Transmigrated As Satoru's Father

Seijuro stepped out of the sleek black limousine, its polished exterior gleaming under the dappled sunlight filtering through the forest canopy. The vehicle was an obvious display of wealth and status, something he still wasn't entirely comfortable with.

"I swear, I'm not used to these luxuries..." he muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes scanning the forest path ahead.

In his previous life as David, luxuries like this were an alien concept. He had been middle-class, living a life defined by careful budgeting and simple comforts. His car, a beat-up sedan that groaned with age, was far from the stretch limo he'd just stepped out of.

Back then, extravagance had been something he'd only seen in movies or envied from a distance. Meals were often home-cooked or fast food, not the gourmet spreads he now had access to daily. Being chauffeured in such style would have been laughable—unattainable.

And yet, here he was, the head of the Gojo clan, surrounded by wealth that could only be described as obscene. The stark contrast between his two lives left him feeling like a stranger in his skin.

The driver, a man in a tailored black suit, stepped out of the car and adjusted his tie before addressing Seijuro.

"Mister Gojo, just follow this path," he said, gesturing toward a dirt trail ahead. "It will lead you to the headquarters of the higher-ups."

Seijuro turned his gaze to the dirt path, his expression shifting from mild amusement to intrigue. The trail was unassuming—a narrow, worn strip of earth winding deeper into the forest. The surroundings were wild and overgrown, the kind of place that exuded secrecy and caution.

"I see," Seijuro replied. "Thank you. Wait for me here."

The driver nodded curtly, stepping back into his role of silent observer. Seijuro adjusted his robes and began walking down the path, his footsteps crunching softly against the dirt.

The simplicity of the trail made sense to him. For a group like the jujutsu higher-ups, secrecy was paramount. They couldn't afford to advertise their location with a grand road or lavish entrance. Instead, their choice of a rough, unadorned path reflected their desire to remain hidden from prying eyes. 

It was practical, useful, and completely in line with their shadowy nature.

As he walked deeper into the forest, the air grew cooler, and the dense canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight. The path was lined with tall, ancient trees whose roots occasionally jutted out, creating uneven ground. Seijuro's mind wandered as he moved forward.

"A dirt path for secretive meetings... makes sense. But seriously, a limo ride to this?" 

The absurdity of mixing such extravagance with such practicality wasn't lost on him. It was just another reminder of the strange balancing act he was living as the head of one of the most powerful clans in the jujutsu world.

"Well, at least the walk gives me time to think."

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"So, this is the place..." Seijuro muttered as he stepped out of the forest and into a small clearing. 

Before him stood a simple Japanese-style house, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. The structure was modest, almost unassuming, save for one strange detail: no windows gave the entire building an eerie, enclosed appearance.

The lack of windows and the dense trees surrounding it gave the house an oppressive atmosphere as if the building was swallowing light and air.

"Huh," Seijuro mused, narrowing his eyes. "No wonder the place is depicted to have a dark feeling to it..."

He slid the door open, the wood creaking faintly under his touch. The interior was pitch black, save for a single light source in the center of the room. A circular paper lantern hung low, casting a pale glow over the polished floorboards.

Encircling the light were shoji doors, each one concealing the silhouettes of those seated behind them. The faint outlines of bodies could be seen through the rice paper, their forms still and imposing. The room radiated tension like the walls pressed inward, heavy with unspoken authority.

Seijuro stepped inside, the soft sound of his sandals breaking the silence. He felt their eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move, though none of them were visible. The light cast his shadow long and thin against the floor as he moved closer to the center of the room.

"Seijuro Gojo," a voice called out from one of the shoji doors, low and deliberate. "You have finally arrived."

Seijuro stopped in his tracks, his crimson eyes flicking toward the source of the voice. It was deep and commanding, carrying the weight of years spent in control. He folded his arms loosely, his expression calm but alert.

"Yes," Seijuro replied smoothly, his tone measured. "I came as requested. Now, let's not waste time—what's this meeting about?"

The silhouettes shifted slightly, the soft rustling of fabric the only response.

