The letter arrived on a Tuesday, delivered by a clan servant who looked at Kage like he might explode at any moment.
Kage Zenin,
Your presence is required at the clan estate for the autumn gathering. This is not a request.
—Naobito Zenin, Clan Head
Kage held the paper between his fingers, feeling the expensive texture, the weight of expectation pressed into expensive fibers. Two months at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and already the clan was pulling him back.
"Bad news?" Gojo asked from across the common room, pretending not to read over his shoulder with those Six Eyes.
"Clan summons."
"Ah. The joy of being born into a prestigious family." Gojo's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Let me guess—they want to show you off? Parade their 'prodigy' around to impress the elders?"
"Probably." Kage crumpled the letter. "Or they want to remind me who I belong to."
"You don't belong to anyone."
"Tell them that."
Gojo was quiet for a moment, his cursed energy signature thoughtful. "Want me to come with you? Moral support? Intimidation factor? I'm very good at both."
The offer was tempting. Bringing Satoru Gojo—the Six Eyes user, the Limitless wielder, the most powerful student at Tokyo Jujutsu High—would be a statement. A middle finger to everything the Zen'in Clan represented.
But this was something Kage needed to face alone.
"Thanks, but no. This is my mess."
"It's your family," Gojo corrected. "Which is worse than a mess. It's a inherited disaster." He stood, stretched. "But if you change your mind, I'm available for dramatic entrances and scathing commentary."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The Zen'in Estate. Saturday morning.
Nothing had changed.
The gates were still imposing, the architecture still oppressive, the cursed energy still thick with generations of violence and ambition. Kage walked through the entrance and felt five years of trauma settle back onto his shoulders like a familiar coat.
Welcome home, the estate seemed to whisper. Welcome back to hell.
"Kage-sama."
The servant's bow was perfunctory, respect given to his status rather than his person. "The clan head is waiting in the main hall. Please follow me."
Kage followed, his enhanced senses cataloguing every detail. New servants—the old ones had probably been dismissed for incompetence. The training yard to the east had fresh bloodstains. Someone was being tortured in the basement; he could hear the muffled screams through the floorboards.
Normal. All of it sickeningly normal.
The main hall was exactly as he remembered: expensive, cold, designed to make visitors feel small. Naobito sat at the head of the room, sake cup already in hand despite the early hour. Around him sat the clan elders—ancient men who measured worth in cursed technique and political utility.
And standing to the side, practically vibrating with barely contained arrogance, was Naoya.
Kage's younger cousin had grown in two months. Not much—he was still only eight years old—but enough to carry himself with the clan's signature swagger. His cursed energy was developing nicely; in a few years, he'd be formidable.
Right now, he was just annoying.
"Kage." Naobito's voice was measured, assessing. "You look well. Tokyo Jujutsu High must be treating you adequately."
"Adequately," Kage agreed, his tone neutral.
"We've heard interesting reports about your progress. Supposedly you've befriended the Gojo boy." Naobito took a drink. "That's good. Political connections matter, even for sorcerers."
"I didn't befriend him for politics."
"Then you're naive." One of the elders—Kage couldn't remember his name, didn't care to—leaned forward. "Everything is politics, boy. The sooner you learn that, the better."
"Noted."
"We've also heard," another elder interjected, "that you've developed some kind of light-based technique. An inversion of your Abyss ability. Is this true?"
Kage felt the weight of their attention, the calculation behind every question. Gojo's warning echoed in his mind: Be careful who you show this to.
"I'm still developing it. Nothing worth reporting yet."
"But it exists?"
"It exists."
The elders exchanged glances. Naobito's expression remained neutral, but his cursed energy signature intensified slightly. Interest. Hunger. The look of someone seeing a useful tool.
"We'll want a demonstration," Naobito said. "Later. First, there's the matter of your future within the clan."
"My future?"
"You're a Zenin. That comes with responsibilities." Naobito set down his cup with precise care. "You're training at Jujutsu High now, but eventually you'll graduate. When that happens, we expect you to return to the clan. Take up a position of authority. Use your strength for the family's benefit."
The words hung in the air like a noose.
"And if I refuse?"
The temperature in the room dropped.
