The great chandeliers of the Momobami hall glittered as servants opened the doors. A long banquet table stretched under the light, heavy with international dishes and wine meant to showcase the clan's wealth. Representatives of every branch were seated.
The excitement, however, was not over food but over the towering figure walking in with his tail swaying behind him.
Haruko.
He smiled faintly, hands behind his back. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the shuffle of chairs as the hosts turned toward their returning "demon kid."
The introductions played out formally, each family re-presenting its heir. But Haruko remembered their faces. These were the same seven who had once mocked him as a child, who had been beaten bloody by his fists in the courtyard years ago.
They were taller now. Some looked stronger. Every one of them bore marks of awakened bloodlines — faint unique auras around their bodies.
But when Haruko subtly engaged his Saiyan ki sense, he was unimpressed. The signatures were there, pulsing faintly… but none were worth his worry. Not compared to what he had fought and seen in the Bloodline Pool worlds.
The party began. Laughter, polite speeches, glasses raised. Food was served.
Platters of polished seafood, roasted game, imported beef.
Haruko sat still, eyes roaming, before finally reaching for a plate and taking a bite. The taste was disappointing — delicate spices perhaps, but far from the rich vitality of sea beasts or Saiyan-world hunts.
He set down the fork. His tail twitched once behind him. This food wouldn't fill even a ki spark, he thought. His stomach growled audibly, startling one of the younger heirs beside him.
One by one, the heirs stepped up to greet him. Some offered stiff handshakes, their palms sweating in fear despite their smiles. Others trembled outright, unable to hide shaking knees under his shadow.
One young woman, face warm with blush, looked up at him with eyes that lingered longer than protocol required. When she realized he was watching, she quickly looked away, cheeks growing redder.
It was as he moved down the line that trouble came.
From the Komabami oil dynasty, the young master approached. His bloodline awakened into the form of a serpentine hypnotism technique — the power to influence minds with focused ocular patterns.
Haruko had dealt with bloodline hypnotism before — with his own vampire heritage. He recognized the faint shimmer in the man's eyes the moment he tried.
"Look at me," the Komabami heir intoned softly. "You will—"
He never finished.
Haruko's massive hand closed around his collar, lifting him off his feet. His back slammed into the nearest wall with a thunderous crack, leaving hairline fractures in the wood paneling.
Gasps rose around the banquet hall. Some froze. Some smirked. A few paled, remembering the nickname from years ago: "the demon kid."
"Pathetic," Haruko said flatly, staring into the young man's widening eyes. "If you use tricks like that on me, be ready to pay."
The silence that followed was broken by the sudden buzz of Haruko's private comm-link. He glanced, and the ID shocked him enough to loosen his grip.
Grandma Selina.
He tapped to receive. Her voice came firm.
"Haruko, I need you to listen. Your second grandfather, Yuuichiro… he's not on his island."
Haruko's eyes narrowed. Around him, the party murmured, but in his mind the words echoed.
If Yuuichiro wasn't on the island, that meant only one thing: he was moving through the worlds.
The night had only just begun.
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