Chapter 2

Several years had passed since I became aware that I had turned into Zenin Naoya.

Lately, it felt like I, ore, and uchi were slowly blending together. I might have struggled with my sense of identity at first, but setting my sights on becoming Toji-kun’s future wife helped stabilize things. Fast and decisive—that’s how I roll.

Over these past few years, I devoted myself entirely to polishing my body. Both in the training sense… and in the bridal-preparation sense. Thanks to that, I could marry Toji-kun anytime without embarrassment. In that regard, I’m clearly superior to the original Zenin Naoya. That pampered brat probably left everything to servants.

Well, being born a woman of the Zenin family meant some of that training was unavoidable anyway. I wonder if Maki-chan and Mai-chan went through similar preparation?

As for physical training—

"Yo, Nobuaki-kun. Looking forward to today too."

"...Naoya-sama. Please refrain from excessive joking."

The Kukuru Unit—a combat squad made up of Zenin men born without innate techniques. Their abilities varied wildly, from top to bottom. And not a single one of them was stronger than Toji-kun.

The original story had already proven through Kusakabe that one could become strong without a cursed technique… but this felt more like a problem of family mentality.

And into that environment came me—a clearly undersized young girl, even if I was the clan head’s child. Anyone could predict how badly that should have ended.

That is—unless talent entered the equation.

"Alright then, come at me. Since you guys don’t have techniques, at least show you’ve got the guts to match."

In one-on-one combat, I practically never lost.

After all, I could move faster than my opponent. Compared to keeping up with Toji-kun’s movements every day, there was no way I’d suddenly struggle against someone merely reinforced with cursed energy.

There was only one problem.

"Too slow. Is that really your full strength? Aren’t you embarrassed being this weak? You’re men, right? Walk properly three steps ahead of a woman, you trash."

The insults just… slipped out naturally.

Let me defend myself—I wasn’t doing it on purpose. But when these pathetic idiots looked down on someone like Zenin Toji while being weaker than even me, it was hard not to say something.

I had only meant to say, How can you look down on Toji-kun when you’re this weak?

Apparently, Zenin Naoya simply wasn’t capable of indirect criticism.

No wonder my rating within the Kukuru Unit had dropped to zero stars.

Maybe this was the rumored Heavenly Restriction—your personality turns into absolute garbage in exchange for talent worthy of a Grade-1 sorcerer. Honestly, efficiency-wise, not a bad deal. Cooperation skills, however, were completely doomed.

"So? You guys just going to watch? Your buddy’s getting beaten up by a tiny girl and you’re standing there doing nothing? And you call yourselves a combat unit? Maybe you should head to Osaka and try becoming comedians instead."

Whether provoked or planning it from the start, the Kukuru Unit charged all at once.

Numbers meant power. Normally, this should have been harder than a duel.

"...Way too many openings."

Projection Sorcery.

I usually used it for acceleration, but it had another function. Anyone I touched while activating it was forced to move according to a twenty-four-frame sequence. Fail—and they froze for one second.

In real combat, adapting instantly was nearly impossible unless you belonged to that side… or were my father, who used the same technique.

In practice, touching someone meant unconditional paralysis.

I brushed past the surrounding fighters. Frozen bodies became obstacles for those behind them. As they stumbled, I touched the next, then the next. Each repetition increased my speed through Projection Sorcery—

"Alright, that’s enough. Any more and I might actually kill someone."

I stopped myself.

Against ordinary members, defeat was basically impossible. Unless I messed up my frame sequence and froze—which had never happened once since birth.

(Except when Toji-kun interfered.)

"Men who can’t walk three steps ahead of a woman might as well drop dead. Don’t you agree, Nobuaki-kun?"

"I do agree they’ve grown lax. Losing to a girl—even if she’s the clan head’s daughter—hardly suits a combat unit."

…Was that indirectly insulting me too?

Well, I couldn’t deny being a girl. And honestly, even I couldn’t guarantee victory against someone capable of trading blows with an awakened Maki.