"You won't refuse," Naobito said quietly. "Because refusing means losing the Zenin name, the clan's resources, and any protection we provide. You'd be on your own. No money, no connections, no support structure. Just another sorcerer in a world that eats the weak."
"Sounds familiar," Kage said. "I've been on my own since I was born."
"Insolent—" one of the elders started.
"He's right." Toji Fushiguro's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Everyone turned. Toji stood in the doorway, casual and dangerous, his complete absence of cursed energy making him nearly invisible to the clan's sensory techniques. He wore street clothes, carried himself like a predator, and smiled like he knew every dirty secret in the room.
"Toji," Naobito's voice was ice. "You weren't invited."
"I'm never invited. I come anyway." Toji's gaze found Kage, assessed him with professional interest. "So you're the blind kid everyone's talking about. Heard you're making waves at Jujutsu High."
"Heard you're making waves in Tokyo's underground," Kage countered.
"Guilty." Toji's grin widened. "At least I'm honest about being the clan's disappointment. You're still pretending they give a shit about you beyond your utility."
"Enough!" Naobito's cursed energy flared. "Toji, leave. Now. Before I have you removed."
"You could try." Toji's absence of cursed energy somehow felt more threatening than any technique. "But that would be embarrassing for everyone, and you hate embarrassment more than you hate me." He turned to Kage. "Kid. You want advice from someone who's been where you are?"
"I—"
"Get strong. Strong enough that they can't control you. Strong enough that the name doesn't matter." Toji's expression was serious now. "Because they'll use you up and throw you away the second you stop being useful. That's what this clan does. It's all they know how to do."
"You're a disgrace," one of the elders spat.
"I'm free," Toji corrected. "There's a difference." He nodded once to Kage, then vanished—literally, using the speed and stealth that made him legendary among curse users and sorcerers alike.
The silence he left behind was oppressive.
Naobito finished his sake in one gulp. "Ignore him. Toji's bitter because he failed to live up to the clan's standards."
"Or," Kage said carefully, "he succeeded in escaping them."
The elders erupted in protest. Naobito's expression darkened. And Naoya—who'd been silent until now—finally spoke.
"You're just like him," the eight-year-old said with all the cruelty children inherit from terrible adults. "A defective failure who thinks he's special because he can do party tricks with shadows. At least Toji-san had the excuse of no cursed energy. What's yours? Oh right—no eyes." He laughed. "The blind leading the blind. How poetic."
Kage's shadow twitched.
Every person in the room felt it—the sudden pressure, the way darkness seemed to deepen in the corners, the sensation of being watched by something vast and hungry.
"Naoya," Kage said quietly. "Would you like a demonstration of what this 'defective failure' can do?"
"I—"
Kage's shadow moved.
It wasn't aggressive. Didn't attack. Just moved—spreading across the floor like spilled ink, climbing the walls, coating the ceiling until the entire room was drowning in darkness that felt aware.
Naoya stumbled backward, cursed energy flaring defensively.
"This is what I learned in my first month at Jujutsu High," Kage explained, his voice conversational despite the oppressive darkness. "Control. Precision. The ability to manifest my technique without even thinking about it." The shadows coalesced around Naoya's feet, not binding him but making the threat clear. "Keep talking, cousin. I'd love an excuse to show you what two months of real training looks like."
"Enough." Naobito's command cut through the tension. "Kage, release your technique. Now."
Kage let the shadows recede slowly, making the point that he was choosing to comply, not being forced. The darkness pulled back like a tide, and normal light returned.
Naoya looked pale. The elders looked impressed despite themselves.
And Naobito looked calculating.
"You've grown stronger," the clan head observed. "Good. That's what we wanted. But remember, Kage—strength without discipline is just violence. And violence without purpose is chaos."
"Then it's a good thing I'm learning discipline," Kage said. "At a school that actually teaches instead of just breaking students until they either die or adapt."
"Careful, boy—"
"I'm not your boy. I'm barely your clan member." Kage stood, done with this performance. "Is there actual clan business, or was this just an intimidation tactic disguised as a gathering?"
The elders looked scandalized. Naobito, surprisingly, smiled.
"There is one more thing." He gestured toward a side door. "Your father would like to see you."
Every muscle in Kage's body tensed.
"I have nothing to say to Ogi."
