Since that day, Satoru Gojo had been visiting almost daily, pestering me for a rematch.
"Hey! Today's the day for a real showdown! Come on, fight me already!"
"Satoru, you're here again? My condition isn't great today, so I can't indulge you. Surely you wouldn't feel satisfied winning against an opponent who isn't at a hundred percent?"
"Grrr...! Do you know how many times you've used that line? You're just scared of me, aren't you?"
"I'm telling the truth. I must have overexerted my Cursed Energy during our last bout; I've felt off ever since."
In truth, it was a blatant lie. I had already secured a victory against Satoru; there was no strategic reason to give him a chance to even the score. Besides, if Satoru focused on his training to surpass me while I did the same, we would both continue to scale—a win-win scenario where we served as each other's benchmarks.
"Come now, Satoru. Instead of fighting, what shall we play today? Is there something you want to do? I'll tell you now: hide-and-seek is off the table. Those eyes of yours see right through everything."
"Hmm... How about playing 'House'?"
"Sounds good. Why don't we bring Naoya along? She's my younger sister. It'll be more fun with more people, right?"
I never imagined I'd be playing 'House' at this age... For some reason, this brat's hobbies are unexpectedly domestic. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Regardless, if I can entertain Satoru and Naoya at the same time, it's a more efficient use of my day. In the original timeline, Naoya worshipped the ground Satoru walked on, after all.
"Fine... whatever. I don't really care," Satoru mumbled, trying to look indifferent.
"Then stay here. I'll go get Naoya."
I walked to Naoya's room and gave the sliding door a light rap.
"Naoya, are you in? Do you want to play 'House' with Big Brother? A friend of mine is here too."
The door flew open instantly, and Naoya practically tackled me. She looked up with a beaming smile.
"Brother! We're playin' House? That sounds like a right lark! But who's this friend of yours?"
"Remember the ritual duel from a while back? It's the heir of the Gojo Clan. He came by to play."
"Ugh. Why's that brat back again? It feels like every time I see you, Brother, you're only hangin' about with boys."
What on earth was she implying?
"Well, it's not like there are many girls our age in this estate. Besides, I like girls just fine. I came here specifically because I wanted to play with you, Naoya."
"Hehe... Is that so? Alright then. I'll play."
When I led Naoya back to Satoru, the Gojo heir was waiting with his arms crossed, his shoulders hitching in a haughty shrug.
"Hmph. So you're this guy's sister? You must have it rough, having a brother who constantly runs away because he's too scared to fight."
Those words were a direct strike to Naoya's 'Reverse Scale.' There was nothing she loved more than her older brother.
"What...? Brother, did I hear that right? Is this brat mental? Badmouthin' my brother right in front of me? You've got a lot of nerve for someone so scrawny!"
"Haha... Naoya, calm down. It's fine. Besides, he's the one who lost to me."
"Darn it! I told you, if we fight again, I'll win!" Satoru snapped.
"The important thing is that I won the ritual duel. That is the only fact the world will remember."
"Heh, I suppose that's true," Naoya added, covering her mouth as she let out a cute—yet deeply condescending—giggle. "So he's just fumin' because he got beat by my brother? How pathetic."
Satoru's hands trembled with indignation. He couldn't find the words to strike back at a girl younger than himself, especially when her logic was rooted in his actual defeat. The atmosphere was friction-laden from the very start.
I clapped my hands to break the tension.
"Alright, so what's the setup for 'House'? A hospital? A family?"
"Family, obviously," Satoru declared. "I'm the mother. You're the father. And that... thing... over there? She can be the baby."
"Hah?! Why should I? I'm the mother! My brother's the father. You? You can go roleplay as that tree over there!"
"Please, both of you. If you both want the same role, we can just play twice. Stop fighting."
A headache was already forming. I couldn't decide if inviting Naoya was the mistake, or if letting Satoru visit was the root of the problem.
"By the way, Satoru... why do you want to be the mother? Usually, boys don't go for that role."
Satoru started to snap back but then swallowed his words, whispering almost tentatively.
"Because... well! Ugh... at home, I'm always stuck being the 'father' figure. It's boring! I want to try being the mother for once."
"How did you play the father? Show us."
"Why are you curious about that? It's just how everyone does it."
"Exactly. How? Give us a demonstration."
Satoru hesitated for a moment, then shifted his posture, his voice taking on a strangely abrasive tone.
"Hey, woman! Your husband is home, and you don't even come out to greet me? This household is a disgrace! Go on, then—set the table and bring me my sake!"
"Pardon?" I stared at him, bewildered.
