The Inumaki Clan Prodigy [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Isamu sighed in comfort as he nuzzled his head deeper into gods greatest creation. Well, they were at least top 3. Maki ran her surprisingly soft hands through his hair as they both rested. Maki wasn't lying when she said she'd make it worth his while if he won.

They'd just gotten out of the shower where they'd cleaned themselves up from their… bedroom sparing match. If Isamu was being honest, he almost liked cuddling after more than actual doing it. Almost.

Isamu sighed once more, counting each of his lucky stars for Maki and cursing his past self for not spending more time with her. But at least they were starting to make up for lost time.

Isamu caressed her back as he began to slowly enter the world of dreams. As he did, Maki gladly watched as his face slowly softened and his breathing slowed. Maki liked this side of Isamu more than the side he showed the rest of the world.

The soft, gentle young man. Not the fierce grade one he felt obligated to be. Maki mentally cursed the Inumaki clan for what felt like the millionth time since she'd met Isamu.

While Maki didn't know much as Isamu didn't lake talking about it, she'd heard enough to make her hate the Inumaki clan almost as much as she hated her own.

But that was behind him now. Behind them. Isamu had broken the shackles that'd kept him in the Inumaki clan. He was free know, free to be his own man. Why Isamu chose to keep the Inumaki name was beyond her.

——

Isamu walked into the abandoned and wore down old manner. Your work environment always being some abandoned place that always reeked sucked but it was one of the many things Isamu and sorcerers as a whole had to put up with.

The manner was located on the top of a large hill and was surrounded by brick walls, an Iron gate at its front and a handful of locked doors were the only ways out of the estate.

The assistant supervisor accompanying Isamu was still in the car about half way down the long driveway which started near the bottom of the hill. Meaning Isamu's ride home was a few hundred feet away and well out of harms way.

Isamu scanned the interior of the manner with trained eyes as he traveled deeper and deeper into the building. Said eyes were filled with suspicion and determination as they always were when on a mission. But behind those things was a hint of impatience.

Not born from the desire for a fight. But the desire to go home. Or go train. Or go on a different mission. It didn't really matter, as long as Maki was there.

Yes. Instead of always thinking of going on a mission or training when around Maki, Isamu now thought of Maki when on missions and training. He'd be lying if he said he didn't like the shift in their relationship either.

But now was not the time to reminisce or to be impatient. An impatient sorcerer was usually a dead sorcerer after all. Creaking was heard to Isamu's right. A sound so faint many wouldn't have picked it up and the few who did would've chocked it up to the house settling. But Isamu wasn't so untrained or naive.

He slipped a throwing knife out of band wrapped around his thigh into his left hand as his right travel upwards to meet the handle of his katana. He neared the doorway where the sound originated with careful steps.

Suddenly, a large humanoid cursed spirit burst out of the opening and lunged at Isamu, seeking to crush him in a bare hug. It was tall, maybe 8 or 9 foot. It was muscular too with a single eye in its skull. It kind looked like a cyclops but a little chubbier and with completely white skin.

Black chains hung from shackles around its legs and wrists which complemented its completely black eye quite nicely. It roared as it stomped towards Isamu at quite a fast pace.

Isamu wasted no time and quickly overcame his surprise. He flung the cursed energy infused throwing knife directly into the curses single eye.

Its hands shot up towards its face as its roar of anger transformed into a roar of pain, stopping its charge in the process. It eventually found the knife and pulled it out so its eye would begin to grow back. Isamu would not give it time to.

He dashed towards the curse's left leg as he unsheathed his sword and swung in a single, practiced motion. Isamu's blade cut right through the curses knee with ease as the silver sword was covered in the purple blood of a cursed spirit. Isamu continued past the creature, carried by his momentum which turned out to be a good thing.

The cyclops dropped to a knee as it roared again. The curse swung its left hand in Isamu direction. Its actual hand posed no threat as Isamu was out of its reach, but the dark chain attached to the shackle around the arm was.