"He has something to show you." Naobito's smile was sharp. "Consider it a family reunion."
The training yard. Ogi's domain.
Kage found his father exactly where he expected: in the training yard, watching two small children fail to execute a simple cursed energy reinforcement exercise.
They couldn't have been more than three years old.
Maki and Mai Zenin. His half-sisters. Born to one of Ogi's many attempts at producing a worthy heir after Kage's "failure."
"Again," Ogi commanded, his voice cold. "Your cursed energy reinforcement is pathetic. A Grade 4 curse could kill you both in seconds."
"We're trying!" Mai's voice was small, frightened.
"Trying isn't good enough. Results matter. Perfection matters." Ogi's cursed energy flared, making both girls flinch. "Again. And this time, if you fail, you don't eat dinner."
Maki's cursed energy was barely present—another Heavenly Restriction case, though not as severe as Toji's or Kage's. Mai's was stronger but unfocused, the signature of someone too young and too scared to control it properly.
They were babies being trained like weapons.
Just like Kage had been.
"That's enough," Kage said, his voice cutting across the yard.
Ogi turned, his expression unreadable. "Kage. I was told you'd arrived." He gestured to the girls. "Meet your sisters. Maki. Mai. This is your older brother."
Both girls stared at Kage with a mixture of fear and curiosity. His blindfold probably didn't help—combined with his blank expression and the shadow that moved slightly around his feet, he looked more like a curse than a brother.
"They're three years old," Kage said flatly.
"And already behind in their development," Ogi replied. "Maki has virtually no cursed energy. Mai has potential but lacks focus. I'm trying to salvage what I can."
"By starving them if they fail training exercises?"
"By teaching them that failure has consequences. Just like I taught you." Ogi's smile was cold. "Look how well you turned out. Strong, capable, feared by your peers. My methods work."
Kage looked at his sisters—at their too-thin frames, their fearful postures, the way they flinched at every sound—and saw himself five years ago. Broken. Terrified. Surviving but not living.
And he'd promised himself he'd never let anyone suffer the way he had.
"Maki, Mai," he said gently. "Go inside. Get something to eat."
"But Father said—" Mai started.
"I'm telling you to go. I'll handle Father."
They ran. Smart kids, knowing an escape route when they saw one.
Ogi watched them leave, then turned to Kage with cold fury. "You undermined me. In front of my own children."
"Your children. My sisters." Kage's shadow expanded, no longer subtle. "Who you're treating exactly the way you treated me. Expecting them to survive what would kill most adult sorcerers."
"It made you strong."
"It made me broken!" The words burst out before Kage could stop them. "You didn't train me, you tortured me! And now you're doing the same thing to them because you can't see the difference between discipline and abuse!"
"There is no difference. Not for Zenin sorcerers." Ogi's cursed energy flared to match Kage's. "We either dominate or we're dominated. There's no middle ground."
"Then I'll make one."
Kage's shadow struck.
It moved faster than thought, solidifying into a massive hand that grabbed Ogi and slammed him against the training yard wall. Not enough force to seriously injure—Kage wasn't trying to kill him—but enough to make the point crystal clear.
"You won't touch them again," Kage said quietly. "Not like that. Not with threats and starvation and the same cruelty you used on me."
Ogi struggled against the shadow binding, his face purple with rage. "You dare—"
"I dare." Kage's voice was cold, final. "Because I'm stronger than you now. Not physically, not yet. But I will be. And when I am, you'll answer for every child you broke in the name of 'training.'"
He released Ogi, who dropped to the ground gasping.
"You're weak," Ogi spat. "Letting emotions control you. Protecting the worthless. You'll never be truly strong with that mindset."
"Then I'll be weak," Kage said. "As long as I'm not you."
He turned and walked away, leaving his father kneeling in the dirt of the training yard.
Behind him, he heard Ogi's ragged breathing, felt the cursed energy signature burning with humiliation and rage.
He'd crossed a line.
Made an enemy of his own father.
But seeing his sisters—so small, so scared, so clearly heading down the same path he'd walked—he couldn't do nothing.
Even if it cost him everything.
The estate gardens. Evening.
Kage found Toji smoking by the koi pond, his presence still unnervingly absent to cursed energy senses.