"Well… do your best, alright? I’d prefer having plenty of sparring partners to kill time with."

"Of course. I’ll raise them enough to discipline an arrogant child who’s grown conceited from fighting weaklings."

Ah. Yeah. He definitely hates me.

"Hm. You could try disciplining me right now, you know? If you’re capable."

"Let’s refrain. Breaking limbs would be one thing, but damaging your ability to bear children would be… problematic."

"True. Even a ball-less group like yours would be in trouble if theirs actually got crushed."

From the outside, it might have looked like friendly conversation.

Content-wise, it scored negative one hundred.

Still… he really was Zenin through and through. Casual misogyny ingrained to the core. At best, you could interpret it as confidence.

Though honestly, even if I were male, nobody would like me anyway.

Why does this body only produce hostility in every direction?

(Except toward Toji-kun.)

If this really was Heavenly Restriction, I’d at least like proper compensation.

Like being able to marry Toji-kun.

Life inside a closed environment lacked stimulation, and before I knew it, I had reached the age equivalent of graduating elementary school in normal society.

The Zenin household was basically a tradition-obsessed village. Education for women was considered unnecessary, and even the men were privately instructed rather than sent to ordinary schools—wasting time on civilian education was unthinkable.

At least within the main family.

Apparently, opinions regarding me were divided. One faction insisted that since I was a woman, domestic training was sufficient. The other argued that as a potential future clan head, I required proper education befitting the family’s status.

In the end, the latter won.

If my older brothers had been slightly more competent, things might have gone differently.

Still, for someone reincarnated with prior memories, compulsory-education-level studies were unbearably dull. So these years were spent pouring my enthusiasm into sorcerer training… and spending time with Toji-kun.

And then—

"I’ve decided to leave the family. Thought I should at least tell Naobito—and you."

"...Huh?"

I already knew this would happen.

I had simply avoided thinking about it.

"You and I are leaving together?"

"Why would I take the clan head’s daughter with me? I’m leaving alone."

"You’re abandoning me!? After stealing my first time!?"

"Don’t fabricate memories. Wait… you haven’t been sneaking into my room at night, have you?"

I would have, if I could. Unfortunately, I lacked the stealth necessary to fool a Heavenly Restricted body’s senses. I really had wanted to establish irreversible facts, too…

"You’re cruel, Toji-kun. You’ll dump me, then go outside, charm women, and live off them… until someday you meet your destined partner—a beautiful black-haired woman with short hair—and end up having a kid with her, right?"

"Why is your paranoia so weirdly specific?"

"I know you won’t take me with you… so at least spend one day making memories with me?"

"...You’re not asking me to sleep with you, right?"

"You think I’m some kind of slut or something, Toji-kun? I’m not. The one doing it is—"

Rampaging.

In the world of jujutsu, there exist three great families that hold overwhelming influence.

The Gojo family, where bearers of the unique Six Eyes ability are born.
The Kamo family, monsters who maintain power through political maneuvering.
And the Zenin family—a militant clan that upholds meritocracy and technique supremacy.

In other words, my family.

The Zenin clan valued strength above all else. Even when there were no missions involving cursed spirits, most members devoted themselves to training. Of course, some—like the Kukuru Unit—trained only because they were forced to.

In any case, in a household like this, injuries weren’t unusual.

More importantly, an absurd logic prevailed: if you couldn’t respond when attacked, that was your own fault.

"Ahahaha! Seriously, Toji-kun! We should’ve done this from the start!"

"Quit your nonsense. You realize everyone’s gonna look at you funny starting tomorrow, right?"

"That’s cheap compared to how fun today is!"

Right now, I was clinging onto Toji-kun’s back.

More precisely, I kept one palm in constant contact with him.

As long as I successfully maintained movement within twenty-four frames, speed could theoretically increase without limit. And now I was personally experiencing what happened when that principle was applied to a Physical Gifted body.

