[Author note here:]
Uh. Hey. Been a while huh? Anyways. What might I have been up to, aside from almost bricking my pc completely, you might ask?
Honestly, my interest in writing this story has taken a backseat to a different one I am writing in private. Or rather, one of many half finished and half started ones.
Interest or not, I assure you I finish stories I actually post. be it in a month or a year.
So no worries. This isn't getting dropped.
[Author note end.]
The meeting room was the same as always.
Low cushions. Incense. The weight of clan politics pressing down like gravity itself.
Naobito sat at the head of the low table, reviewing mission reports with his usual monotone voice.
The Hei listened, with the exception of one arrogant young man.
Jinichi was sitting in his usual spot, arms crossed, expression flat.
The discussion drifted, as it always did, from current missions to resource allocation or to personnel assessments.
"Speaking of current assignments." Ogi said, his tone carrying that familiar edge of contempt.
"At least Jinichi's brat is actually useful enough to handle grade one missions. I suppose the clan has another grade one sorcerer to use."
The words hung in the air.
A few heads shifted. Not much. Just enough.
Jinichi's jaw tightened as confusion bloomed in his mind.
Something cold settled in his gut. A feeling he couldn't quite place.
Then it clicked.
The mission scroll.
He had seen it two days ago, before a servant had delivered it to Tetsuya. He always checked. Every single mission his son was assigned, he reviewed it first.
It had been a Grade 2. A routine exorcism. Safe and easy for Tetsuya's current level.
But Ogi had just called it a Grade 1.
Jinichi's blood ran cold.
Someone had changed it.
His eyes swept the room. Landed on each face. Ogi. Chojuro. Nobuaki. Ranta. The elders.
None of them flinched.
None of them met his gaze for longer than a second.
"Which mission?" Jinichi's voice was low. Dangerously so.
Ogi raised an eyebrow, wondering why was Jinichi getting angry. "The Kyoto outskirts one. Grade 1 curse, warehouse location. Standard solo assignment for a capable sorcerer."
"That mission was Grade 2 when I reviewed it." Jinichi cut in, voice sharp enough to silence the room.
Silence.
Real silence. The kind that made the air feel thick.
Jinichi's scarred forehead creased, eyes sweeping the room again, slower this time.
A glare that could freeze cursed energy mid flow.
No one spoke.
Jinichi stood, the motion sudden enough to draw every eye in the room.
"Someone changed that scroll." He said, voice flat but vibrating with barely contained fury. "And I will find out who."
He turned and walked toward the door, footsteps heavy and deliberate.
He didn't bow to Naobito before leaving.
He didn't look back.
The door slid shut behind him with a sharp crack.
Behind him, in the silence he left, Naoya Zenin sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap.
Smiling.
Jinichi moved fast.
Faster than he had in years.
The corridors blurred past him as he made his way toward the estate gates, mind racing through logistics.
Distance to Kyoto outskirts. Time since Tetsuya left. How long would a Grade 1 curse take to end a twelve year old.
'Will I make it in time?'
He didn't know.
The thought made something twist in his chest that he refused to name.
He pushed harder.
By the time he arrived, it was over.
Jinichi knew before he even reached the warehouse. Or what was left of it.
The destruction was immediate and obvious. A massive trench carved through concrete and dirt, rubble scattered everywhere.
He stopped at the edge, staring.
His expression didn't change. But his eyes narrowed, taking in every detail. The radius. The depth.
Missile Fist didn't do this.
Or at least, Not like this. If it had been missle fist, there should have been a crater. not a trench.
He scanned the destruction and found him.
Tetsuya.
Slumped against a chunk of rubble near his duffel bag, unconscious. Gauze wrapped clumsily around his left arm, blood seeping through in dark spots. His face was pale, cuts scattered across his forehead and cheeks, his side wrapped tight beneath a torn haori.
Breathing. Alive.
Jinichi exhaled through his nose.