Seijuro walked confidently toward the center of the room, stepping into the circle of light. The pale glow illuminated his figure while the higher-ups remained obscured behind their shoji doors. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with the weight of authority and disapproval.

"Gojo," one of the voices began, stern and biting, "you fought with Toji Zenin and then spared him. Why?"

Seijuro stopped, folding his arms casually as he looked toward the silhouette of the speaker. "It's simple," he said, his tone calm but firm. "I hired him as a bodyguard for the Gojo clan."

The room erupted into disbelief and outrage, their silhouettes shifting restlessly behind the shoji screens.

"Unacceptable!" a voice snapped. "Do you not realize what you've done?!"

"Toji Zenin is a menace to the jujutsu world!" another added. "He has killed countless high-profile sorcerers in cold blood!"

"Exactly! He's a rogue! A criminal!"

"And let's not forget," a particularly sharp voice hissed, "he recently assassinated the head of the Kamo clan. One of our own! Are you out of your mind, Seijuro?"

"You've disgraced the Gojo clan with this decision!" another shouted, their anger palpable.

Seijuro sighed, running a hand through his hair, his expression remaining composed despite the verbal assault. He had expected this, but their ignorance of the bigger picture irritated him.

"I'm fully aware of who Toji Zenin is and what he's done," Seijuro began, his voice cutting through the noise. The murmurs died down slightly, though tension still lingered in the air.

"Then why?!" someone demanded. "How could you entrust the safety of your clan to a man like him?"

Seijuro smirked faintly, tilting his head as he regarded the shoji doors. "Because," he said, his voice smooth yet edged with steel, "what exactly are you going to do about it?"

The room fell silent momentarily, the audacity of his words hanging in the air.

"W-What did you just say?!" one of the voices sputtered, indignant.

Seijuro's smirk grew as he straightened his posture. "Let me remind you all that I am the head of the Gojo clan," he said, his tone now sharp and commanding. "As such, my decisions regarding the clan's affairs are final. I don't answer to any of you."

Murmurs turned into angry outbursts.

"You overstep your bounds, Gojo!"

"This isn't just about the Gojo clan—this concerns all of us!"

"We have the right to challenge decisions that endanger the jujutsu world as a whole!"

Seijuro raised a hand, silencing them with the sheer force of his presence. "You think you have the right," he said coldly, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. "But let's be clear—my authority as the head of the Gojo clan places me above your petty committees and councils. You have no power to overturn my decisions, and you know it."

The silhouettes shifted uneasily, their frustration evident.

"Toji Zenin is a weapon," Seijuro continued, his tone measured yet resolute. "A dangerous one, yes. But like any weapon, it's about how you wield it. Under my control, Toji Zenin becomes an asset—not just to the Gojo clan, but to the jujutsu world."

He paused, glancing at the shoji screens as if daring them to respond. "But don't misunderstand me," he added. "While I recognize Toji's potential as a weapon, I will not treat him as one. He's a human being, not an object. If he's willing to work with us to become more than his past defines him, then I'll give him that chance."

"You're a fool if you think he can be trusted," one voice spat angrily.

"Perhaps," Seijuro replied, his smirk returning. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take—because, unlike you, I'm thinking about the future. And believe me, the threats we face will require more than just your outdated rules and traditions."

His words hung in the air, the silence from the higher-ups speaking volumes. Though they were furious, they couldn't openly challenge him. Seijuro knew the truth—his position as the head of the Gojo clan made him almost untouchable. Their authority paled compared to his, and as much as they hated it, they had no choice but to concede.

For now.

The silence in the room lingered for what felt like an eternity. The tension was thick, the air heavy with unspoken words and seething frustration. Seijuro stood tall in the circle of light, his crimson eyes scanning the shoji doors for any sign of resistance.

Finally, one of the voices broke the silence, their tone strained but resigned. "Very well, Gojo. You've made your stance clear."

A ripple of murmured agreement followed though it was clear from their tone that they weren't satisfied. The silhouettes shifted slightly, their frustration palpable, but none dared to challenge him further.