Where on earth did he learn that? What kind of 'House' had a father like that?
"Satoru... I hate to break it to you, but fathers aren't usually like that. What have you been watching? Some bizarre period drama?"
"Wait, that's not how it's done? I... I don't really know. I don't have parents."
Right. I remembered now. Satoru's parents had fulfilled their 'duty' by birthing the Six Eyes and were subsequently distanced—either confined or essentially exiled within the Gojo compound to prevent them from influencing the 'Living God.' Satoru had never known the warmth of a parental embrace.
"Well... feel free to come to our house often. My parents are very kind. They won't mind if you visit frequently."
"Hmph. I don't like the idea," Naoya huffed. "I already don't get enough time with my brother as it is. If this brat keeps comin' around, my time gets cut even shorter."
"Naoya, be nice. Satoru doesn't have friends, just like us. Back at his place, everyone probably avoids him because he's the Clan Head."
Satoru looked at me, his eyes momentarily shimmering with unshed tears.
"You guys don't have friends either? It's... it's really lonely in a Great Clan... I want to play with people... I see kids playing on the TV, but I've never done it. Except with you..."
"Yeah. So let's play together. We're bored too. Usually, I only have Naoya and Toji to keep me company."
"Hmph. I don't care about friends," Naoya muttered, though her tone softened. "Playin' with my brother is the most fun thing in the world anyway."
Having found his footing again, Satoru puffed out his chest and spoke with renewed bravado.
"Fine. I'll do you the favor of visiting often. You should be grateful."
"Right, right. Now, who's playin' the mother? Hurry up and decide. What kind of boy cries about wantin' to be the mommy?"
"I wasn't crying because of that!"
***
Since that day, Satoru continued to visit under the pretext of requesting duels, but in reality, he was just coming to hang out. Time flowed steadily. Soon, Satoru and I were eight, and Naoya had turned seven.
Shortly after her sixth birthday, Naoya awakened Projection Sorcery. Under our father's tutelage, she quickly grew accustomed to the technique. Surprisingly, her mastery and application of Projection Sorcery were so impressive that Father praised her incessantly; her motivation stemmed entirely from wanting to reach me faster whenever she saw me. More often than not, I'd find her suddenly appearing in my arms before I even noticed her move.
During these years, numerous assassination attempts occurred. Every assassin who crossed the threshold became nothing more than fuel for my Cursed Energy reserves. However, fearing that Naoya might be targeted in her sleep, I made a habit of staying by her side. She, of course, had no complaints, perfectly happy to fall asleep with her brother nearby, oblivious to the danger.
Eventually, Father informed me that he had identified the client behind the hits. I didn't need him to tell me; I already knew. Ogi Zenin. My uncle, my father's younger brother. He was a man with negligible talent but an insatiable greed for the position of Clan Head.
He likely wanted Naoya and me dead because, with the Ten Shadows and Projection Sorcery both manifesting in our generation, he knew his own future offspring could never hope to surpass us or secure the throne. In the original history, he would go on to have Maki and Mai, treating them like trash because they were born as twins—which divided their talent—and failed to meet his selfish expectations.
"Should we perhaps just leave him be for now, Father? Give him a stern warning. So far, no Curse User has actually managed to harm me."
"I'm the one worried for you, yet you seem perfectly unbothered, Touya. You've always been like this—walking around like an old man who's already seen the end of the world. What, can you see the future or something? Hahaha!"
Sharp, Father. Though I know you're only joking.
"Haha. You tell such interesting jokes, Dad. How could that be possible?"
"Bwahaha! I suppose so. Regardless, you are my pride and joy. Never forget that."
"I know, Dad. You're the only father I'll ever respect. So please, stay strong until I'm ready to take the seat from you."
"You little brat, saying such sweet things. Fine, I'll wait as long as it takes. Honestly, I'd love to hand it over to you right now and just spend my days traveling and drinking with Saya."
Hah... their relationship is as nauseatingly sweet as ever. At this rate, I might end up with another younger sibling soon.
"You know Mom doesn't like drinking. Control yourself. Take care of your health."
"Tsk. Why is it that everyone around me hates alcohol? Hurry up and grow up so we can share a cup, Touya."
"Understood. I'll head back to my room now. Rest well, Dad."
After bidding him goodnight, I returned to my room. As I did every night, I listened to Naoya's endless chatter until she finally drifted off. I was about to follow her into sleep when I felt it—an undiluted, malicious Cursed Energy that wasn't even bothering to hide itself.
"Young Master. Let us have a talk."
Hah... he finally decided to show up in person. The piece of trash currently defiling the Zenin name.
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