The Inumaki Clan Prodigy [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Isamu watched the fields of Japans countryside past by, his elbow propped up on the edge of the window, his chin resting on his palm.

His sword rested to his side, no longer starpped to his waist. It leaned on the seat, the butt of the scabbard near his feat. Its white warped handle often reminding him of the untouched snow which the Inumaki clan estate saw often in the winter months.

The tinted window separating the front and back seats was up, blocking the drivers view of Isamu. Despite being alone with no one observing him, Isamu kept a calm façade. Façade being the perfect description.

Underneath, Isamu was beyond nervous with no small amount of anger tinting his emotions. He kept a presentable outward appearance however. He felt that, perhaps, if his mask broke now, he'd be unable to regain it once they arrived.

Contrary to the rest of his body, his left leg bounced ever so slightly, giving away his internal turmoil to any half decent observer. His eyes held no such observation at that moment however, so the tick continued.

This lack of focus on the outside world was all due to Isamu's focus on his memories. No matter his feelings on the matter, Isamu could not help himself. He couldn't stop himself from reminiscing on the past. On his childhood.

——

Isamu collapsed onto the snow covered ground, exhausted beyond words. His hands blistered and sore, his legs weak and wobbly, his entire body screaming at him to stop. To take a break. A break he would not be afforded.

A loud, almost unnaturally so, clap rang throughout the small practice yard of the Inumaki clans main residence. Its traditional Japanese architecture reminded Isamu of the castles he'd see samurai protect in the handful of movies he was privy to.

Isamu forced his head up, his eyes drawn to the source of the noise. His instructor stood about 10 feet away from Isamu's downed position with a less than patient look on his face. Once he was sure Isamu's attention was on him, he made a "come at me" gesture like one might see in a movie.

Knowing Haruto, the instructor of nearly every sorcerer from the Inumaki clan, wasn't known for his benevolence, Isamu rose as quickly as he could manage. Ignoring the pain, Isamu soon found himself on his feet again.

Haruto took up a fighting stance, his right hand formed into a fist in front of himself while his left hand stayed open and further back. Isamu was all too familiar with the stance and took it up himself. His was decidedly less put together than his opponents however.

Haruto wasted no time and quickly became the vicious bear many described his warrior self to be. A term Isamu didn't understand. Why separate him and the warrior he was on the battlefield when they were basically the same person?

Within a minute, Isamu ended up on the cold stone once more before once more being command to stand. It was brutal as hell, but Isamu would say the pros out weighed the cons.

——

Isamu scratched his chin as he thought back on the memory. Haruto was the best martial artist in the clan and was no doubt top 5 when it came to jujutsu society as a whole. Isamu would be lying if he said he didn't gain anything from the training, but it was also a lie to say he would've preferred that to lazing around.

Not that Isamu knew what lazing around felt like at the time. Many, seemingly impossible to meet, expectations were placed on him as a child. He was talented from the start, showing unmatched potential, growing faster than any Inumaki that'd proceeded him.

He went from being a nobody orphan at the bottom rung of the clan to being named the heir of the clan head. He'd felt kinda bad when that happened, seeing the face of the first born son of the head, not even 10 years of age, turn from joy to confusion to sadness to hate all in the span of 10 seconds never left a good taste in his mouth.

But he didn't mind it much, at the time at least. He was the new heir after all. The raising star of the Inumaki clan! The one who'd lead them to power and influence.

Isamu felt a pang of embarrassment run through him as he recalled how much of a spoiled brat he was back then. Not that many would blame him.

Having the entire clan wait on you, hand and foot, was a heady feeling for sure. Every soldier ready to protect you, the clan head singing, well, signing your praises at every meeting. It was all nice, and well deserved as he thought at the time.

He was unstoppable. Sure, he wasn't the strongest yet, he wasn't done growing yet either. The elders and instructors, stronger than him as they may be, were not more talented than him. They just had a head start. That was all.

But of course, as kids often were, he was mistaken.

