Check out my new fanfic: Jujutsu Kaisen: What is Life?
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Was busy with stuff yesterdayš . I did not update a daily chapter after more than a monthĀ of daily updates.... Which is fire.
Anyway, sorry for the delay, but here it is. Enjoy.
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Akira slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked a few times, he noticed his neck was stiff. His back ached from sleeping upright.
Then he felt the weight on his arm.
He turned his head.
Momo was leaning against his shoulder, both hands wrapped around his arm, her cheek pressed into his shirt. Her ponytail had come undone at some point during the night, and her black hair spilled across her shoulder and his.
She was still deep asleep.
On his lap, Nia was curled into a tight ball, her tail draped over her nose.
Akira looked at Momo. Then at her fingers curled around his sleeve like she was holding onto something she didn't want to lose, even in her sleep.
He smiled.
Slowly, carefully, he began to pull his arm free.
Momo stirred as her grip tightened. She mumbled something into his shirt.
"Just a few more minutes..."
Akira silently laughed. He waited a moment, then eased his arm out the rest of the way, centimetre by centimetre, until her hands were holding air.
He picked Nia up from his lap and then laid Momo down gently on the couch, adjusting the cushion under her head. Then he placed Nia next to her. Nia immediately curled into Momo's side.
Akira looked at the two of them for a moment.
He leaned down and kissed Momo softly on the forehead. He did the same to Nia.
Then he walked toward the bathroom without making a sound.
Akira stood under the water, letting it run over his shoulders and down his back.
He closed his eyes and thought.
Twenty days of preparation. Twenty days of pushing himself and Momo toward the Sports Festival.
Momo had improved drastically. Her suit was now functional in combat. She could generate it in under four seconds, fly in short bursts using the micro-thrusters, and fight while airborne. Her reaction time had sharpened. She was a a walking war machine now.
And him?
He had finally cracked thermal sense.
For months, he had been trying to use it while his quirk was active. The problem was simple in theory and really hard in practice.
But now, after twenty days of training, he could do it. He could maintain Phoenix Drive at moderate output and still read the thermal map of his surroundings. Every person. Every animal. Every source of heat within a hundred-metre radius was rendered in his mind like a sonar pulse.
It was a massive breakthrough.
But that was where the progress stopped.
His swordsmanship on the other hand, had hit a wall.
He could feel it in every session. His form was clean. His speed was excellent. His blade was sharp enough to cut through most defences. But there was a ceiling ā a level of technique he couldn't reach no matter how many times he drilled the same kata, the same strikes, and the same combinations.
He had taught himself everything he knew. Books. Videos. Trial and error. It had carried him this far, but self-taught had limits. There were things you couldn't learn alone.
And for that he needed a teacher.
I should ask Mom about it.
He turned off the water, dried off, and pulled on a loose yukata. The kind he only wore at home ā dark blue, untied, hanging open at the chest. Comfortable as fuck.
He walked back downstairs silently. Momo and Nia were still on the couch, exactly where he'd left them. Nia had somehow migrated to Momo's face which Momo didn't seem to mind.
He slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. It was ceramic, slightly uneven, with "WORLD'S BEST SON" written on it.
He filled it with orange juice, took a sip and sighed.
"Nothing better than orange juice to start a day."
He leaned against the counter, drinking slowly, letting the morning settle. Then he heard voices coming from the other side.
Was someone coming today?
He didn't remember anyone being scheduled. It was Saturday after all.
He walked out of the kitchen, mug in hand, and walked out to the lawn.
His mother was there, sitting in her usual chair, looking totally pissed.
Across from her, on the guest sofa, sat two people.
Akira looked at the man. White suit with gold sunglasses.
No way.
"The fuck are you doing here?"
Jian Li froze mid-sentence, and turned towards my direction.
The woman next to him ā the one Akira didn't recognise, with long dark hair and a gentle smile, who he assumed was one of the two wives he hadn't met in China ā burst out laughing.
She wiped a tear from her eye. "Your mother said the exact same thing when she saw his face."
Jian placed a hand over his chest. "Why does everyone not like me? Is it the suit? It's the suit, isn't it? I knew I should have worn the blue one."
"I don't know," Akira said flatly. "Maybe don't just spawn at someone's house randomly."
"I didn't spawn! I arrived! With style! And gifts!" Jian gestured vaguely at a bag near the door that Akira hadn't noticed. "There's something in there for you, the cat, and your mother. But now I'm reconsidering because none of you deserve my generosity."
Honoka muttered something under her breath that sounded like "I will burn that bag."
Jian stood up, smoothing his jacket, and shifted into what he probably thought was a professional posture.
"Well, I'm not here randomly," he said. "I, along with my wives, are here to scout for our hero agency. Yu handles the recruitment every year, but this time, I decided to tag along personally. The U.A. Sports Festival is the biggest event on the calendar in Japan, and Celestial Axis deserves to have its CEO present for first-round picks."
"Really?" Akira said.
Jian nodded eagerly. "Yup, yup. Very serious business trip."
