeth pressed together at the sight of the cause of death listed for Tsukumo Hyo.
'Is Tengen genuinely not connected to this?'* A few moments of genuine thought, then a slow head shake. *'No jumping to conclusions. The full story will come out eventually. Right now, what matters is the priority in front of me.'
Head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling.
"Three kilometers south of Jujutsu High."
That meant the location would be heavily watched, surrounded by barrier after barrier stacked on top of each other.
A slow smile.
"Meh. Easy win."
---
Three days later
Finding the Stellar Plasma's residence hadn't been the hard part. Finding Tokyo Jujutsu High was.
The school was hidden behind a distortion barrier — completely invisible to the eye, and running Observation Haki across the entirety of Tokyo to find it wasn't something worth considering.
The solution turned out to be simpler: locate a window user and follow them back to the source. It worked exactly as planned, and the school revealed itself.
From there, the rest should have been simple.
Suited up in the usual mission outfit, three swords at the hip, standing on the roof of the building in broad daylight. Honestly, arriving dressed like this at this hour was a genuinely terrible decision. Fortunately, skills have a habit of compensating for terrible decisions.
Slipping through the corridors, listening carefully to every conversation drifting past.
The vast majority were completely meaningless. One wasn't.
"Yuki-sama is still in the bath. Do you think she'll head straight to the archives after?"
"She's gone every single day for two years without a single exception. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened today, so I don't see today being any different."
*The archives. That's convenient. No need to search for her — she'll come directly to where I'm waiting.*
Direction changed. New objective: find the archives.
After more than ten minutes of searching, a building came into view that looked exactly like what ancient archives were supposed to look like — old, underfunded, and somewhat neglected.
Inside, straight into the nearest dark corner.
"Now all that's needed is to wait. It shouldn't take long."
Two full hours passed.
"What is she doing? Two hours in the bath is excessive by any standard. Did that servant point me in the wrong direction entirely?"
The patience was nearly gone, and the decision to leave had been almost made — when the door opened.
'Finally.'
A silhouette stepped into the room, flashlight in hand.
When the face caught the light, there was no question. It was her.
She looked exactly like the little girl from ten years ago — the baby softness and the unguarded innocence both gone, replaced by something older and more composed.
'Only just making this connection now, but she really does look like her mother. She's going to be genuinely striking when she's older.'
Something already established with Toji applied here too: people in this world didn't look like their anime versions. Beyond a few reliable details — hair color, eye color — immediate recognition would be difficult without additional context.
She was moving through the room with her brows pressed together, the expression of someone who'd bitten into something unpleasant, and then she said something.
"Unfortunately, the Stellar Plasma is never getting access to those."
"Access to what?"
The words came out audibly, completely unintentional.
'Damn. What an idiot.'
By the time the mistake registered it was already too late. She'd heard it clearly.
"KYAAAA! WHO'S THERE?!"
The flashlight swept across every corner of the room in rapid arcs. Staying out of the beam required constant movement.
The first real opening appeared, and the body moved behind her, hand coming over her mouth before any sound could leave it.
Only at that moment did she register the presence — and immediately started fighting.
"Please be quiet. I only want to talk." As calm and non-threatening as the voice could be made — frightening her further wasn't useful to anyone.
It worked. The tension left her body and the struggling stopped. The hand came away. She was allowed to turn.
She looked for a few seconds, taking in the face and the mask and the swords.
"My name is Roronoa Zoro. And I owe your mother a debt."