The Uchiha clan's part of the village was filled with fear and silence. A few shinobi rushed through the streets, carrying wounded bodies—three people, two barely standing, and one completely unconscious. It was Izumi, bloodied and bruised, her Mangekyo eyes closed, which was good since hiding that one part was particularly important for the Uchiha clan now.
The mission to find Itachi had failed. That much was apparent, but how—it was unclear.
The worst part was that not all of them had returned. Only three came back, while five had left.
Two had died during the ambush. The bodies couldn't even be recovered. To exercise caution, those Uchiha decided not to stay behind, not even to collect their fellow Uchiha's corpses.
Little did they know that nothing of them would be left behind. Sukuna didn't immediately leave the area—he was cautious. He had hoped that the Uchiha would destroy the Root members' bodies, but they didn't. Instead, they even left their own people's corpses behind to run back to the village.
Sighing, he had to do the deed himself, breaking down their bodies and setting them on fire.
Partly because he didn't wish anyone to get their hands on these shinobi's bodies in a world where a jutsu like Impure World Reincarnation exists.
Not to mention, he killed those Root members with his own technique—that could lead back to him.
The survivors were tight-lipped about what really happened. One of them had deep cuts on his back. Another limped with a shattered leg. And Izumi—she hadn't woken up since the moment she collapsed after the fight.
It was just chakra exhaustion and the toll her body took from using her Mangekyo for the first time.
Not every 12-year-old is Itachi Uchiha, after all. Even after obtaining the Mangekyo, using that power is not for everyone at such a young age.
News spread fast. By the time they reached the Uchiha district, a large crowd of the remaining members of the Uchiha clan had gathered around.
Kiyomi heard the news while training. The moment she was told, her heart dropped.
She got the news late as it was, since hardly anyone talked to her and Sasuke nowadays. Without wasting time, she ran straight to the Uchiha compound, panic rising with every step.
She had a bad feeling in her gut—she knew something wasn't right. She had felt this from the start.
Izumi was like a sister and a teacher to her, the one who always stood strong and supported her. And now she was hurt, badly.
Which, in truth, she wasn't. Izumi had only suffered mild injuries—it was the heavy toll of the Mangekyo and chakra exhaustion that had collapsed her.
Of course, word of mouth is never good for precise intel transfer.
She pushed through the crowd, trying to get close to Izumi, but the clan members blocked her.
"You can't see her," one of the older Uchiha told her firmly.
"But I need to—she's my—" Kiyomi's voice cracked, but they didn't budge.
"She needs rest. The medic is already inside."
Kiyomi stood there helplessly, fists clenched, feeling like the ground had vanished beneath her feet.
'Damn it...' While this was none of her fault, once again she put all the blame on her own weakness.
'Yes, all because I'm weak. I can't do anything. It's because I'm not strong enough...' Her frustration with her own weakness was starting to grow.
A mixture of both Mai's and Maki's personalities blending in—seeking peace, seeking strength, yet weak as long as both existed together.
Back at the Hokage's office, Hiruzen stood by the window, watching the sun sink lower. When he received word that the Uchiha team had returned early, he felt uneasy.
'What did you do now, Danzo...' he muttered under his breath, already wondering what kind of storm was brewing in Uchiha territory.
When the ANBU report came in and confirmed only three Uchiha had returned, he sighed deeply and sat down, his eyes tired. He had known this might happen.
And yet he let it happen—he never acted himself. The matter really had nothing to do with him, however, upon not acting against what he knew his old friend would do, he too was now an accomplice in this.
So, the real question was why he let this happen in the first place. The simple answer was that it was easy. By letting Danzo do it, he himself didn't have to dirty his own hands. It was an easy way out for him.
However, it seemed that old age wasn't just catching up to him—Danzo too had become quite incompetent in his actions.
'Another failure.' He bit down on his pipe, now sure that he couldn't let Danzo handle things his way—Danzo was causing more trouble recently than he was solving.
He wasn't the only one who got the message.
Danzo stood in the shadows of his underground chamber, furious. He gripped the edge of a table so tightly that the wood cracked beneath his fingers.
All of his Root operatives had failed. None had returned. All dead. And worst of all, he had no idea how they died.
"Damn you, Uchiha..." His frustrated roar startled the few Root shinobi around him.
Danzo gritted his teeth. He had made a move—and failed again. He knew this couldn't be a coincidence. Someone was targeting him. There was no other way—it had to be.
"Find out what happened, I need all the details of this mission." Angry as he was, he still did what had to be done. He had to remain in the shadows, shake off any responsibility for what happened.
...
"Calligraphy."
Yes, you heard that right. The King of Curses wanted to improve his handwriting.
Sukuna stopped at a small shop that sold writing tools. The old man behind the counter looked at Sukuna with narrowed eyes, clearly judging his size and the grin on his face. The old man sighed, like he got an annoying kid every Tuesday wanting to be the next Hiroshi Wada.
"I need your best ink. Paper. And a beginner's guide to calligraphy," Sukuna said flatly.
"Calligraphy?" the old man muttered.
"Yes. I want to make seals," Sukuna nodded. "Only give your best stuff."
"Hmmm..."
"What was that, grandpa..."
"Ah, nothing, nothing! What you just said—calligraphy, heh... Of course, of course. Right this way."
Sukuna had a feeling the old man was looking down on him, but whatever. He just followed.
'Ah, who would have thought that these things are so darn expensive...' Sukuna looked at his significantly thinner wallet with pain-filled eyes.
However, he got the materials anyway.
Back in his room, Sukuna sat cross-legged on the floor, everything set before him. Smooth paper, fresh black ink, and a brush that was supposed to "flow like water." He dipped it carefully and began his first stroke.
It looked like a dying worm.
"What the hell is this?" Sukuna stared at the paper, fuming. His brushwork was uneven, shaky, and somehow managed to smear ink outside the lines.
He tried again.
This time, the brush slipped and drew what looked like a very angry banana.
"WHY DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A TODDLER WROTE IT!?"
He slammed the brush down. Ink splattered everywhere—on the wall, on his bed, even on his limited edition dumble he had just recently gotten.
He took a deep breath. "I'm dead if mom finds this out..."
Yup, he knew it couldn't be helped. So while he was at it, might as well go all the way through…
'In Ryomen's memories… he didn't even bother with this crap. Lazy bastard,' Sukuna muttered. Though he knew why Ryomen Sukuna didn't.
Talisman-making wasn't that strong of an art. Talismans from JJK are very similar to seals and Fuinjutsu in Naruto.
Right now Sukuna had no way to get his hands on proper sealing knowledge—unless he resorted to means which could only be called unnatural...
He didn't wish to, though. He just wanted to learn the basics for now; his main focus even now was his Curse Technique.
No need to break into the Hokage's office to steal some highly classified documents just yet.
That's when he remembered talismans existed in JJK, and he could start with them.
As for how similar they were to seals, well—he'd only know once he learned them, wouldn't he?
So he started. Ryomen Sukuna was no master talisman creator... by any means.
Still, the basic ideas were there in his memories—talisman creation, flow of cursed energy through symbols, the structure of sealing arrays.
But none of that mattered if his handwriting looked like a drunken chicken had a seizure on the paper.
He tried once more, this time putting real effort into it.
Nope. It now looked like Zoro's lifetime travel route—the lines were changing directions faster than Zoro hops dimensions.
Sukuna slumped forward, face hitting the table. "I think this gonna take some time..."
xxx
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