The training grounds of the Zenin estate stretched wide under the late morning sun.
Packed dirt ringed by low stone walls, weapon racks full of training weapons, and the polished, paved stone slabs of the training spots.
Groups of clan members moved in disciplined patterns. Older men drilling stances with wooden bokken, younger trainees practising basic reinforcement in tight formations, and the occasional burst of the legendary blue black energy known as cursed energy.
Tetsuya's small geta sandals clacked against the paved ground as the two servants led him forward, their grips light but unyielding on his hands.
They stopped at the edge of a cleared circle near the center, bowed low, and retreated without a word.
Jinichi Zenin stood alone in the middle of the circle, arms crossed over his broad chest, grey kimono sleeves billowing slightly in the breeze. His expression was the same cold, impatient mask Tetsuya had seen from the manga panels and the anime.
Jinichi didn't even glance at the servants as they left. His dark eyes fixed on the boy.
"You remember what cursed energy is, brat?"
Jinichi asked without preamble. The question was casual, almost bored, but there was an edge beneath it. Like he was testing whether the fever had scrambled the child's brain.
Tetsuya swallowed. He was four. Probably. His body felt about that size, and he didn't remember any kind of technique imprinted on his brain.
The fact that his clothes felt heavy was another point.
But his mind was still that of an adult, crammed full of snippets from every episode, every chapter, every fan theory he'd ever read, from god knew how many shows.
'Damn. Now I'm regretting not paying that much attention to the series.' Tetsuya thought with a grim expression.
He gulped, then straightened his tiny shoulders as best he could.
"Cursed energy is negative emotion made physical. Fear, all that kind of stuff is fuel for it.' Tetsuya spoke, internally sighing as Jinichi didn't say anything.
"Cursed energy is negative feelings that build up inside people and turn into power. We can see it, control it, and use it. It's what lets us fight curses."
He kept it basic. No mention of reverse cursed technique, no domain expansions, no binding vows. Nothing that would make a four year old sound like he'd been reading forbidden clan scrolls or something.
Jinichi's expression didn't change. But that was probably for the better.
"Decent." he grunted. "For a brat that spent the last three days puking his guts out, I suppose you haven't forgotten what I told you."
He uncrossed his arms.
"Show me then. Flare your energy."
Tetsuya's heart thudded against his ribs.
'Fuck me. I'm what? like four? What do you want me to do!'
Jinichi's face said it all. He wasn't expecting much. Probably because this wasn't the first time he had failed.
'What the hell does he expect?'
Still, Tetsuya tried.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward the way he remembered Gojo explaining it once in a segment. Negative emotions, focus them, let them flow.
He pictured anger, fear, the cold certainty that if he didn't get stronger, he'd end up just another body on Maki's list when the massacre came. He tried to focus on his stomach.
Nothing.
Not even a spark.
Jinichi's hand cracked against the back of Tetsuya's head. Sharp, controlled, but hard enough to make stars burst behind his eyes.
"Ow!"
The cry escaped before he could stop it. His small hands flew up to cradle the stinging spot.
Jinichi didn't flinch. "Use it." he said flatly. "That pain. Turn it into fuel. Again."
Tetsuya bit his lip, eyes stinging.
'Who does this guy think I am, Gojo Satoru!? Not all of us have ungodly control.'
Of course, no complaint left his mouth.
Tetsuya wasn't that dumb.
He tried again. And again. Each time nothing happened, Jinichi's palm found the same spot. never hard enough to bruise badly, let alone cause actual damage.
But the pain didn't lessen. Teaching through pain, the way the Zenin always had.
After the fifth or sixth failed attempt, Jinichi sighed, irritated.
"Keep practising until I come back and tell you to stop." he said, already turning away. "And if I come back and you're still standing there like that trash brother of mine, the next smack won't be so gentle."
He walked off without another word, footsteps heavy across the dirt, leaving Tetsuya alone in the circle, as a memory flashed in his mind.
Toji Zenin. The failure of the Zenin.
The boy stood there, small chest heaving, the back of his head throbbing. Around him, the other Zenin kept training, pretending not to notice the boy. No one offered help. No one dared, nor cared.
Tetsuya, on the other hand, was thinking of what age it was.
'Is Toji still here? Has he already left the clan? How old is Naoya right now?'
The questions sent him into a spiral once again. Because that made all the difference between him living and being a fish on Maki's chopping board.
'Befriending the twins is no good either. Mai said to destroy everything.'
Then again, Tetsuya hadn't thought that his existence might be enough to change things up.
'Is this even the canon timeline anymore? Fuck me! so many questions!'
Tetsuya clenched his tiny fists until the nails bit into his palms.
He knew the consequences of weakness in this clan. He'd read the manga. He'd seen the bodies.
And more than that. He knew what was coming. Maki. The second Toji. The girl who would tear this entire bloodline apart.
He had no intention of standing with the Zenin when that day came anyhow. But until then?
He needed strength. Real strength. Enough to survive.