"You may leave," another voice said curtly, dismissing him.

Seijuro inclined his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the circle of light, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.

As he slid the door open, the oppressive atmosphere of the room gave way to the crisp forest air outside. He stepped onto the dirt path, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he moved away from the suffocating tension of the meeting.

'So predictable,' Seijuro thought, a wry smile on his lips.

The higher-ups were nothing more than relics clinging to their outdated traditions and fear of change. He had expected resistance, but they had folded just as he anticipated. They could not act against him without risking their fragile balance of authority.

The forest path stretched out before him, serene and quiet. The faint rustle of leaves in the breeze was a welcome reprieve from the heated debate he had just endured. Seijuro took a deep breath, savoring the moment.

As he approached the clearing where the limo waited, the driver stood at attention, his expression neutral. He opened the door for Seijuro with a respectful bow.

"Welcome back, Gojo-sama," the driver said.

Seijuro nodded and slid into the back seat, leaning back against the plush leather with a sigh. The door closed with a soft click, and the limo began to roll forward, leaving the forest behind.

Staring out the tinted window, Seijuro's mind churned. 'That was just the beginning. The higher-ups won't forget this, and they'll be watching my every move now.' He frowned slightly. 'But it doesn't matter. Toji is one of the keys to reshaping this world, and I'll make sure they see it—even if I have to force their hand.'

As the limo merged onto the main road, the sunlight filtering through the trees, Seijuro allowed himself a small smile. For now, he had won. But the real battles were only just beginning.

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As Seijuro walked away, the room he left behind erupted into chaos. Now freed from his imposing presence, the higher-ups unleashed their frustration in a cacophony of angry mutters and heated complaints.

"That arrogant fool!" one voice snapped, the silhouette slamming a hand against the shoji screen. "He thinks he can defy tradition and act without consequence!"

"Who does he think he is?" another spat. "Just because he's the head of the Gojo clan doesn't mean he's untouchable!"

"Hiring Toji Zenin of all people!" a third voice hissed. "The Sorcerer Killer! He's not just dangerous—he's a stain on everything the jujutsu world stands for! And Gojo dared to turn him into a bodyguard?!"

"Seijuro Gojo acts like he's untouchable," a calmer but no less vicious voice cut in, "but his reckless decisions will ruin the jujutsu world. Mark my words."

The angry rants filled the air, their frustration simmering as they debated their next steps.

-Ding!

But their tirade was abruptly interrupted by a sharp ding.

The sound of a phone ringing broke through the noise. One of the silhouettes moved, retrieving the device from somewhere unseen.

"What is it about?" the figure demanded curtly.

A pause. Then their tone shifted, laced with tension. "I just received new information... Gojo's fight against Toji. It caused a massive stir among non-sorcerers."

The room fell silent for a moment before another voice broke the stillness, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

The figure holding the phone continued, their tone grim. "The fight—we or the jujutsu community didn't just notice it. Non-sorcerers saw it. All of it."

Gasps filled the room.

"Not surprising," someone scoffed. "They were fighting in the streets of Tokyo. Of course, someone would see."

"No, you don't understand," the first voice cut in sharply. "They didn't just see the destruction—they saw the lasers."

"What?!" another voice snapped, disbelief dripping from the word.

"Yes," the figure confirmed. "The reports from non-sorcerers explicitly mention the beams of light. What I assume was Gojo using Blue against Toji. The battle was so intense that even news outlets caught the footage. And the lasers are visible."

"That's impossible!" someone shouted. "Non-sorcerers shouldn't be able to see cursed energy or its manifestations unless directly affected by a curse!"

"I don't know how," the figure admitted, frustration evident. "But they saw it. And now, the story is spreading fast. If we don't act, it'll be all over the media by the end of the day."

The room erupted again, this time in panic rather than anger.

"This can't be allowed to spread!" one voice said urgently. "If non-sorcerers begin asking questions, it could expose the entire jujutsu world!"

"Damn that Gojo!" another spat. "First, he hired a criminal, and now he risks exposing us to the outside world!"

