Swatting his arm, her smile stayed put. However, after a few seconds, logic took over, causing her brow to furrow in confusion.
"But hold on," she said, looking him up and down. "Your cursed energy is practically zero. My Construction technique is incredibly inefficient; it burns through cursed energy like crazy just to make a single bullet. Even if you copy it from me, it will be completely useless. You literally don't have the fuel for it."
"You're completely right," came the immediate agreement. "Copying your technique won't do anything for me."
Blinking in genuine confusion, the playful smirk faded from her lips. She stared back, insecurities slowly creeping into those dark eyes.
"Then... why?" The question dropped into a quiet, vulnerable whisper. "If I can't make you stronger like she did... why are you even bothering with me? Why risk making Maki furious?"
Looking down at her hands, years of Zen'in trauma instantly surfaced. "I'm not strong. I'm not a close-combat monster, I don't have a Heavenly Restriction, and my cursed energy is pathetic. I'm just the useless twin. If you aren't getting a power-up out of this... what's the point?"
Ren felt bad. He hated that she looked down on herself so much. he just reached over and gently lifted her chin so she was looking right at him.
"Do you really think I came all the way to Shibuya and spent all this time with you just to farm a cursed technique?" The inquiry was soft, yet incredibly firm.
Swallowing hard, her gaze darted away slightly. "...No?"
"Good." Letting go of her chin without pulling back, he kept his focus locked on her. "Because I don't care about the technique, Mai. And I definitely don't care about comparing you to Maki. You aren't some backup plan."
Leaning back just a fraction, the air between them remained honest and simple.
"I'm sitting here because you're fun to be around," he explained. "You're cute when you get flustered, you don't take any crap from anyone, and I actually had a really great time with you yesterday. That's it. There's no hidden agenda."
A slow, shaky breath escaped her lips. The heavy, suffocating weight of always being the "useless twin" finally eased up.
There was no burst of tears or overly dramatic display. Instead, the tension completely melted from her shoulders. Flushing a bright red, a genuine, relieved smile finally broke through the tough act.
"You're so annoying," she muttered, staring at her boots, though any trace of anger was entirely absent from her voice.
Chuckling, he settled deeper into the bench. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
An eye roll followed, but she didn't pull away. Letting out a soft sigh, she closed the remaining space and rested her head against his shoulder.
Lingering on the bench for a while longer, the quiet morning was thoroughly enjoyed. Upon finally standing up to leave, her hand found his without a second of hesitation.
The walk back to the hotel was easy. By the time they reached the building, the afternoon sun had begun warming the city. Yet, the moment they stepped inside the room and the door clicked shut, the playful street energy instantly shifted. A quiet, much heavier nervous tension settled over the space.
Letting go of his hand, she took a few steps inside before turning around. Pink still dusted her cheeks, but the defensiveness was gone, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.
"So," she began softly, crossing her arms loosely. "What happens now?"
A warm smile crossed his face. Walking over to close the gap between them, he gently tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear.
"Whatever you want," he answered honestly. "I'm not in a rush."
Looking up, her gaze searched his expression for any sign of a joke or an ulterior motive. Finding none, the absolute last bit of tension evaporated from her posture.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, her arms dropped to her sides. Closing the final inch of space, she stepped her chest against him, reaching up to loosely wrap her arms around his neck.
"Then stop talking," she whispered.
Leaning down, he captured her lips. It wasn't rushed or desperate, but rather a slow, deliberate kiss proving he meant exactly what he'd said at the park.
Melting into the contact instantly, her hands tangled in his hair. She pulled him closer, kissing back with a sudden, heavy intensity.
Just as the atmosphere started to truly ignite, his hands gently found her waist. Pulling back just a fraction, he rested his forehead against hers and let out a quiet breath.
"Hold on a second," he murmured softly.
Blinking up in confusion, her slightly swollen lips parted. "What is it?"
"I didn't exactly plan for this," came the admission, paired with an apologetic smile. "I don't have any... you know, condoms on me. Do you want me to run down to the convenience store real quick?"
