A vein throbbed on Akoto's forehead, nearly breaking through the skin as his patience visibly wore thin. The irritation didn't come from danger… but from persistence. That constant, silent presence, clinging to him for days—weeks—was more annoying than any curse he had ever exterminated.
"Stop following me, child."
His voice came out dry, carrying genuine exhaustion. It had already been a month since the last territory was cleansed, and the walk to the next point should have been simple. Solitary. Silent.
But it wasn't.
The child was still there.
Even now, standing a few steps behind him—dirty, thin… and still staring.
"Child, you can stop now."
Akoto turned fully, his heavy gaze falling over her like invisible weight. There was something wrong with that persistence. It wasn't fear. It wasn't admiration.
It was emptiness.
"I can't."
The answer came directly.
Without hesitation.
Akoto raised an eyebrow, surprised—not by the words… but by the firmness behind them.
"So you can talk, huh?" He crossed his arms slightly, studying her. "Why?"
The child lowered her head for a moment, as if searching for words inside something that no longer existed.
"Because I'm nobody."
Akoto went still for a second… and then almost laughed.
That was ridiculous.
"Huh? Nobody?" The disdain came easily, naturally. "What a joke."
He took a step forward, his gaze sharp, direct.
"You're alive. That already makes you someone." His voice wasn't gentle, but it wasn't empty either. It was firm—almost cutting. "If you don't have a name… then you're just Nameless."
The child remained still.
Head lowered.
"You're right…"
For a moment, it seemed like that ended the conversation.
But then—
A metallic glint cut through the air.
The child pulled out a knife.
Without hesitation.
Foosh!
The motion was direct, precise… aimed straight at her own chest.
But before the blade could even touch her skin—
It bent like paper.
The knife twisted in on itself, warping until it became completely useless, slipping from the child's hand like a dead object.
Akoto didn't move.
His gaze slowly dropped to the deformed blade… then returned to the child.
"What was that just now?" His voice carried more boredom than surprise. "Tried to kill yourself?"
"Yes."
Akoto fell silent for a moment, staring at the completely twisted blade in the child's hands. The metal still trembled slightly, as if it had been crushed by an invisible force before it could fulfill its purpose.
His eyes slowly lifted to her face.
There was no hesitation there.
No visible despair, no tears, no trembling… just a deep emptiness—uncomfortable to look at. Like staring at something that had already given up on existing, but hadn't yet been erased.
Akoto let out a long sigh, running a hand over his face, clearly irritated… but not in the same way as before.
"…What a pain."
He looked away for a second, as if organizing his thoughts, then turned back to her with that same closed expression.
"If it were just about not having a name, that'd be easy to fix." His voice came out lower, less sharp than before, though still impatient. "But this… has nothing to do with being nobody."
The child didn't respond. She just kept her head down, holding the warped handle of the knife as if it still meant something.
Akoto watched her for a few more seconds… then took a small step forward.
"You tried to kill yourself… and couldn't even do that properly." The words were blunt, direct, without any attempt to soften them.
But beneath it, there was no contempt.
There was judgment… and something harder to name.
"If you're going to do something, do it right. That was pathetic."
He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he looked her up and down.
"But since you can't even manage that… stop acting like it's already over."
The wind passed between them, lifting dust from the ground.
For a moment, silence settled in.
Then Akoto looked away again, as if arriving at an annoying decision.
"Tsk."
He clicked his tongue.
"If you really were a 'nobody,' you wouldn't have made it this far to me."
His eyes returned to her, firmer now.
"So decide what you want to be. Staying in between… is just a waste of time."
He turned his back, as if he were simply going to walk away again.
But this time, he didn't tell the child to stop following him.
The dust stirred by the wind still drifted slowly in the air as Akoto turned, his haori moving lightly with him—contrasting the invisible weight he left behind.
His steps resumed, steady, unhurried… but without pause.
Behind him, the child remained still for a few seconds.
Her fingers still held the warped handle of the knife—now useless, cold… without purpose. Her gaze dropped to the twisted metal, tracing the impossible bends forced into it.
That hadn't been physical strength.