Xiaoqing, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, smiled and said, "He's making excuses. He wanted time off work, and he wanted to see Honoka because he hadn't been able to annoy her for over a month."
"XIAOQING!!!" Jian yelled, spinning toward her.
Honoka sighed from her chair. "Just how wrong are you in your head, Jian?"
Jian opened his mouth, closed it, then decided to change the subject entirely. His eyes landed on Akira.
Specifically, on Akira's chest. The loose yukata was hanging open, and the build underneath was hard to miss. Defined shoulders, and very solid abs.
Jian raised his eyebrows.
"Would you look at that," he said, nodding approvingly. "Someone's been working really hard. By now, you must have at least three girlfriends."
Akira looked down at himself. The yukata was hanging open more than he'd realised.
He sighed. "I should get changed."
Then he paused.
"And no. I'm fine with the one I have."
Jian froze.
"You have a girlfriend?!"
Akira took a sip of his orange juice. "Yeah."
"HOW?! WHEN?! WHO?!"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because I am your mother's friend!" Jian declared, pointing at Honoka.
"Not really," Honoka said.
Jian shushed her. He actually raised his palm toward her face and shushed her.
Honoka's jaw dropped. She stared at the audacity of this joker. Xiaoqing quietly placed a hand on Honoka's shoulder, which was the only thing preventing an international incident.
Jian, completely unaware of how close he was to death, turned back to Akira.
"Tell me."
Akira sighed. "It's Momo. From the Yaoyorozu family. You should know them."
"Yaoyorozu?!" Jian's eyes lit up. "The Creative Corp heiress? The one with the Creation quirk? The girl who tased that kid in my tower?"
"That's the one."
Jian leaned back, crossing his arms. A slow, impressed grin spread across his face. "Wow. You have fine taste, my friend. Fine taste indeed."
"Yeah, yeah. Sure."
Akira turned to his mother, his expression shifting.
"Mom. Do we know any high-level sword users?"
Honoka blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Why? What happened?"
"I've hit a wall," Akira said. "My swordsmanship has plateaued. I can't figure out how to improve on my own. I need instruction from someone who's better than me. Significantly better."
Honoka frowned, thinking. She opened her mouth, but she could never get the chance.
Jian jumped up from the sofa.
"I got you."
Akira looked at him. "You do?"
"You know Mei, right? My First Wife?"
"Yeah. The strong one."
"'The strong one,'" Jian repeated, laughing. "That's one way to describe her. Listen, kid. When it comes to swordplay, I can bet my entire company on the fact that Mei Lin is the best in all of Asia. Maybe the world. Her quirk, Warblade, lets her create any bladed weapon from nothing. She's been fighting with swords since she was five.Ā Be it underground rings, corporate wars, or actual wars. She has more combat experience with a blade than most pro heroes will ever have in their lifetime."
He looked at Akira.
"She's here. In Japan. At the hotel with the others. If you want a teacher, I can make it happen."
Akira looked at his mother.
Honoka was looking at Jian with suspicion.
"What are you trying?"
Jian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say whatever dramatic nonsense was loading, Xiaoqing reached over and placed her hand directly over his face.
Xiaoqing looked at Honoka.
"He jokes around like this," Xiaoqing said. "He always has. But he's serious about wanting to be your friend."
She paused.
"Before he met us, Jian had never made a friend. Not a real one. He had employees, rivals, contacts, and enemies. But never a friend. The five of us were the first people who ever treated him like a person, and he married us."
She glanced at Jian, whose mouth was still covered by her hand. His eyes were looking at the floor.
"When he saw you, and the way you lived, and the way you loved your son," Xiaoqing continued, "he recognised something he wanted. Not your company. Not your connections. Just a friend. That's all."
She removed her hand from Jian's face.
He didn't speak immediately. The dramatic gestures were gone.
He looked down for a moment.
Then he looked at Honoka.
"Yeah," he said simply. "In short, what she said."
He swallowed.
"So, can you give me a chance?"
Honoka stared at him.
The room was silent. Xiaoqing sat still.
Honoka kept staring.
"That's all?" she asked.
Jian blinked. "What?"
"That's all you wanted? To be friends?"
"I... yes?"
Honoka shook her head slowly. She looked exhausted. Like someone who had been fighting something for a long time and was finally deciding to stop.
"If you wanted that," she said, "then just say it you fucker. Because I have no idea when you're joking and when you're not. You've spent two years sending me glitter bombs and lawsuits. How am I supposed to know?"
Jian stared at her.
"So..." he said carefully. "We're friends?"
Honoka sighed.
"Yeah," she said. "We can start with that."
Jian's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. He opened his mouth ā probably to yell, or hug her, or declare a national holiday.
"If you yell," Honoka said, "I will break your nose."
Jian closed his mouth, nodded and sat down.
Xiaoqing patted his knee.
Akira, standing behind the chairs with his orange juice, looked at his mother. Then at Jian. Then at Xiaoqing. Then back at his mother.
The fuck is going on?
He took a sip of his juice and walked away. Some things were better left to the adults.
--<<>>--
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MC got a masterš
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