"Heard you pinned your old man to a wall," Toji said without turning. "Bold move."
"Stupid move."
"Sometimes they're the same thing." Toji exhaled smoke toward the darkening sky. "You did it for the girls, right? Maki and Mai?"
"How did you—"
"I keep tabs on the clan. Hard to break old habits." Toji's smile was bitter. "They're going through the same shit we did. Different flavors, same poison."
Kage sat beside him, grateful for the neutral presence. "You watched me. When I was younger. In the training pits."
"Sometimes. When I wasn't busy being the clan's pet shame." Toji flicked ash into the pond. "Wanted to see if you'd survive. Most kids don't, you know. They break or die. But you..." He laughed quietly. "You got mean. Got smart. Started surviving out of spite instead of fear. That's when I knew you'd make it."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Don't mention it." Toji studied him with sharp eyes. "So what now? You've pissed off your father, threatened the clan's authority, and probably made yourself a target for internal politics. What's your next move?"
"Go back to Jujutsu High. Get stronger. Make sure no one can ever control me or the people I care about."
"Good answer." Toji stood, stretched. "Word of advice, from someone who walked this path before you—don't try to change the clan. You can't. It's rotten to the core, and trying to fix it will just drag you down." His expression softened slightly. "But those girls? Maki and Mai? If you can get them out someday, do it. They deserve better than this place."
"So did you."
"Yeah, well. I got out eventually. Just took longer than it should've." Toji's smile was sharp. "See you around, kid. Try not to die before you get really interesting."
He left, vanishing into the growing darkness with the same unnatural stealth that made him legendary.
Kage sat alone by the koi pond, listening to the water, feeling the estate's oppressive cursed energy press down like a physical weight.
He thought about Maki and Mai, so small and scared.
He thought about Naoya, already poisoned by clan ideology.
He thought about Ogi, broken by expectations he couldn't meet and passing that brokenness down like an inheritance.
And he thought about himself—ten years old, caught between the clan's chains and Tokyo Jujutsu High's promise of something different.
The Zenin name was a weight he'd carried since birth.
But maybe, just maybe, he could turn that weight into armor instead of chains.
Return to Tokyo Jujutsu High. Late evening.
Gojo was waiting at the gate when Kage returned.
"So. How was the family reunion from hell?"
"About as bad as expected." Kage's exhaustion was bone-deep. "Threatened my father, intimidated my cousin, and probably made myself an enemy of the entire clan leadership."
"Efficient. I'm impressed." Gojo fell into step beside him. "Seriously though, are you okay?"
"Define okay."
"Able to function without immediately imploding."
"Then yeah. I'm okay." Kage paused. "I have sisters. Half-sisters. Maki and Mai. Three years old. And Ogi's putting them through the same training that nearly killed me."
Gojo's cursed energy signature darkened. "That's—"
"Child abuse, yeah. But it's clan tradition, so it's allowed." Kage's hands clenched. "I tried to stop it. Threatened him. But I'm one person and he's still their father. I can't protect them from there."
"So we get them out."
"What?"
"We get them out," Gojo repeated, like it was obvious. "Maybe not now—they're too young, and kidnapping clan children is probably frowned upon. But eventually. When they're old enough to choose. We bring them to Jujutsu High."
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. It's necessary." Gojo's voice was uncharacteristically serious. "I grew up with the Gojo Clan's expectations crushing me every day. Six Eyes user, Limitless heir, the strongest in generations—it's all true, but it's also a cage. Being able to come here, train with people who see me as Satoru instead of the Gojo heir, that saved me." He bumped Kage's shoulder. "So yeah. We'll save your sisters too. When the time comes."
Something warm settled in Kage's chest. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. What are friends for if not elaborate clan-defying rescue operations?"
They walked back to the dorms together, and Kage found himself telling Gojo everything—about Naobito's political games, Naoya's inherited cruelty, Toji's warnings, and Ogi's abuse. Gojo listened without interrupting, his usual levity replaced by focused attention.
"You know what the worst part is?" Kage said finally. "Part of me wants them to be right. Wants to believe that their way—the strength through suffering, the domination hierarchy—is the only way to survive in jujutsu society. Because if they're right, then everything I went through had a purpose."