"You really are amazing, Toji-kun. How the hell do you run through the air?"

"If you can do it, you can do it. That’s all."

Projection Sorcery couldn’t create physically impossible movements. Running through the air or sprinting across water would normally be judged impossible, triggering a one-second freeze.

Those were things that only existed in anime.

But what if someone existed for whom such actions weren’t physically impossible?

Like something straight out of animation, Toji kicked through empty space and ran across the sky. He leapt repeatedly through midair like a video game character—and all of it accelerated further through stacked Projection Sorcery.

Trying to respond to that was simply impossible.

As a byproduct, this experience benefited me as well.

Cursed techniques changed depending on interpretation. The restriction of Projection Sorcery—freezing when performing physically impossible actions—was no exception.

After witnessing this, running through the air and sprinting across water were no longer “physically impossible” within my own understanding.

Anyway—

Speed born from Physical Gifted ability combined with cursed technique overwhelmed everything. The Kukuru Unit stood no chance, and even technique users from the Akari division were crushed.

Only wide-area techniques—nicknamed Ugly Meteor—might’ve worked as counters. Unfortunately for them, once acceleration built up, it was already too late.

My unimpressive-technique uncle had long since been beaten into tears and unconsciousness.

"Hey there, Dad. Doing well?"

"Hah. You two certainly made quite a spectacle, Toji… Naoya."

"Just returning the favor. Besides, it’s their fault for failing to catch a single monkey."

"Fair enough."

"Wanna join too, Dad? Being left out’s lonely, right?"

"Don’t be ridiculous. The moment the Zenin clan loses to an individual, that would mean my defeat."

Personally, I was curious who would win in a real fight. Since both could construct movements, freezing wouldn’t work… so maybe Toji-kun would win? Father’s strength lay in his mastery of technique usage, after all.

"Well then, that wraps things up. What now, Toji-kun? Want Dad’s head as a souvenir?"

"Who’d want something worth less than a yen…? Though…"

In the end, Toji-kun left the clan carrying several cursed tools—the sword and chain he used in the original story, plus something unfamiliar.

Maybe they’d eventually turn into gambling money.

As expected, after that day, nobody approached me carelessly anymore. With fear of Toji-kun deeply engraved into every Zenin member—an absolutely killer joke, if I may say so—they preferred not to stir up trouble.

Instead, my interactions with Father increased, despite how busy he should’ve been as clan head.

Was it because of my connection to Toji-kun?
Parental concern for a daughter hated by the entire household?
Or simply whimsy?

Either way, I didn’t dislike him. In fact, I’d always liked the character Zenin Naobito, so it worked out well for me.

Only a few years after Toji-kun left, Father summoned me, wearing an unusually amused expression, saying he had news about Toji.

Within the Zenin clan, Father was the only one I personally maintained contact with. Meanwhile, I kept drafting and deleting messages over and over.

The classic dilemma of a girl unable to casually talk to the person she liked.

"You’re here, Naoya. About Toji… apparently he’s had a child. That child is—"

"...Huh?"

A child.

Almost certainly Fushiguro Megumi.

Father continued explaining that if the child possessed talent—meaning an inherited technique—but honestly, none of it registered.

I knew this development from the original story. Details were fuzzy, but major characters were unforgettable.

Still, let me say this anyway—

"I got NTR’d!!"

"Try sleeping with him first before saying that. I can bring you as many husbands as you want."

"If they’re not at least as strong as Toji-kun, I’m not interested."

…I thought I would be the one to go to that side.

So he really got married…
To someone other than me…

Well, no matter how tainted things became, it didn’t matter.

As long as, in the end, I could stand beside Toji-kun.

To do that…

I’d need strength capable of at least stalling Gojo Satoru.

"Dad, train me."

"Of course. You’ll need to rival the Gojo family’s child, after all."

Yeah… that made sense politically too.

The Zenin and Gojo families never got along.

"Man, life really doesn’t go smoothly! What a garbage game!"