"Speaking of which, do you know if your child is a boy or a girl?"
Walking down the narrow alleyway, Kenmyo suddenly asked Fushiguro Toji.
He was asking about Fushiguro Toji's biological child, not the adopted one.
Although asking a father such a question made Kenmyo himself feel like an idiot.
What kind of father doesn't even know the gender of his own child? It's ridiculous.
But Kenmyo felt that for this irresponsible guy, it might actually be possible.
"Ah."
As expected, the question seemed to stump Fushiguro Toji immediately.
He scratched his chin, thought for a moment, and said hesitantly.
"Probably a girl."
His reasoning for this judgment was simple: the name he gave the child was Megumi, which is particularly feminine and means 'blessing' or 'grace'.
Fushiguro Toji's name is pronounced "Fushiguro Toji," and "Toji" in Japanese pronunciation has the meaning of "winter solstice." Fushiguro Megumi's birthday is the winter solstice—the blessing of "Toji."
"Seriously? You can only 'probably' know something like that?"
Kenmyo's expression truly looked like the sweating emoji right then. He couldn't understand how Fushiguro Toji, who had done business with the Zenin Family back then, managed to determine that the child possessed the Ten Shadows Technique cursed technique talent.
"He's your son, big brother."
"Sigh."
As Kenmyo stepped into the small alley and looked around, he saw old buildings with shops on the ground floor and residences above, resembling the old tenement districts of the last century.
It was unclear how much time had passed, but there were still some old-fashioned candy stores, though most of the shops on the street were closed.
The residents here were mostly elderly people or unemployed drifters without a fixed income, as the only benefit of living here was probably the cheap rent.
Finally, they stopped in front of a dilapidated two-story building. What greeted them was a concrete gray staircase, pitch black inside, where even the light fixtures above were broken.
According to the intelligence Kenmyo had gathered.
Yes, Fushiguro Toji's two children lived right here.
"To be stuck with a father like this, honestly..."
Even the route here had to be led by Kenmyo—it was unbelievable.
"Let's go up."
Kenmyo felt that any other words would be superfluous for Fushiguro Toji; it was better to let him see his children's living environment with his own eyes.
But even after Kenmyo walked past Fushiguro Toji, the guy didn't follow him.
"Boss, I..."
"Damn it, is the Heavenly Restraints Tyrant really this timid?"
Kenmyo slapped Fushiguro Toji's back and sighed.
"And why are you panicking?"
"It's a weekday, they're still at school and aren't home."
With that reassurance from his Boss, Fushiguro Toji immediately felt much more relaxed, and without needing prompting, he willingly went upstairs with Kenmyo.
The stairwell was covered everywhere with small advertisements, plastered all over the walls. There was only one household on the second floor here, so they didn't need to worry about whether it was the left or the right door.
Blocking their way were two barriers that barely functioned as security doors.
They had no key, so they couldn't get in.
"How about I climb in first and then open the door?"
Since no one was inside, Fushiguro Toji's psychological burden was greatly reduced.
He even proactively suggested climbing through the window.
"No need for such trouble."
Why did this guy always try to find a shortcut and do something sneaky?
"Did you forget? I am the head of the Kamo Family."
Kenmyo raised his hand toward Fushiguro Toji, and a key formed of blood floated and appeared on his finger.
He could perfectly match the lock based on the position of the tumblers inside, eliminating the need to climb through a window.
Kenmyo placed his hand on the doorknob, and with virtually no delay, they heard the lock tumbler click open, and the first door was unlocked.
He repeated the process for the second door, and finally, the layout of the room inside appeared before their eyes.
Kenmyo walked in first, and Fushiguro Toji followed, closing the door behind him.
A quick glance showed that the apartment seemed to be a one-bedroom, one-living room, one-bathroom unit. It wasn't large, maybe 25 to 30 square meters.
As Kenmyo walked into the room, he smelled a faint odor of mildew. The small entryway held a few pairs of tiny, dirty, heavily worn shoes, presumably belonging to Fushiguro Toji's children. The originally white walls were corroded and had turned slightly yellow.
The furnishings were very basic; a large round table in the living area occupied most of the space.
A sofa was out of the question; there were only a few wooden chairs.
The table was piled high with books, and there were still some bowls and chopsticks left over from breakfast that hadn't been cleared away. It was clear that this table served dual purposes for the siblings—studying and eating—and they must have been rushing to get to school, planning to tidy up when they returned.
On the small balcony, some laundry was hung out to dry.
The kitchen, which was probably less than two square meters, consisted simply of a small stove, and tucked into the corner was a broken little refrigerator that looked like it had been salvaged from a scrap yard.
It was only half a meter tall and had a single door.
"Thump."
This was the sound of Fushiguro Toji pulling open the refrigerator door. Unsurprisingly, there was hardly anything inside—just an opened, half-empty carton of large milk and a few small eggs.