It was rejection.
The world… had rejected that death.
Or perhaps… someone had.
The child's fingers loosened.
Clack!
The knife hit the ground, the dry sound echoing louder than it should in that silent space. But this time, she didn't try to pick it up again.
For the first time, something shifted.
It wasn't hope—not yet.
But it wasn't the same emptiness either.
Her head slowly lifted, her eyes following Akoto's figure as he walked away—that overwhelming presence moving as if everything around him was insignificant… and yet, he had stopped.
He had interfered.
"…Choose…"
The word came out faint, almost inaudible, as if it was too unfamiliar to be used.
Her feet moved.
One step.
Then another.
Slow at first… unsteady… but consistent.
The distance between them began to close again.
Akoto didn't look back.
But he noticed. Of course he did.
The faint sound of footsteps, the uneven rhythm… a weak presence trying to follow something far beyond its reach.
"Tsk…"
He clicked his tongue again, but this time, the sound didn't carry the same irritation as before.
...
"Master."
"Don't call me that."
"Why didn't you let me die?"
"When did I do that?"
"Just now… with the knife."
"Did I? …Hm."
Silence settled for a moment before the child spoke again.
"How do you do that, Master?"
Akoto, who was using gravity to carve a path through the mountains—lifting and shifting stone to form crude steps—glanced at her.
"It's my Innate Technique. Fundamental Force Manipulation."A lie, and not even a subtle one. He wasn't the type to reveal something like that so easily.
"Fundamental… forces?"
"It's not something you'd understand right now, child." His tone was flat, dismissive, but not entirely cold. "But to answer your question—it's an ability I was born with as a Jujutsu Sorcerer."
"Jujutsu Sorcerer?"
"People who can use and control cursed energy," he replied as another section of rock lifted and settled into place ahead of them. "A kind of negative energy that exists in all living beings. Most people have it… but they can't control it."
He stepped forward onto the newly formed stone, not even checking if it would hold.
"That's what separates sorcerers from non-sorcerers."
The child followed a step behind, watching the ground reshape itself with quiet awe.
For her, the world had always been small.
Cold and Empty.
But now, it was starting to feel… different.
"Am I… a Jujutsu Sorcerer, Master?"
"Yes. Otherwise you'd be leaking all over the place."
"Leaking?"
Akoto exhaled slowly through his nose, already sounding like he regretted allowing questions.
He kept climbing, stone steps forming beneath his feet as the mountain reshaped itself with absurd precision—entire blocks lifted and repositioned as if they weighed nothing. Behind him, the child struggled to keep up, stumbling at times, but never stopping.
"Leaking…"
Akoto repeated the word, disinterested, as if deciding how much it was worth explaining.
"It's when cursed energy escapes from you without control." He raised a hand slightly, and for a brief moment, a thin layer of purple energy wrapped around his fingers—stable, contained, without fluctuation. "Everyone produces that energy… but those who can't control it let it spill out constantly."
He glanced sideways at the child.
"That's how curses are born. Negative emotions leaking… accumulating… taking form."
The child fell silent, absorbing it, her gaze lowering to her own body as if trying to see something invisible.
"So… if I'm not leaking…"
"It means you have enough control," Akoto cut in, looking forward again. "Or at least the potential for it."
A few more steps.
The sound of stone shifting echoed rhythmically, almost hypnotic.
"But don't get excited," he added flatly. "Being able to use it doesn't mean you know how to use it."
The child lightly clenched her hands, as if trying to feel something there.
"Master…"
"I told you not to call me that."
"So… what do I call you?"
Akoto fell silent for a moment.
The wind passed between them again, stronger this time, stirring his haori as he paused midway up the slope.
Without looking back, he answered:
"Akoto."
The child repeated it quietly, as if testing the weight of the name.
"Akoto…" A small pause followed… and then: "Master… what do I do now?"
This time, Akoto actually stopped.
His eyes closed briefly, as if that question bothered him more than any other so far.
Not because it was difficult—
But because it was too simple.
"Walk." he said, moving again. "If you want to stop being 'nobody,' then start by not standing still."