Before a reply could form, he searched her eyes, his expression turning a bit more serious. "Also... are you sure about this? We're moving pretty fast, Mai. It hasn't even been a week since we actually started talking."
Her eyes went wide. The romantic, intense atmosphere vanished in a flash, instantly replaced by a massive, burning blush that quickly spread across her entire face. Letting go of his neck, she took a half-step back, suddenly finding the walls fascinating.
Defense mechanisms immediately kicked into overdrive. Arms crossed tightly, and her chin lifted to project her best, most confident facade.
"What? Don't be stupid," she scoffed, though the squeak in her voice was noticeably higher than usual. "People move fast all the time. It's totally normal. It's no big deal at all."
Casually flipping her hair over her shoulder, she rigidly avoided eye contact. "Besides, I've always wanted to try it anyway. I just... couldn't find the right man for it. Until now. So it's fine."
Staring back, he had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud.
White knuckles gripped her own arms in a vice. Sporting a completely crimson face, she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot. It was the most obvious, transparent bluff ever witnessed. She was clearly out of her depth and terrified, but that stubborn Zen'in pride flatly refused to let her admit it.
"Right," he drawled slowly, playing along with a highly amused smile. "You're just very casual about all this."
"Exactly," she huffed, glaring fiercely at a random lamp in the corner of the room. "So stop asking stupid questions and go to the store. And hurry up before I change my mind."
"Yes, ma'am." Chuckling, he leaned in and pressed a quick, teasing kiss to her burning cheek. "I'll be right back."
...
Away from the bright lights of Shibuya, down in a dark, quiet underground room, a small black stone clicked softly against a wooden board.
Suguru Geto—or rather, the thing wearing his face—pulled a hand back, smiling calmly at the shogi board resting in front of him.
Across the table, Mahito kicked his feet up. Resting a stitched chin in his hands, the patchwork curse looked entirely bored, staring at the wooden pieces without really understanding the game.
"I thought the plan was already finished," the curse remarked, tilting his head. "Why are you moving things around now?"
Picking up another black piece, Kenjaku rolled it slowly between his fingers.
"The core of the plan remains exactly the same," came the smooth, relaxed reply. "Satoru Gojo is still the main target. But a good game requires you to watch the entire board, Mahito. Not just the king."
An eye roll followed. "You talk too much in riddles. Did something go wrong or not?"
Chuckling softly, the dark piece was set down on a completely different side of the board.
"Nothing has gone wrong. But an interesting little variable has popped up."
Thoughts drifted back to the fake mission orders quietly slipped into the Jujutsu High dispatch network a few days ago. Someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to send a certain Zen'in girl to Hokkaido, far away from Tokyo.
"Someone thinks they have figured out our schedule," the ancient sorcerer stated simply.
"They are making moves to protect their pieces. It is actually quite clever."
"So kill them," Mahito offered with a lazy shrug. "Send Jogo. Boom, mission accomplished."
"No," came the immediate, dismissive wave of a hand. "That would make too much noise. If Satoru Gojo notices us moving early, the entire Shibuya trap falls apart. We cannot touch this variable before the thirty-first."
Leaning forward, a creepy smile stretched across the stitched face. "Then what are you going to do?"
Looking down at the board, a hand reached out to knock over a white piece, smoothly replacing it with a black one.
"You'll see,"
Mahito let out a loud, exaggerated groan, dropping his head onto the wooden table. "Boring! You always do this. Just tell me who is messing with the board so I can go play with them."
A low, amused hum vibrated in the back of Kenjaku's throat. He didn't look up from the shogi board, but a sharp, dangerous glint flashed across his features.
"There are very few individuals who would even know where to look, let alone have the audacity to move pieces without me noticing."
Lifting his head an inch, the patchwork curse suddenly looked a bit more interested. "So? Who is it?"
Kenjaku didn't answer immediately. A sickeningly calm smile slowly stretched across his face as he gently placed the captured white piece into the pitch-black shadows just off the edge of the board.
"Someone who thinks they are playing their own game," Kenjaku whispered softly, his gaze locking onto the empty space.
///
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