Fushiguro Toji must have used too much force when closing it, as he yanked the refrigerator door right off its hinges.
"Tch."
Although the sound was very soft, Kenmyo still heard it: Fushiguro Toji unconsciously clicked his tongue.
Although he had mentally prepared himself for their living conditions, the reality was much worse than he had imagined, completely exceeding Fushiguro Toji's expectations.
Kenmyo was already speechless; he didn't know what to say.
They were just children, yet they didn't even have the most basic nutritional guarantee.
Judging from the leftovers, breakfast was a simple bowl of plain noodles. Forget about a fried egg; Kenmyo couldn't even see any oil, estimating that perhaps only a little salt had been added.
Honestly, he felt that these siblings lived a tougher life in terms of food and expenses than Kenmyo had in his youth—it was miserably hard, beyond description.
They were only slightly better off than the child Kenmyo had once seen on his phone who ate potatoes for all three meals.
Kenmyo was genuinely moved. He casually pulled over a chair to sit down, but the antique-looking chair immediately wobbled, as if unable to support Kenmyo's weight.
Fine, Kenmyo used Blood Manipulation to create a chair. He didn't say anything, simply keeping his gaze fixed on Fushiguro Toji, who was still looking around.
Given Fushiguro Toji's dynamic vision, he should have seen enough of this small house by now, just like Kenmyo.
What he was redundantly looking at, and what feelings he harbored, only Fushiguro Toji himself knew.
Kenmyo watched Fushiguro Toji pick up a photo frame and examine it carefully for a long time. He even saw the guy, for once, let a slight, faint smile quirk up the corner of his mouth.
Although it was only a fleeting moment, Kenmyo still saw the picture in the frame: a photograph of a woman holding two children. It seemed to be a family portrait, but Fushiguro Toji was not in the frame.
Noticing his Boss's gaze, Fushiguro Toji felt a momentary awkwardness. He cleared his throat before slowly putting the photo frame down.
Kenmyo looked at him and asked.
"I wonder, 'God of War' sir."
Considering Fushiguro Toji's combat power as a human, calling him the God of War was not wrong.
"Are you satisfied with the living environment of your children?"
Kenmyo bringing Fushiguro Toji here inexplicably replicated the feeling of those old novels where the God of War returns home, finds his children living in a dog kennel, and flies into a rage.
However, unlike those stories where the suffering was caused by others, this situation was entirely self-inflicted by this guy, who had never fulfilled even an iota of a father's responsibility.
Fushiguro Toji might have thought that by staying away, his children could lead a peaceful life, but that was far too idealistic and seemed unrealistic.
In short, Fushiguro Toji could not be redeemed in Kenmyo's eyes. Regardless of the perspective, a father should not stand idly by.
"This is simply outrageous!"
A bald old man with hardly any hair on his head, his face already scarlet from surging blood, slammed his fist onto the desk.
"It's that brat again."
This balding middle-aged man was the principal of the school attended by Fushiguro Toji's two children, and the pencil in his hand was snapped in half directly by his two fingers.
The principal's face was filled with uncontrollable rage; the root of the problem was a pair of exceptionally troublesome siblings.
Having worked for over forty years and seen nearly thirty graduating classes, he had never encountered a child like him.
Never!
"To think my school has a student like this."
Just recalling the photo his subordinate teacher sent him made his stomach hurt from anger, and his vision involuntarily went dark.
A large-scale brawl was impossible to suppress, and the thought that this was the second such incident under his watch made him frantic.
The principal, who had hoped for further advancement, felt his future was shrouded in darkness, knowing he was about to be judged by experts and bombarded by the media.
His professional career had peaked; further progress was impossible.
Realizing this, the principal felt more likely to drop dead than usual. This was the sound of his lifelong dream shattering, enough to drive a person mad.
They were a reputable school, not some place for riff-raff and delinquents.
But the image sent by the homeroom teacher was enough to make any principal let out a sharp, explosive sound.
The background was the school playground, and in the picture, a single arrogant brat sat atop a mountain made of "corpses," not moving his butt an inch, his eyes fixed intently on the photographer.
This photo might have been quite amusing to Kenmyo.
If one looked closely, that brat resembled Fushiguro Toji greatly. Especially his cold expression, the super punchable look of someone who thought everyone owed him money—he was practically carved from the same mold as Fushiguro Toji. The resemblance was uncanny.
It wasn't hard to guess that this was Fushiguro Toji's biological son, Fushiguro Megumi.
"Look at this, does this look like a student?"
The principal hit the table and spoke in a severe tone.
"He doesn't behave during school hours and engages in fighting and brawling with others."
"He must be dealt with severely."
"The school's reputation is being ruined by people like this."
