While the heavens of Mutsu wept a crimson rain, the night in the capital of Heian-kyo was steeped in the cloying fragrance of plum blossoms and the heavy, drifting smoke of the finest agarwood.
Deep within the detached villa of the Sugawara main estate.
Upon the pristine tatami mats, Sugawara no Enju, the heir to the clan, sat with his head buried in his hands, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
"Ugh... hah, hah..."
The luxurious silk of his sleeves crumpled beneath the violent strength of his grip. Crimson blood trickled from Enju’s eyes, tracing lines down his pallid cheeks before dripping onto the tatami with rhythmic, sickening thuds.
'The Limitless Cursed Technique.'
It was the sovereign power of the Sugawara bloodline, the authority to govern space itself. Yet, this overwhelming technique demanded a level of operational precision and infinitesimal cursed energy manipulation that defied human limits.
By all rights, this technique was meant to be wielded only by one born with the 'Six Eyes'—the ocular miracle capable of controlling cursed energy at an atomic level, reducing its consumption to effectively zero.
But by some cruel twist of fate or perhaps a curse itself, the Six Eyes had manifested in Utsugi, a mere branch-family pariah, while the Limitless was bestowed upon Enju, the legitimate heir.
"Young Lord Enju, are you well?"
The trembling voice of an aged attendant echoed from behind the sliding shoji doors.
Enju gritted his teeth, roughly wiping the blood from his eyes with his sleeve.
"...Enter," he commanded, forcing his voice into a semblance of composure.
The doors slid open, and one of the Sugawara Clan's high elders stepped inside, accompanied by a servant. Even upon seeing the bloodstains marring the tatami, the Elder’s expression remained unchanged, save for a microscopic narrowing of his eyes.
"Have you forced the technique's activation once more? The clan has strictly forbidden you from such reckless exertion."
"A future Clan Head cannot afford to be negligent in his training," Enju retorted icily.
"The prestige of our house is not maintained by martial prowess alone. As the Northern Fujiwara's struggle for power intensifies by the day, your imperial legitimacy—and the clan’s survival—would crumble should your physical vessel fail."
The word 'legitimacy' caused Enju’s eyelid to twitch.
Legitimacy. That shallow logic of bloodlines.
Enju closed his eyes. As his vision went dark, the agonizing memory of a humiliating defeat in the training hall months ago seared through his mind once more.
A duel against Utsugi, the heretical branch-son.
Enju had pushed the output of the Limitless to its absolute breaking point, even as his brain felt like it was being incinerated. Yet Utsugi, with those Six Eyes, had read every single vector of cursed energy, neutralizing Enju with nothing more than overwhelming taijutsu. It was a defeat as perfect as it was wretched.
'I hold the legitimacy, yet the Six Eyes required to master the Limitless are embedded in that bastard’s skull. Is this the legitimacy you speak of?'
Though he sneered inwardly with a bitterness that felt like spitting blood, Enju suppressed his emotions and spoke.
"...What has become of him? Utsugi. It has been several days since he was dispatched to the Ou Mountains."
A cunning, satisfied wrinkle appeared at the corner of the Elder’s mouth.
"Ah, the branchling. I have just received word from a shikigami planted in Mutsu. The boy has stepped beyond the Torii gate—into the very heart of the Ou Mountains."
Enju’s eyes snapped open.
"A demon’s den where the Special Grade’s miasma is at its thickest," the Elder whispered low, his fingers tracing the rim of a teacup.
"The Special Grade coiled there is no ordinary curse. It is a collective Vengeful Spirit—the manifestation of a battlefield itself, woven from the resentment of the Emishi and the shards of broken steel. Even the Northern Fujiwara abandoned all attempts to reclaim that land."
"I have heard rumors... that it possesses a Domain," Enju said, his fists involuntarily clenching.
A Special Grade with a Domain Expansion. That was more than a calamity; it was a natural disaster. To challenge such a thing usually required the elite subjugation squads of Heian-kyo, yet Utsugi had gone in alone?
"Elder," Enju’s voice trembled slightly. "That is not a subjugation task for someone under house arrest in exile. That is...!"
"A death sentence," the Elder finished drily, cutting him off.
His face remained cruelly serene.
"Despite bearing Sugawara blood, he dared to point his blade at you, the heir, and defile our martial traditions. No matter if he was born with the Six Eyes, an uncontrollable hound will eventually bite its master. Even now, Lord Tokisada Fujiwara covets him. For the future of the Sugawara, it is better that he dies in the belly of a beast, leaving not even a bone behind."
"......"
Enju inhaled sharply.
The clan elders never intended for the Special Grade to be exorcised. They were borrowing the hand of a cataclysm to legally dispose of the 'uncontrollable Six Eyes' that was a thorn in their side.
"Within a Special Grade’s Domain, no man can survive alone without reinforcements. By tomorrow morning, that branchling’s Six Eyes will be digested in the gut of a Mutsu beast, vanished without a trace."
The Elder rose and bowed with polite finality.
"Therefore, Milord, cast aside these idle thoughts and focus solely on inheriting the Sugawara legacy. I shall take my leave."
The shoji door clicked shut, leaving only the cloying scent of agarwood behind.
"D-Damn it...!"
The moment the Elder was gone, Enju slammed his fist into the tatami.
THUD! THUD!
The mats tore, and blood welled on his knuckles, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation searing his heart.
'Sickening... these rotting old fossils.'
Enju hated Utsugi.
He envied—and loathed—the overwhelming talent that allowed Utsugi to achieve the precision of cursed energy he himself could not reach in a lifetime of bloody training. There were countless times he wanted to pluck those arrogant blue eyes from Utsugi's head for the way they looked down on him like filth.
But Enju, at the very least, stared reality in the face.
Heian-kyo was currently in an unprecedented golden age of jujutsu. The heirs of the Zenin and Kamo clans were blossoming into monsters, and rumors of the calamity known as Ryomen Sukuna were beginning to ripple through the peasantry.
Above all, Tokisada Fujiwara, the true power behind the Fujiwara Clan, was baring his teeth to monopolize the jujutsu world using his Sun, Moon, and Stars Squad.
'With my Limitless... I cannot stop those beasts.'
A half-baked sorcerer who risked burning his own brain every time he fought—that was the limit of Sugawara no Enju.
Ironically, only Utsugi, whom he so detested, possessed the 'absolute strength' required to keep the Sugawara Clan standing in these turbulent times.
'Utsugi, if you die here... the Sugawara are finished. This is not a world where the petty political games of elders can hold the line!'
Enju pressed his bloody palm to his forehead and laughed hollowly.
To be an heir who must desperately pray for the survival of the enemy who trampled him like an insect—was there ever a more pathetic tragedy?
"...Survive, Utsugi."
Facing the northern skies of Mutsu where the rain fell, Enju whispered.
"Whether it be a Domain or a Special Grade, tear it apart and come back alive."
A prayer like a curse, born from a volatile mixture of jealousy, inferiority, and a blind sense of duty to his clan, drifted heavily into the night air of Heian-kyo.
At that same moment.
Indifferent to Enju’s desperation, the heart of the Ou Mountains in far-off Mutsu was on the verge of becoming a literal hellscape.
Into the center of that abyss where the Special Grade’s Domain gaped open like a waiting maw, two heretics walked steadily forward.
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