——

A tall man dressed in a dark blue kimono staked through the deserted halls of the Junior high school. A small child, no older than 8 years patted behind him. His stealth could use some work for sure but it was pretty good for his age.

Isamu followed his grade 2 senior closely but not too closely, not wanting to get in the way should they be set upon by their target. Said target being the grade 2 cursed spirit assigned to his senior which the clan had deemed weak enough to send Isamu after as well.

Any good sorcerer needed battle experience after all.

——

The mission hadn't gone as planed. It turns out, instead of a grade 2 cursed spirit, it was a special grade. Normally, mistakes in grading that extreme would never happen. But this particular curse possessed an illusionary cursed technique which it used to trick jujutsu society.

It was only due to the curse having little offense ability and his upperclassman sacrificing his life to save him that Isamu had made it out.

Upon returning to the clan, they were disappointed. Of course, expecting a kid to take down a special grade was a ludicrous idea but Isamu theorized that it'd disillusioned them.

The Gojo brat exorcised his first special grade at the age of 6 after all. This incident simply proved that no matter how talented Isamu was, the Inumaki clan would never be number one. They would always be at the mercy of the Gojo clan.

Isamu had to admit that, for a good few years, he hated Gojo. Mostly out of envy, Isamu had never met him as a kid after all. It was childish anger that Isamu had long forgotten.

After that, the Inumaki clan had started to treat him worse. Still well mind you, he was still a prodigy after all. But not as good as before, not as good as when they believe him to be the next Saturo Gojo.

Isamu's instructors pushed him harder, his surrogate father, the clan head, treated him less like a son. He was still officially the clan heir, but that position was much shakier than it had been. The head was starting to reconsider abandoning the bloodline of heads just to be number 2.

The first born jumped at the chance to both reticule Isamu, his would be replacement, and push his father to switch heirs once more. Isamu didn't mind the bulling much as it was infrequent due to Isamu's schedule being packed with train.

But the pushing of the clan head had bothered him. It'd pushed him to be better. To strive for greater and greater highs. And he was doing well for a time. He was getting somewhere once more. He'd even beat Haruto once, only once.

After many years, he'd finally found an opportunity.

——

Isamu stood in the middle of a group of three fighters dressed in white robes. Now 12 years of age, Isamu had grown much more competent in the ways of fighting with fists and feet.

But in that moment, with Haruto and even the clan head watching on as the three skilled men approached him, he'd succeeded.

This was his chance, his chance to prove them wrong. To prove he could be great. To prove he could be number 1. To prove to them all that he could be useful.

He'd pushed himself the days, the weeks before. Pushing his muscles to their limits and then some. Studying battle tactics, only eating the best of foods. All for this moment.

His heart thrummed with joy and confidence as he caught a glance of Haruto's proud smile and the heads approving look. He'd taken two out and made quick work of the third skilled but ultimately not good enough soldier.

——

After that day, the clan head started to treat him better, like a father once more. Isamu was a sucker for it, how foolish he had been. He couldn't bring himself to blame his past self. He was just another fatherless child, clinging to anyone who'd give him any comfort or affection.

The clan head was that man. He'd taken him in, raised him to be the best. Granted, they had their ups and downs. But now that Isamu had proven himself once more, everything could go back to normal.

He could go back to training with Haruto, getting a pat on the back and a begrudged but ultimately prideful smile from the bear before he'd rush off to see the clan head.

He'd get to taste the fantastic food again, be praised by all the pretty woman from the sidelines as he spared with his peers, proving himself their better for the hundredth time.

That was exactly what happened too. For a good while, about a year, he'd fought, read, and ate. Pushing himself, never letting himself stagnate or stop. He never wanted to go back to that time. The next time he was faced with insurmountable odds, he'd overcome them. It was only to be expected of the prodigy and future head of the Inumaki clan.

Until he met a woman. Or rather, a girl.

——

Isamu had just finished his training session with Haruto. Normally he'd go see the clan head but he was in a meeting at the moment so Isamu decided to go for a walk. It was spring and he could use some fresh air after the long winter. It was always nice to get the passing giggle from a girl or a wave from a pretty lady during his strolls too.

