(No female lead. This is not a romance story.)
The Three Great Clans.
In a world where cursed energy reigns supreme and curses run rampant, the three most powerful families in the jujutsu world have stood at the pinnacle for over a thousand years.
They are the Gojo Clan, the Kamo Clan, and the Zenin Clan.
December 12, 2006.
1:00 AM.
Night.
Thick clouds, dark as ink, smothered most of the moonlight.
The luxurious estate of the Zenin Clan.
Along a corridor walked a boy of about ten years old. He wore a plain black robe, loosely open at the collar, revealing his bare upper body beneath — crisscrossed with dense scars.
His short black hair framed a youthful face that, even in its immaturity, clearly showed the makings of a strikingly handsome man — second only, perhaps, to you esteemed readers.
His deep, tranquil black eyes, along with the crimson blood staining half his robe, made him appear eerie and sinister in the stillness of the night.
Unhurriedly, the boy stopped before a wooden door. He quietly slid it open just enough to slip inside, stepping lightly onto the tatami mats before gently closing it behind him.
Coldly, he stared at the man sleeping on the floor.
Slowly, the boy formed a hand sign.
"Divine Dog — Totality."
With the boy's calm voice falling into silence, a canine shikigami hiding within his shadow burst forth. It lunged toward the target, jaws spreading wide to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth — then clamped down viciously on the man's throat.
"Ugh—! Ghk—!"
The sudden agony snapped the man awake. His face twisted grotesquely in pain.
He tried to cry out for help — but only a mouthful of blood sprayed forth.
His windpipe had already been torn open, thick blood flooding his throat.
Sensing that the target had awakened, the Divine Dog gave its head a slight shake and bit down harder.
Flesh shredded. Blood vessels ruptured. Scarlet splattered across the floor, the windowsill, the wooden frames — and onto the boy's black robe.
The Zenin estate — his own residence — had always been, in the man's mind, the safest place in the world.
And yet he would die here?
Before his final breath, his terrified gaze swept over the shikigami mauling him… and the boy standing not far away, face devoid of emotion.
The instant he recognized the boy, the fear in his eyes transformed into utter shock.
Zenin Mirai?
The disgrace publicly labeled as worthless by the Zenin Clan?
Since when could that failure use the Ten Shadows Technique?
And why had he come in the dead of night to assassinate him?
In that final moment, the man's confusion and horror eclipsed even his fear of death.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
"Ninth," the boy murmured, watching the corpse lying in a pool of blood. The corner of his lips lifted in satisfaction — then quickly flattened.
"Let's go. The next one."
At his master's command, Divine Dog released its bite and sank back into the boy's shadow.
Cursed energy spread beneath his feet. His footsteps along the corridor were soundless.
Repeating the same actions, the boy named Zenin Mirai became a small reaper of the night, harvesting the lives of clan members one silent room at a time.
"Divine Dog."
"Toad."
"Great Serpent."
A blood-red rose blooming in shadow — beautiful and deadly.
With each life extinguished, the curve of the boy's lips rose higher.
Half an hour later—
Under the faint moonlight, his black robe had been completely dyed crimson. Pale skin bore scattered streaks of blood.
He casually wiped the warmth from his face with his sleeve. His cold gaze shifted toward a distant courtyard.
"Twenty-seven. That should be about enough."
He began walking toward the room of his father — Zenin Ogi.
Thinking of the ten years he had endured, killing intent nearly solidified in his eyes.
Mirai was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, he had been lying in his room on Earth, following the latest chapters of Jujutsu Kaisen.
He saw the birth of "2.5 Gojo"—
Death.
Enraged, hammering furiously at his keyboard and cursing the author, Mirai smashed his computer in a fit of emotion… and was electrocuted.
When he opened his eyes again, he had been reborn into the world of Jujutsu.
The good news: he was born into a prestigious family — the renowned Zenin Clan.
The bad news: despite being born into the Zenin Clan, he possessed abnormally low cursed energy.
Even while still in the womb, his father — Zenin Ogi, then competing for the position of clan head — had named him "Mirai," meaning "future." He dreamed of another genius like Gojo Satoru being born, someone who would secure his own path to becoming clan head.
But when Mirai was actually born…
Ogi's disappointment was like falling from heaven into hell.
The tragedy that befell Zenin Maki in the original story arrived even earlier for Mirai.
In the world of jujutsu, an innate technique is engraved into a sorcerer's body at birth. These inherited techniques are known as "innate techniques."
Innate techniques are inborn and can be passed down through bloodlines. Thus, talent outweighs effort for jujutsu sorcerers.
Techniques engraved at birth are, in principle, impossible for others to replicate.
Typically, a sorcerer awakens and gains control of their innate technique between the ages of four and six.
But Mirai's low cursed energy at birth meant that even if he possessed a technique, awakening the powerful inherited techniques of the Zenin Clan would be nearly impossible.
Like Zenin Mai in the original story, whose awakened technique — Construction — was not the inherited Zenin technique.
"Those who are not Zenin are not sorcerers. Those who are not sorcerers are not human."
This had been the Zenin Clan's creed for a thousand years.
From the treatment Mirai and his mother received after his birth, to Ogi's swift remarriage, the cruelty behind that creed was made abundantly clear.
The clan pursued strength through sorcery. Those without sorcerer talent were stripped of all value — like Toji. Like Maki. And now, Mirai.
The wooden door slid open soundlessly.
Mirai stepped inside — then paused.
A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before killing intent surged.
Zenin Ogi stood fully dressed, cursed tool in hand.
He, too, was surprised by the visitor.
"Worthless brat. This is not a place you should be."
The rebuke came automatically — until Ogi noticed the crimson staining Mirai's robe, and the thick metallic scent in the air. His expression shifted to shock.
He had awakened because of the smell of blood.
But the identity of the intruder startled him even more.
Meeting the undisguised killing intent in his son's eyes, Ogi's surprise faded into something sharper.
"Seems you're not as useless as I thought. At least you have courage."
"Yes, Father."
At the praise, the ten-year-old boy's blood-streaked smile grew increasingly unhinged.
"This is the last time I greet you properly."
"You'd better remember it."