Chapter 87: Playful Cloud
"What are you thinking about?"
After the others dispersed, Ren walked alone toward Maki Zen'in, who was still sitting quietly at the edge of the training field.
Maki shook her head, quickly masking her expression. "N-nothing."
Ren studied her for a moment. That serious look on her face clearly didn't match "nothing," but since she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't press further.
Instead, he formed a hand seal. Shadows spread beneath his feet, and he crouched slightly, pulling something out from within them.
A three-section staff.
Maki's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Special Grade Cursed Tool—Playful Cloud." Ren held the staff awkwardly, giving it a clumsy spin. "I got it back for you from Megumi."
Maki fell silent for a moment, staring at him.
Then, slowly, the corners of her lips lifted. The gloom on her face melted away into a bright smile.
"Then… just keep it with you," she said.
"…What?" Ren frowned, confused.
"What do you mean keep it with me? I brought it for you."
Maki gave him a strange look.
"It's more convenient if you carry it. If I need it, I'll just take it from you."
What is this guy even thinking?
She had assumed he brought it over out of some petty reason—jealousy, maybe, or something like that.
But apparently… that wasn't it?
Then what exactly is he thinking?
Ren, on the other hand, looked just as puzzled.
"You can let me carry the other tools if you want," he said, "but your main weapon should stay with you at all times. What if neither Megumi nor I are around?"
He pointed toward the naginata resting beside her on the stone steps. Along with several other cursed tools, it was something she almost never let out of her sight.
"I've been wondering," Ren said, voicing a question he'd been holding in for a while. "If you're carrying something anyway, why bring that ordinary naginata instead of a special grade cursed tool like Playful Cloud?"
"Wouldn't this be better?"
He muttered under his breath, "Or do you just have… some kind of attachment issue?"
"Yes, I do have an attachment issue, that's why—"
Maki stuck out her tongue, staring at him intently. Then she glanced around the training field and abruptly stopped herself.
She shot him a sharp glare.
After a moment of silence under his steady gaze, she lowered her head. Shifting slightly, she spoke again, her voice quieter.
"…Actually… it's because I have a shadow tied to that weapon."
"A shadow?"
"…Yeah. You've heard of the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons last year, right?"
"The large-scale curse attack initiated by the former special grade sorcerer, Suguru Geto."
"At the time, Tokyo Jujutsu High was directly attacked by Geto himself… and I was beaten to the brink of death."
"…What?" Ren's expression changed.
"Playful Cloud…" Maki said softly, "…was the weapon he used."
Because of that—
whenever she faced that weapon, she couldn't help but recall that overwhelming, terrifying figure standing amidst countless curses… like a demon towering over everything.
The memory of lying in a pool of blood… the regrets, the unfinished resolve, the terrifying closeness to death—everything surged back together whenever she thought of it.
It wasn't to the point where she would lose the will to fight the moment she saw the weapon.
But it was still… an unpleasant feeling.
That was why Maki Zen'in refused to carry it all the time. She would only use it when facing an enemy she couldn't defeat otherwise.
After listening to her, Ren fell silent.
He hadn't expected that this weapon would carry such painful memories for her.
"…Even so," he said at last, lifting Playful Cloud and lightly tapping her forehead with it.
"You still have to use it."
"You have to overcome it."
"Because like I said, neither I nor Megumi can always be by your side."
"And if one day… you run into an enemy you can only defeat with this weapon, what then?"
"Are you going to regret it only when—" he paused, "…when disaster is already right in front of you?"
Maki looked at him, at the worry written plainly across his face—and smiled.
"You're really worried I might die, huh?"
"Isn't that obvious?" Ren muttered, clicking his tongue and turning his head away.
"Then… tap me once more."
"…What?"
The request caught him off guard.
Maki reached out, grasping his hand—the one holding Playful Cloud—and guided it herself, letting the weapon gently tap her forehead again.
This time, instead of fear or shadow, the cold, solid weight of the weapon brought her a strange sense of reassurance.
"Now," she said, looking at the confused boy with a faint smile,
"the next time I see this weapon… I won't just remember how Suguru Geto nearly killed me."
"I'll also remember… a certain idiot who'd probably cry and beg me not to die."
"For that idiot…"
She gently took the weapon from his hand and gripped it firmly.
"I'll make sure to use it properly."
No matter what kind of situation she faced—
she would keep fighting.
Just so she could make it back to him again.
A soft shadow fell over them.
Ren leaned in.
His lips met hers.
"Wait—" Maki's expression, tender just moments ago, shifted in alarm. Holding Playful Cloud, she tried to push him away. "Wait, this is school—we agreed—"
"Forgive me, Maki… just this once."
His lips parted hers as he spoke, his voice muffled between breaths, stealing her words as he kissed her.
At the same time, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and back, pulling her close—so close it almost felt like he was trying to fuse them together. The force of the embrace made her feel a faint ache.
"Just this once."
"After this… you can punish me however you want. Even if you smash my head in with Playful Cloud—I won't complain."
He kissed her as if he'd lost himself completely.
Maki's grip on the weapon slowly loosened.
What could she say now?
What was there left to say?
The heat of his breath, the strength of his arms—everything about him surrounded her completely.
In the dimming light of evening, beneath the dense shade of trees, the two figures held each other tightly.
Maki's hands slowly rose, wrapping around his shoulders.
Clang.
Playful Cloud slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground before rolling down the stone steps onto the training field.
It lay there quietly, amid the wreckage of the battlefield.
Unnoticed.
Unclaimed.
Until the next time someone would pick it up…