He'd walked for a while, admiring the beautiful estate of the Inumaki clan. He winked at the girls and waved towards the boys, promising them to "catch them later" which he rarely did. That was until he heard a commotion.

Rushing to see what it was, more curious than concerned, Isamu rounded a corner to find two young boys picking on a girl around his age. Yelling towards them to stop, they both sprinted away at full speed once they'd realized they'd been caught.

Going over to check on the girl, Isamu found a beauty. Despite the roughed up face, the jagged scar which ran down her face from some past injury, and the blond hair which was uncharacteristic for the Inumaki clan, Isamu saw the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"T-thank you…" she said. Her voice too. Her voice was just as beautiful.

——

Her name was Hoshi. Quite the fitting name if Isamu said so himself. 'Star' it meant. And what a little star she was. She was beautiful, even now he thought so.

Isamu looked past the scar and the odd colored hair. All he saw was a nice, caring girl. She was a bit stand offish, obviously the loner sort. But Isamu was persistent.

After he'd broken her shell and got her to open up, they became very good friends. They laughed and giggled like kids. They fought playfully over food and talked like a kid Isamu's age should've talked.

She was his break. When Isamu felt overwhelmed by expectation, he ran off to be with Hoshi. His training suffered, opting to mess around with Hoshi rather than train some more in his free time.

But Isamu didn't mind. For the first time in his life, he felt like a regular kid. Not some fancy heir or the future of the clan who'd lead them to greatness, but just a kid.

Not that he didn't like being those things, but they were a lot at times. Well, at most times. But one day, his lack of proper training caught up with him.

In a memory too embarrassing for Isamu to even want to remember properly, he'd failed. Not just in front of Haruto or the head. No, he'd failed in front of the entire clan. In a training exercise, Isamu was meant to take on 10 other sorcerers in front of a large portion of the clan in order to showcase the strength and prowess of their future clan head.

He'd failed, spectacularly. He'd taken out three, to his credit. But he was overwhelmed and defeated by the remaining 7. It was crazy that someone would be disappointed that a 13 year old couldn't take down 10 grown men, but such were the expectations of the Inumaki clan.

After that, the head and Haruto dug deep, determined to find the cause. As if there was no cause, the only explanation would be that Isamu was just not talented enough. Something they refused to accept until it was the only explanation.

Due to Isamu's ignorance, it was as simple as the head asking if Isamu had made any friends. Which Isamu was all too happy to tell him about. About his little crush on his little star.

After that, it wasn't hard to predict what would happen. It was an accident. Simple as that. A life could be taken at anytime after all.

Some spilled water. A neglectful worker. A push down some stairs. And boom, a girl was dead.

——

Isamu sat on the edge of his bed. His elbows resting on his knees, his hands on either side of his head. He stared with dead eyes into the floor boards of his room, his eyes red and puffy from crying for the last few hours.

Isamu wasn't good at handling loss. He hadn't lost much in his life. His father died before he was born. His mother dead shortly after his birth. This was the first person he'd lost, and he wasn't handling well. Not at all.

Imagines of her smile, her face, her scar all flashed through his mind. Memories of her laugh and giggle running through his head. His knee bouncing uncontrollably in a nervous tick. His teeth grinding together.

It wasn't a happy sight. After that, Isamu had thrown himself into his training. Two fold what he had before. For a good while, he was exactly who the Inumaki wanted him to be. Who they expected him to be.

Finally, he was useful to them. Like he always wanted to be. But he didn't feel any of the joy he always imagined that accomplishment would come with. No, all he felt was pain and loss. His body was welll past its breaking point and his eyes sore from crying so much.

He was empty. But he didn't let it show. He was meant to be perfect. He was the prodigy of the Inumaki clan. He was meant to be the strongest, number 1. Not some emotional, depressed teenager.

But that mask that he'd kept on for so long broke when he found out the truth.

——

Isamu walked into the office of the clan head on measured steps, his footsteps silent as a moonless night. He neared the desk alone, no one else in the room.