In the morning meeting, the principal strongly emphasized the severity of the incident, officially classifying it as a malicious brawl.
"I propose that Fushiguro Megumi of Class 1-C be temporarily expelled."
"Furthermore, I have already contacted the instructors and staff at the Juvenile Detention Center and plan to send him there."
The school was particularly lively today.
"Megumi, why did you get into another fight?"
In the infirmary, a little girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail spoke in a chiding tone to a boy with spiky, hedgehog-like hair.
However, stimulated by the sting of the disinfectant, the boy frowned, clearly in pain, and spoke in an annoyed tone.
"Sister, I didn't start it."
But his sister's words were meaningless to the boy; he didn't want to hear them and found her annoying.
Megumi said coldly,
"They provoked me first."
This boy and girl were Fushiguro Toji's children: Fushiguro Megumi and his older sister, Tsumiki Fushiguro, both attending Urami East Elementary School.
"But you still shouldn't have beaten them up like that."
Fushiguro Megumi was truly Fushiguro Toji's offspring; his innate physical abilities and constitution possessed natural talent. Although he looked skinny due to poor nutrition, his physical fitness was no less than that of the taller, older students.
This was the reason Fushiguro Megumi was able to maintain an advantage even when facing enemies far outnumbering him and those older upperclassmen.
"Hmph."
Fushiguro Megumi refused to offer any further explanation.
He and his sister could live perfectly well on their own, without their parents' help.
"They're just scum. I'll beat them up every time I see them."
A commotion could be heard outside the infirmary door, with the principal's voice mixed in.
"Gentlemen, over here please."
Suddenly, Fushiguro Megumi frowned, sensing that people with malicious intent had arrived.
Soon, the door was slammed open, and several staff members wearing protective gear filed in.
The nearly bald principal led the way, giving Fushiguro Megumi the feeling of someone betraying their country, shouting excitedly.
The siblings' homeroom teacher was also mixed in among the crowd.
The principal looked the most agitated; as soon as he entered, he pointed at the siblings, looking excited enough to jump.
"That's him."
How could the principal not be happy? The brat who had caused him so much trouble was finally being taken away by the Juvenile Training Center staff.
"It's the spiky-haired brat."
"Please take care of him."
"Teacher, what are you doing?"
Fushiguro Megumi's older sister looked at these people with great unease and questioned her homeroom teacher.
Seeing the large group of people who suddenly appeared, Fushiguro Megumi felt a bad premonition, and he instinctively shielded his sister.
"Isn't it obvious? Your little brother is such a troublemaker."
The principal said gleefully.
He had long since reached his limit regarding these two siblings, especially the younger brother.
Although Fushiguro Megumi was young, he already exhibited delinquent behavior, fighting every few days, whether with students inside or outside the school.
"So, our school has expelled him."
"What!" (Both siblings)
Fushiguro Megumi and his sister's faces were filled with shock.
"What will happen to my brother?"
"He will be sent to a juvenile detention center."
"Don't worry, your brother will receive a better education there."
The principal was unwilling to explain further and looked toward the people beside him.
"Gentlemen, I leave it to you."
The staff from the detention center were all tall and burly, looking like strong men; arresting one little brat would be more than enough.
Although Fushiguro Megumi was a skilled fighter, that was only against his peers; he had no chance of resisting adults.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
Even though he struggled desperately, he couldn't break free.
Fushiguro Megumi's sister was already frail, and a slight shove from those men sent her tumbling to the floor.
Fushiguro Megumi, struggling like a fierce little beast the entire way, was dragged to the school gate.
The principal watched all this with indifference, inwardly cheering.
A large vehicle was waiting at the school gate, and the staff there had already opened the door, ready to toss Fushiguro Megumi inside.
"BANG!"
The vehicle at the school gate was struck by a fast-moving sedan coming from down the road, sending it flying high into the air.
The impact was tremendous.
The van rolled several times after the collision before finally stopping against a tree, billowing thick black smoke.
Before they could even register the shock, the staff felt an intense wave of pain and their vision went black.
Suddenly, a man dressed entirely in black appeared from nowhere and, with incredible speed—no one saw how he did it—swiftly knocked all those people away.
They lay motionless on the ground, the sound of horrifying bone fractures filling the area as they cried out in agony.
Fushiguro Megumi was firmly grasped by the man who had suddenly appeared.
"I'd like to see that."
The newcomer was Fushiguro Toji. He held his son in one hand and the Special Grade Cursed Tool, Playful Cloud, in the other.
The three-section staff was currently retracted and could be used as a simple club.
"CLANG!"
Fushiguro Toji slammed the staff into the cement ground, creating a massive crater.
Just by standing there, Fushiguro Toji radiated a terrifying pressure, like a fierce behemoth, making it impossible for people to breathe.
"Who was trying to take him away today?"