Zoro
Biiiip — biiiiip — biiiip.
The holding tone had completely filled the room. Standing there with the receiver pressed against one ear, the free hand opening and closing mechanically, not really aware it was doing it.
Nobody was picking up on the other end, and it was starting to get genuinely irritating.
"Come on, old man — pick up. I need your help."
The grip on the air tightened a little more with each passing second, frustration bleeding into every word.
"He probably hasn't gotten over last time. You did hang up on him without letting him say a single word. And on top of that, you never even told him we were taking a provisional break from the work."
Behind Zoro, Toji was sprawled across the bed with a GameBoy in both hands.
"God, Mortal Kombat is genuinely unplayable on this thing."
"Since when do you know Mortal Kombat?"
The question sounded stupid even as it came out — but the fact that Toji knew Mortal Kombat at all had genuinely landed as a surprise. Obviously, the game was known from the other life, the other dimension, the other timeline. But it hadn't reached mainstream popularity in Japan yet — certainly not in an era where the entire market was dominated by Street Fighter.
"Of course I know it. What do you take me for — a noob?"
'He's way more invested in the versus fighting scene than I gave him credit for. Maybe I should enter him in an EVO at some point.'
A few seconds of reflection. Then the thought got reconsidered.
'No. That would just be unfair to every other competitor.'
But now that it was out in the open — there was one question that simply couldn't be left unasked.
"So — Scorpion or Sub-Zero?"
Toji looked up from the screen, let a slow grin form, and answered without hesitation: "Kung Lao."
A silence settled over the room. They looked at each other for a long moment. Then both of them started smiling at exactly the same time.
"Heeeh."
Both of them leaned in toward each other.
Clap!
"Good taste, little brother."
"Obviously I have good taste."
The tension in the room dissolved entirely, leaving behind only the usual, comfortable atmosphere that existed between the two of them.
Of course, something had to come along and ruin it.
"Hello?"
The man finally picked up.
"About time. Hey, old man?"
"You have some real nerve calling me after what you pulled last time."
"Save it — no time for that right now. You can give me the lecture later. I need to find someone."
The man on the other end of the line was a courier introduced by Kahmi Jin — someone who handled mission logistics and post-mission cleanup, and ran information on the side when the job called for it.
"Idon't see why I'd bother."
"Twenty million yen just to take the job. Another twenty million bonus if the information you bring back is actually useful."
Several seconds of silence held on the other end. Then:
"Who are you looking for?"
"Tsukumo Yuki. Fourteen years old. Blonde."
"…"
"So — you're taking it."
"…"
"Hello?"
"…"
"Old man?"
"Why are you looking for the Stellar Plasma?"
'Tch. So it does connect to Tengen. Just as I suspected.'
"That's not your concern. Are you taking the job or not?"
"...Fine. I'm taking it. What exactly do you need — just her location, or more than that?"
"Her location, and a complete rundown of everything that's happened to her over the last ten years."
"That's a lot."
"Forty million yen seems like more than enough compensation. Or am I wrong about that?"
"No. You're not wrong. I'll get back to you in a week."
He hung up.
The receiver went back on the cradle. The mind was already somewhere else.
"I hope she's doing alright."
"GOD I AM ABSOLUTELY DONE WITH THIS GARBAGE GAME."
Toji sat upright and threw the console directly onto the bed.
"I'm going out. I'm buying a PlayStation."
'I really do wonder if we spoiled him too much.'
---
Narrator
Tsukumo Yuki woke up that morning with the same emptiness as every morning, from the same dream as every morning, and carrying the same question as every morning.
Who was he?
Who was that boy who had stayed by her side that day?
Why had he saved her from a cursed spirit instead of running?
Why did she still dream about him, even now, all these years later?
She got out of bed, and her gaze went directly to the frame sitting on the wall. The one with the photograph of her mother inside it.
"Two years already."
She walked over and picked it up, holding it in both hands. No tears came — they had all been used up a long time ago.
What remained now was a dream that kept living somewhere in her chest, and a destiny that made it permanently unreachable.
Knock knock knock.
"Yuki-sama. Your bath is ready," said a female voice from outside the door.
Yuki looked toward it and answered quickly. "I'll be right there."
She opened the door and found the servant kneeling on the floor beside it, head dipped in a deep bow.
A long sigh escaped.
"Haaa. I've already asked you to stop doing that."
"And I've already told you that I can't."
'She is genuinely stubborn. And she's not even the only one.'
Out of the room and into the corridors, the servant falling in step behind. Along the way, several others appeared — each one carrying the exact same posture, each one with the exact same greeting.
"Yuki-sama."
"Yuki-sama."
"Good morning to all of you as well."
*'Is this really necessary every single time? I understand being the Stellar Plasma comes with expectations, but dropping to the floor the moment I walk past is excessive.'*
The pace picked up to clear the awkwardness as quickly as possible. The bathroom was eventually reached.
On entry, the servant made the same attempt she made every morning — trying to step inside alongside her.
"Same answer as every day: I wash myself. Wait out here."
No argument. Two years of the exact same exchange had run down whatever energy she'd once put into it.
'If you're that tired of it, why do you keep trying?'
The shower was supposed to be short. That is not what happened. It went on for a very long time, Yuki having been pulled under by her familiar current of thoughts — reviewing every circumstance, every decision, every chain of events that had carried her from that day to this one.
She emerged two hours later, already fully dressed. The servant hadn't moved from her spot. Her expression remained completely still — as though she'd known from the beginning exactly how long it would take.
The next words she'd been prepared for as well.
"I'm going to the archives."
"As you wish, Yuki-sama."
---
Yuki
Into the archives with one clear goal in mind: find a way to eliminate all cursed spirits entirely.
There was no world in which those things were going to be allowed to keep existing after what they had done to mother.
A way to stop them from appearing at all had to exist somewhere — and finding it meant coming to this archive every single day, even though it was poorly stocked, badly maintained, and decades behind anything useful.
"Honestly. Not even lightbulbs? I have to carry a lamp around like it's the Heian period."
Two years of this, and most of the documents had already been combed through. The vast majority were history books or propaganda celebrating Tengen and the higher circles of the jujutsu world — usually both things at the same time.
For anything that actually mattered, access to the archives of one of the Three Great Clans would be necessary, or those of the jujutsu college.
"And unfortunately, the Stellar Plasma will never be getting anywhere near either of those."
"Access to what?" said an unfamiliar voice.
"KYAAAA! WHO'S THERE?!"
The lamp swept across every corner of the room as the body turned in every direction.
Nothing visible. Nothing anywhere.
Then a hand came over the mouth from behind, closing off any sound.
Only then did a presence register — right behind, close enough to feel breathing.
"Please be quiet. I only want to talk."
The voice was young. Nothing aggressive in it. But something deep in the gut said to stop fighting and listen.
The struggling stopped. The hand came away. A fast turn around.
The person standing there — a teenager, based on the voice alone — gave no sign of wanting to attack. Dark clothes. A mask across the lower half of the face.
"My name is Roronoa Zoro. And I owe your mother a debt."