He crossed the rubble without a word, knelt beside the boy, and lifted him carefully.
Tetsuya was light. Too light. A twelve year old's body, battered and broken, hanging limp in his arms.
Jinichi adjusted his grip, made sure the boy's head rested against his shoulder, and turned back toward the road.
He didn't look at the destruction again.
The clan's medical facility was quiet at night.
Clean tatami floors. Low lighting. The faint smell of antiseptic and medicinal herbs blending into something sterile and impersonal.
Tetsuya had been unconscious for two days.
Jinichi sat in a wooden chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, staring at the white sheets covering his son's body.
Specifically, at his side.
The hospital gown was loose, but the bandaging beneath it was extensive. Layers of gauze, wrapped tight around his torso, the edges stained faintly with old blood that the doctors hadn't fully cleaned.
The doctor had been blunt about it.
"It's a miracle, Jinichi sama. If those claws had dug even slightly deeper, the damage would have been catastrophic, to say the least. more than Internal organs. Irreparable for the most part."
Jinichi had said nothing. He was too busy reigning in his anger.
The doctor continued anyway, clinical and thorough.
"His body is still developing. Reinforcement helps, but a child's frame simply cannot absorb the same level of impact as we can."
The difference wasn't just physical.
It was a gap that no amount of cursed energy could bridge. Not yet. Not for years. Especially for someone who's cursed reserves aren't at the level of a special grade.
Jinichi stared at the bandages.
His jaw was tight. The scar on his forehead seemed darker in the low light.
Jinichi had dozed off in the same chair, head tilted back, arms crossed over his chest.
Not a deep sleep. Light, alert, the kind a soldier carried even in rest.
A small sound broke through it.
A shift. The rustle of sheets.
Jinichi's eyes opened.
Tetsuya was awake.
His son's eyes were half lidded, foggy with sleep and residual pain, blinking slowly at the unfamiliar ceiling of the medical room.
Then his gaze drifted sideways.
Landed on Jinichi.
For a fraction of a second, something flickered across Jinichi's face.
Relief.
Raw, unguarded, unmistakable.
Then the mask slammed back into place.
Cold. Flat. Unreadable.
"Father?" Tetsuya's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
Jinichi held his gaze for a long moment.
Then he stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor. He turned and walked toward the door without looking back.
"Sleep." He said, voice flat.
The door slid shut.
Tetsuya stared at the closed door for a long time before closing his eyes again.
A few days passed.
No visitors for the most part. Ranta came once. His father came thrice. His only companion had been the occasional check from the medical staff, quiet and efficient.
Discharge day came quietly.
Tetsuya was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, slowly testing the movement in his left arm when the door slid open.
Jinichi stepped inside.
He looked the same as always. Cross shaped scar, sharp features, black robes. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning Tetsuya. Assessing.
Then he spoke.
"You could have dodged that attack better."
Tetsuya's hands stilled on the edge of the bed.
He looked up at his father. Studied his face for a long moment.
Then words came out, unable to be held back.
"Why do you care?"
Jinichi's expression didn't change.
"I'm your father. And real men have to be strong." Jinichi spoke, keeping that cold mask he always wore now.
"That's funny."
The words came out flat. Not angry. Not bitter.
Just tired.
"If you actually cared about being my father, you could have at least bothered to say something once. Maybe a word of praise. Anything."
Jinichi stopped.
He paused, eyes dropping to his bandaged hands.
"A present would have been nice too." He mumbled. "But what was I expecting."
He slid off the bed, grabbed his folded clothes from the side table, and walked toward the door.
Jinichi stood to the side, letting him pass.
Tetsuya didn't look at him as he left.
The door closed softly behind him.
Jinichi stood alone in the empty medical room.
The silence stretched.
His right hand twitched at his side. Extended slightly, fingers curling, as if reaching for something he couldn't quite grasp.
Then it fell back down.
He stared at the closed door, silent for a long moment.
A long moment passed.
'...Was I being too hard on him?'