"But they're not right," Gojo said. "They're just scared. Scared of change, scared of irrelevance, scared of a world where power comes from something other than bloodlines and brutality." His Six Eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. "The old clans are dying, Kage. They just don't know it yet. People like us—we're the future. And the future doesn't need their chains."
"Pretty speech. Did you rehearse that?"
"No, but I'm naturally eloquent. It's one of my many gifts." Gojo's grin returned. "But I mean it. You're not defined by your clan or your past. You're defined by what you choose to do next."
They reached the dorm building. Inside, the lights were still on—Suguru probably studying, Shoko probably working on medical research, the other students settling in for the night.
Normal. Safe. Everything the Zen'in estate wasn't.
"Hey, Gojo?"
"Yeah?"
"About your clan. The expectations and the cage." Kage turned to face him. "Does it get easier? Learning to separate yourself from what they want you to be?"
Gojo was quiet for a long moment. "Sometimes. Other times it gets harder. But having people who see the real you—that helps. A lot."
"Then I guess I'm lucky."
"We both are." Gojo opened the door. "Now come on. Suguru saved us dinner, and if we don't eat it soon, he'll get philosophical about the nature of friendship and responsibility. It's very annoying when he does that."
"I heard that!" Suguru's voice echoed from inside.
"You were meant to!"
Kage followed them inside, letting the warmth and chaos of the dorm wash over him. His body ached, his mind was exhausted, and somewhere in the Zen'in estate, his sisters were probably crying themselves to sleep.
But he'd made a choice today.
Not to be the clan's weapon. Not to let suffering continue because it was tradition. Not to become the person Ogi wanted him to be.
He'd chosen defiance.
And defiance, he was learning, was its own kind of strength.
Later that night. Kage's room.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Kage lay on his futon, blindfold removed, staring at a ceiling he couldn't see and thinking about chains. How they were forged in childhood and carried into adulthood. How they could be inheritance or identity or both.
His shadow pooled on the ceiling above him, responding to his emotional turbulence.
You won't touch them again.
Had he meant it? Could he actually protect Maki and Mai from an entire clan's worth of pressure and expectation?
Probably not.
But he could try.
And trying, as Yaga kept saying, was what separated sorcerers from weapons.
A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in."
Shoko entered, carrying her medical bag and a bottle of something that was definitely not prescribed medication.
"Heard you had a rough day," she said, sitting beside his futon without asking permission. "Figured you might need this." She offered the bottle.
"I'm ten."
"And I'm a terrible influence. Your point?" When he didn't take it, she shrugged and took a drink herself. "Gojo told me about your sisters. That's... heavy."
"Yeah."
"You planning to save them?"
"Eventually. When they're old enough to want saving."
"Good answer." Shoko's hands glowed green as she scanned him for injuries without asking. "Your cursed energy is all over the place. Emotional upheaval does that. Want me to—"
"I'm fine."
"You're not. But you'll live." She pulled back, her expression thoughtful. "You know what I've learned, working in this infirmary? Everyone's broken. Every sorcerer who walks through that door is carrying trauma, loss, pain. The only difference is how we handle it."
"And how do you handle it?"
"Cigarettes, sarcasm, and pretending I don't care." Shoko's smile was sad. "Not the healthiest coping mechanisms, but they work."
"That's depressing."
"Welcome to jujutsu society." She stood, stretched. "But seriously, Kage—you did a good thing today. Standing up for your sisters. Most people wouldn't have."
"Most people aren't as stubborn as I am."
"True." She headed for the door, paused. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's training will be hell, and you'll need your energy."
"Thanks, Shoko."
"Don't mention it."
She left him alone with his thoughts and his shadows.
Kage lay in the darkness—his natural element, his inherited curse, his chosen weapon—and made a promise.
To his sisters, who couldn't hear him.
To himself, who needed to hear it.
To the void where his eyes should've been, which had taught him to see in ways others couldn't.
He would get strong.
Stronger than Ogi. Stronger than Naobito. Stronger than every Zen'in elder who measured worth in obedience and violence.
Strong enough to break chains instead of wearing them.
The Zen'in name was his burden.
But burdens, he was learning, could be weapons too.
And Kage Zenin—blind, broken, defiant—would turn that weight into strength.
One shadow at a time.