The chain whipped in Isamu's direction, aimed directly for his skull. Isamu ducked it with ease however, causing the chain to smash apart the old wooden wall behind him. Isamu came out of his crouch with an upwards swing which cut vertically through the curses eye, blinding it once more.

Taking advantage of said blindness, Isamu quickly severed both of its arms before beheading the creature in one swift motion, is swing moving with the fluidity of water. As its body dropped to the floor while its head rolled across the rickety boards, Isamu straightened himself and looked at the blood stained blade in his hand.

His work was finally beginning to pay off. From the first day he took hold of the sword, he spent nearly every waking moment infusing it with cursed energy. As a result the once ordinary blade was strengthened and refined until it reached the grade 1 status along with its wielder.

From what Isamu could tell, the curse had been decently durable. Yet he'd cut through it with ease mostly due to his blade. But Isamu wasn't satisfied quite yet. No. He still had one more step. Then, maybe, he could make something rivaling that.

But that was for another day. The about of energy and time it took to push a grade 1 cursed tool to the special grade level was immense and Isamu would be surprised if he accomplished it in the next 5 years.

Isamu turned and walked away, glad the curse was stupid and not one of those scheming fucks that took forever to hunt down. Isamu sheathed his sword once more, not having to clean it of his enemies blood before hand due to curses disintegrating after death.

His phone rang suddenly just as he exited the slightly damp confines of the cursed environment. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, answered the call, and put the phone to his ear.

"You are summoned to the Inumaki estate immediately." A monotone, masculine voice said over the phone before hanging up immediately.

Isamu's journey towards the rusty iron doors blocking his way home came to an abrupt halt once he heard the words. Isamu stood there, his head tilted down, staring a hole into the ground as the hand holding the phone fell to hang near his hip.

After a long moment, a cracking sound could be heard as the phone used to deliver the unappreciated message shattered under the pressure of Isamu's grip. An angry look stole across his face as his eyes glazed over for a brief moment.

Isamu's hatful state was gone as soon as it came as he bottled up his emotions. His hand released his phone, now just a pile of scrap metal, as he began his walk once more, now at an increased pace.

After a few minutes, Isamu reached his ride and quickly got in.

'Inumaki estate. Now.' Isamu signed to his driver who turned back to face him as soon as he entered the car. His assistant supervisor was about to question him but as soon as he caught his eye, he knew better than to question the decision.

——

'Are you positive this is a good idea Kenji?' A woman asked through a series of hand gestures. Her wore a dark red, traditional kimono with a yellow and orange belt in the pattern of honeycomb. She was definitely in her later years but young enough to still teach the youngsters a thing or two.

The man she was signing to, the head of the Inumaki clan dressing in a simple yet elegant white robe, sighed at her questioning of his decisions before responding.

'It is time for him to come home. He is too valuable to our clan and our standing in jujutsu society to let go with no strings attached.' Kenji Inumaki responded.

'Perhaps. But going back on your word isn't a good look, especially for a clan head. His reaction will not be pleasant.' The woman, Aimi Inumaki, shot back.

'His promise to Isamu is hardly common knowledge so a bad look is of little concern. Isamu is talented but he is yet to reach a level where he can match us all.' Another man signed, flaring his cursed energy to draw their attention. This man sat across from Aimi and wore a dark, forest green kimono with a dark brown robe over it.

'Yes, all together, we would win. But it would not be without cost or injury. We would surely have to kill him and not only would that flush everything we hope to gain from this meeting down the gutter but it would also incur the wrath of the Gojo brat and we all know what would befall our clan if that were to happen.' Aimi argued with a series of furious hand gestures.

'It will not come to that. Isamu has always been a reasonable and relatively calm child. You over exaggerated his reaction.' A fourth person cut into the conversation with a clearing of his throat. Yet another man. He wore a simple grey kimono with a black belt and a sword at his waist.

