The air in the room was thick, heavier than the clouds obscuring the stars outside. The three sat amidst the quiet aftermath of their failed kill but successful purge.
"They'll find some patsy to take the fall," Kamo Itsuki stated, his voice a flat line of disgust. "A resignation, a tragic accident. The machinery of the higher-ups grinds on, swallowing accountability whole."
Gojo Satoru's chair creaked as he leaned forward, a dangerous spark in his cerulean eyes. "So all that work was for nothing? We should just go smash their heads in. Clean and simple."
A faint, cold smile touched Kamo Itsuki's lips. "The work was for identification. We can't execute them for treason in a court that belongs to them. But a sorcerer can die in many ways. A 'cursed spirit attack' during a sensitive, private meeting, for instance. Tragic. Unfortunate. Untraceable."
Gojo's anger morphed into a grin of wicked understanding. "Ha! So you're just dressing my 'smash' plan up in fancy clothes."
"The clothes are the point," Itsuki countered, his tone turning lecturing. "You'd raze the structure. I'm performing targeted surgery. We remove the tumor after we've secured a healthy cell to replace it. We maintain stability while excising the rot. If the entire body is diseased… well, then your method becomes the only option. But we're not there yet."
He leaned in, the strategic light burning in his gaze. "And there's a greater benefit. Kenjaku's greatest weapon was his intelligence network within the clans. We've just ripped out the Kamo Clan's infected nodes. That's one ear he's gone deaf in. We do the same in the Gojo Clan, and his information bleeds dry. Meanwhile, our own channels grow clearer. We win the shadow war not just with strength, but with silence and light."
Gojo nodded slowly, the logic settling in. "Fine. The Gojo Clan's housecleaning is my party. But the Zen'in Clan…" He trailed off, a mischievous glint returning. "I've got it! Suguru should marry into the Zen'in family! Become the clan head through matrimony! It's perfect!"
Geto Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. "Marrying in doesn't make you head of the family, Satoru. What did you hit your head on?"
Kamo Itsuki barked a short, genuine laugh. "If Shoko heard you pimping out her partner like that, she'd use you to test new dissection techniques."
He sobered, looking between them. "We handle our own clans first. The Zen'in Clan…" He paused, a contemplative look in his eyes. "I have some ideas. Potential candidates exist, even in unlikely places. A girl denied her birthright, a boy who doesn't yet know his name, and… a man they cast out as trash." He left the names unspoken, but the possibilities hung in the air like unsheathed blades. "We'll discuss it when the time is right. One tumor at a time."
The meeting broke with a sense of grim purpose. They hadn't slain the ancient enemy, but they had begun the systemic dismantling of his world. The battle had moved from open warfare to a cold, meticulous campaign of institutional reform and targeted removals. The night was still dark, but they had started to snuff out the enemy's lanterns, one by one.
The internal calculus was exhausting. Megumi and Maki were still seeds, not yet trees. Toji was a live grenade with the pin already pulled. The Zen'in problem was a snarled knot he had no time to untangle, not with the meticulous purge of his own clan demanding every ounce of his focus.
Kenjaku is wounded, not dead, he thought, pacing the quiet of his study. But a wounded beast hides to lick its wounds. That gives us a window. The old adage echoed in his mind: Secure your own house before chasing out the intruder.
The seasons turned. The last breezes of spring gave way to the heavy, buzzing heat of summer, and with it, Kamo Itsuki's eighteenth birthday arrived, and his formal graduation from Jujutsu High was complete. He stood now not as a student, but as a fully-fledged Special Grade Sorcerer and the most disruptive element to enter the Kamo Clan in centuries.
Within the austere, fortified compound of the Kamo main family, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and older politics. The clan's ruling council, rarely assembled in full, was gathered in the primary meeting hall.
At the head of the long, polished table sat the Clan Head, Kamo Masaki. His posture was rigid, his face a mask of weathered authority, his eyes dark pools that gave nothing away. Flanking him were the four pillars of the clan's governance:
To his left:
Kamo Amakawa, the Enforcer. A mountain of a man with a battlefield glare, responsible for the clan's martial strength and internal discipline.
Kamo Katou, the Spymaster. Sharp-eyed and perpetually assessing, he managed the clan's vast web of external connections and intelligence.
To his right:
Kamo Chihoshi, the Steward. Plump and perpetually smiling, his geniality masked a razor-sharp mind that controlled the clan's considerable wealth and resources.
Kamo Aoo, the Administrator. Tall, stern, and impeccably formal, he handled all personnel, assignments, and clan logistics.
"Aoo," Kamo Masaki's voice cut through the silent tension. "You convened this council. Now that we are all here, speak your purpose."
Kamo Aoo gave a precise, shallow bow from his seat. "Yes, Clan Head. The matter concerns Kamo Itsuki. He has officially graduated from Jujutsu High today. The question before this council is… what role shall he now assume within the clan structure?"
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas. All eyes shifted from Aoo to Masaki, awaiting a pronouncement that would determine the balance of power within the clan for a generation. They were waiting to see if the old guard would cage the young dragon, or if the dragon was already too powerful to be caged.
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