He rounded the mahogany construction and opened its drawer. He searched through it, seeking the papers the head had requested him retrieve. He found them eventually, but he also found a note, a letter rather.

Unable to restrain his curiosity, he unfolded the letter and read it.

'For your services.

K.'

Simple and straight to the point. Not addressed to anyone either. It was a slightly suspicious letter but nothing to really do anything about. But Isamu got a gut feeling for some reason, and heeding Haruto's words to always trust your gut, Isamu infused a small portion of cursed energy into it.

An amount so faint no one but himself could detect it. It was a good enough tracker.

——

After a day, the letter moved from within the office and Isamu followed. He followed it to a black car, one an assistant supervisor might use but decidedly different. Hoping in the trunk, Isamu traveled with it.

It parked after an hour ride, Isamu waited a minute before cracking the trunk door open a tiny bit, using his cursed energy infused strength to break the lock on the trunk which kept it shut when driving.

He found a country side home. It was sort of a wreak and Isamu figured I was a meeting spot more than a house someone actually lived in. Getting up and walking stealthily towards the house, Isamu snuck in.

He heard the muttering of words coming from the living room and carefully hugged the wall and neared the corner to get a better listen.

"The clan head sends his regards. We apologize for the late payment, we've been rather busy. We've given you double what you were owed to make up for it. And to make sure you keep your mouth shut." A man in a black suit said as he handed the note, now incased in an envelope, which Isamu infused to another man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans.

"Yeah, I got it. I don't plan on going around bragging about killing a little girl anyway." The other man said.

Isamu was already ticked off and interested at the mention of the clan head, no doubt the Inumaki clan head. His adoptive father. But at the mention of a little girl, Isamu's curiosity and mild frustration turned to immense anger to put it lightly.

Within a second, the man who'd handed the payment over was dead, a small pocket knife Isamu carried with him at all times, at the behest of Haruto insisting he was always armed, lounged in his neck.

"Break." Isamu spoke. The legs of the other man bent backwards at the knees in an unnatural way, snapping as the bones they were made of shot out the back of his legs.

Isamu darted towards the now screaming prone man, his freshly bloodied knife in hand. Isamu pinned him to the ground, his knee on his chest and the knife to his throat, drawing a small drop of blood from his neck right where his jugular was located.

"The girl. Who?" Isamu spoke, uncaring of what consequences may arise from speaking freely.

The man must've seen something truly terrifying, or he was just a coward, for his lips were not as tightly sealed as he was claiming just moments before.

"I don't know much man! She was blond. Scar over her face. From her right ear to the middle of her chin." The man said, full of fright and no small amount of cowardice.

Not giving him another second to speak or beg, Isamu tossed away his knife, wrapped both of his hands around his throat, and squeezed. He refused to break eye contact with the man as he strangled the life out of him.

Even after the man had drawn his last breath, his face purple and his eyes bulging, Isamu didn't lighten his grip for a solid minute. After he did, he just stared at the body with an empty gaze.

——

Isamu's eyes snapped open as he awoke from his nightmare. It seemed he'd fallen asleep. He let out a heavy breath before inhaling quickly. Not wanting to lose his composure now that he was so close, he put on his mask once more.

The same mask he'd worn immediately after Hoshi's death. The same mask that'd become his second face after he'd avenge his star and abandoned the clan, not bothering to go back to the clan. The mask he'd worn when he met Kusakabe who'd taken him off the streets.

The mask that was present when he met Yaga. The same one that Toga, panda, Gojo, and even Maki first met. The mask that'd slowly began to slip during the past year, as his relationships grew. Both with his friends in panda and Toga, and in his romantic relationship with Maki.

The same mask that'd been thrown right back on his face with a simple phone call. The same mask that now covered the simmering rage and, oddly, the mixed gratitude.

Isamu looked out the window to find a setting sun. Maybe a hour or two away from twilight. The Inumaki clan was rather far from Tokyo after all. And after ten more minutes of his many emotions stirring in his gut, Isamu finally arrived.