'And you underestimate the lengths of his hatred for us.' The woman shot back before turning to the clan head once more. 'If we are to do this, we need to make it worth his while. We cannot rely on blood relation alone.'

'We need not do anything!' The man in green signed, obviously annoyed. 'He is an Inumaki! He needs no other reason to serve his clan!'

'Calm yourself Haruto.' The clan head interrupted. 'I have already considered the issue and I agree with Aimi. We must play this carefully or our clan will be ruined. But what we stand to gain, I believe, out weighs the high risks.'

'And what exactly is it you hope to gain?' A fourth man intruded from the corner of the room. He was young, the youngest in the room by a good bit but would still be referred to by the young boys as an old man. As he stood, he wore a bright yellow robe like the sun and leaned back against the wall.

'You should know these things if you want to take part in these meeting, Akio. I'm not sure why Kenji lets you be. You're not an elder after all.' Haruto, the old but strong, bear like man in green signed.

'I let him be because his insights are valued. To answer your question. If we manage to bring Isamu back under our banner, not only will we forge a stronger relationship with Saturo Gojo, we'll also gain a very promising young man who may grant us the strength to stand shoulder to shoulder with the big three families.' The clan leader explained.

'Getting him to join us after what you did will prove nearly impossible.' The man in yellow signed with a sad smile.

——

"A problem I'd like to address before October 31st is Isamu Inumaki." The monk said, speaking to the four special grade cursed spirits around him.

They were currently located in the outside section of a small café in Kyoto. They all sat around a round table, an umbrella spouting from the middle of the table which shielded them from the sunlight.

"Why is that? From what I saw, he is no major threat. He is above average. But nothing worth seeking out." Hanami, the nature themed cursed spirit that attacked the goodwill event, argued from the monks right, being the cursed spirit the most informed on the subject. They'd made a near full recovery, truly grateful for the regeneration ability of a curse.

"He is nothing special now, true. But he is an Inumaki. More importantly, he is an Inumaki with talent." The monk agreed before making his point.

"The Inumaki clan is a rather ancient clan but they aren't all that powerful in relation to other clans like the Gojo, Zenin, or Kamo. Not for a lack of techniques however. Cursed speech, on the surface, is an… ok technique." The master mind behind the goodwill disaster continued.

"But with enough hard work and, most importantly, talent, it can become great. Unfortunately, few Inumaki's have the drive to put in the hard work and those who do don't have the talent. Which results in a rather mediocre clan. But Isamu Inumaki has drive, talent, and something to protect." The monk said.

"So you want to nip it in the bud before he becomes a problem. Is that it?" Jogo, the volcano spirit concluded, seated to the monks left. He had also recovered fully from his encounter with Saturo Gojo, giving him and Hanami something in common.

"Precisely. And, while we're at it. We can get rid of the whole clan. They are excellent at crowd control, even the weak ones. So if they are around to help out on October 31st, our plan would be much harder to implement." The monk said with a smile before he took a moment to sip from his coffee. Mahito took advantage of the lull in conversation.

"A clan massacre?! That sounds fun, can I join?" He asked, full of boyish enthusiasm.

"No, it's a bad match up for you. Cursed speech directs the opponents will to perform an action. Not the users, the opponents. So it would be your will directed to harm you. And since your will knows mundane damage wouldn't actually harm you, your will would be forced to damage your own soul. You also don't know how to defend yourself from cursed speech." The robed man explained once he was finished with his drink for the time being, heavily discouraging Mahito from joining in.

"Yeah, hundreds of simultaneous soul attacks doesn't sound like fun. Fine, but if I'm not going, who will?" Mahito asked, a bit down in the dumps from being rejected.

"It would be best for Hanami to practice their new technique in live combat as, frankly, they have a worse handle on it than Jogo. It'd be nice if Dagon grew out of his cursed womb before October 31st as well. But, of course, it would leave the smallest room for error if Jogo went due to his strength. Ultimately, it is up to the three of you." The monk said, explaining his thought process before putting the ball in their court.

"The clan will be no more within a week."