"What do we do?" someone else asked, their tone desperate.

"We must act quickly," the calmer voice from before interjected. "Deploy our information suppression teams. Confiscate any footage from media outlets and erase it from digital platforms. Spread misinformation if necessary—make it seem like an elaborate hoax or a special effects stunt."

"But this could still leave traces," another voice argued. "If someone has seen it and recorded it—"

"We'll handle it," the calm voice snapped. "Ensure that anyone who spreads the footage is dealt with. This must not reach non-sorcerers on a global scale. The secrecy of our world depends on it."

The murmurs of agreement filled the room, though frustration still lingered.

"Seijuro Gojo," one voice muttered bitterly. "The mess he's created is just beginning. If he keeps this up, he'll bring more than ruin to the Gojo clan—he'll drag the entire jujutsu society down with him."

A heavy silence followed each figure in the room, stewing in their resentment and dread. The fight with Toji had caused a ripple far greater than any of them anticipated, and now it was up to them to clean up the mess—whether Seijuro cared or not.

-Ding!

"I just received new information..." the voice holding the phone began, their tone heavy with foreboding.

"What is it now?" one of the other silhouettes asked, irritation lacing their words.

The voice hesitated, then spoke with measured seriousness. "People from London—specifically, the Mage's Association—have taken notice of the incident."

A heavy silence followed the kind that made the air feel heavier. Then, the room erupted.

"Mage's Association?!" one voice barked, their disbelief echoing loudly. "Why in the world would they stick their noses into this?"

"This is outrageous!" another exclaimed, their tone nearly hysterical. "Why would outsiders intrude in the affairs of jujutsu sorcerers?! This has nothing to do with them!"

A calmer, deeply concerned voice interjected, "Do they think we're some sort of offshoot of their organization? Or are they looking to expand their influence here?"

"They have no business meddling in the affairs of the jujutsu world!" one of the more senior voices snarled. "We've always operated independently from them. Their methods, their systems—none of it aligns with our traditions."

Another voice, cold and analytical, spoke up. "The Mage's Association likely took notice because of the scale of the incident. If non-sorcerers across Tokyo could see the cursed energy—and even the news broadcasted the lasers—then it's only logical that the Mage's Association would be interested. They thrive on studying and controlling magical phenomena, and this... this is uncharted territory for them."

A murmur of agreement spread through the room.

"They probably see this as an opportunity," another voice spat. "An excuse to step into Japan and try to impose their own rules and authority over us!"

"They must think we're incompetent if we can't keep our secrets," someone growled. "Arrogant fools, thinking they have the right to meddle in our matters."

"And we all know how they operate," a voice added, dripping with disdain. "The Mage's Association treats everything like a resource to be studied and exploited. If they step foot in Japan, they'll pick apart our traditions and techniques and try to turn them into tools for their own gain."

The room fell silent again as the weight of the situation settled over them. Finally, one of the voices spoke, their tone resolute and icy.

"This cannot be allowed. The Mage's Association has no jurisdiction here, and they must be made to understand that."

"But how?" someone asked, their voice wavering. "If they've already taken interest, they won't back down so easily."

"We send a message," the persistent voice replied. "Remind them of the boundaries they've always respected. They have no place in Japan, and their interference will not be tolerated."

"And if they persist?" another asked, their tone cautious.

"Then we escalate," the voice replied darkly. "If they want to overstep their boundaries, we'll show them that the jujutsu world isn't one to trifle with."

Another voice added, calmer but equally determined, "We must also contain the incident entirely. Erase every trace of the fight, every mention of the lasers from public records, and tighten our grip on information leaks. They'll lose interest if there's nothing for them to study."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

"They will not cross into our domain," someone declared firmly. "This is our world, and outsiders will not dictate how we handle our affairs."

The room echoed with a sense of unified purpose, though unease lingered beneath their resolve. The Mage's Association was no minor threat, and their interest in the Tokyo incident hinted at deeper complications. Yet, the higher-ups were clear—they would defend the autonomy of the jujutsu world at all costs.