Toji.
Tojiii.
Tojiiiiii.
Toji.
The sorcerer killer opened his eyes suddenly, a trace of confusion crossing his face as he scanned his surroundings. He was sitting on a comfortable sofa, and in front of him, a TV was on, playing a show he didn't find interesting enough to remember its name. To his left, the window curtains were drawn, letting the warm sunlight flood the living room.
A melodic laugh broke through his thoughts.
"Love, you're sleeping too much," said a cheerful voice, filled with sweetness.
Toji turned toward the source of the voice and saw her. The most beautiful figure he had ever seen. The only person who had pulled him out of the abyss. The woman who had driven away the resentment and hatred he harbored for his clan. The only person he truly loved.
"Naomi…" Toji murmured, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn.
Naomi Fushiguro, his wife. A completely ordinary woman, entirely detached from the world of sorcery. Toji had met her during one of his many trips to horse racing tracks, where he habitually placed large bets, always losing thanks to his notoriously bad luck.
She was direct and straightforward. The first time they talked, Naomi joined the game, and even though Toji lost every bet he placed, she consoled him by inviting him to dinner the next day. She was always the one actively trying to get close to him. Toji never understood why, but he couldn't push her away.
With his menacing aura and the scar on his face, Toji had always been the kind of man who unintentionally kept people at a distance. He wasn't trying to change that; he had long since given up on living a normal life. He was an assassin, nothing more, nothing less.
When he finally asked Naomi why she kept approaching him, her answer left him speechless. She told him she liked serious and strong men—something that would have made him leave immediately. But it was what she said next that changed him.
She had been watching him for a while, seeing him lose enormous sums of money on bets. Most would assume he was someone so rich he didn't care about the losses, that he only did it for fun. But Naomi saw something else. She saw a man who had lost his purpose. Someone trying to mask his true feelings with a fake smile.
When she finally worked up the courage to talk to him, she understood that Toji was a lonely person—not by choice, but because he had been forced to be alone. As they spoke more, she saw something others ignored: warmth and humanity. She fell in love.
Naomi wanted to give him everything he needed—understanding, companionship, and love—and she had no qualms about telling him so with her characteristic frankness.
"Come on, love, we're running late," she said, gently tugging on Toji's sleeve, pulling him back to reality.
"Late for what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "It's the weekend. I don't have any extra work that I remember."
Calmly, he let his head fall back onto the sofa and closed his eyes.
"I don't feel like moving."
Naomi let out an affectionate grunt, making a small pout. With a playful gesture, she grabbed Toji's ear and gave it a slight tug, earning a soft complaint from him.
"You're such an idiot. How could you forget something so important?"
Toji gently took her wrist to stop her.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. You know I don't dwell much on what's passed, only on what's happening now," he said serenely, releasing her wrist.
Naomi frowned, placing her hands on her hips as she looked at him with disapproval. For a long fifteen seconds, Toji avoided her gaze, visibly nervous.
"Well… maybe a hint would help jog my memory," he said, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Naomi stayed silent, lightly touching her stomach with two fingers before crossing her arms again.
"Is that enough of a hint for you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Toji's eyes widened in alarm as he abruptly stood up.
"The baby!"
"Yes, Toji, the baby," Naomi sighed. "Today we're going to the gynecologist to find out its gender."
Toji laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
"Sorry, I forgot."
"Your indifference exasperates me sometimes," Naomi sighed, trying to calm herself. Then, with a firm gesture, she began pushing Toji toward the stairs.
"Go get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes."
"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to rush me, you know? It's not like it's going to be born today. It's just a check-up," Toji muttered grumpily as he climbed the stairs.
"And don't forget the keys, love," Naomi added with a teasing laugh.
Toji tripped at her words, a vein beginning to throb on his forehead.
"This is going to be a long day…" he muttered.
"Well, it looks like it's a boy, Miss Naomi. Congratulations."
The gynecologist's voice echoed in the small ultrasound room as she observed the screen intently.
Naomi, lying on the examination table with her shirt lifted, smiled radiantly at the news. Toji, sitting beside her, held her hand a little tighter than usual, as if the moment meant far more to him than he was willing to admit.
"A boy…" Toji murmured, a small but genuine smile forming on his face.
Naomi turned to him, noticing how his typically stern expression softened, even if just for a moment.
"Did you hear that, love? We're going to have a mini Toji." Naomi's voice was filled with joy, accompanied by a light laugh. "I don't know whether to be excited or scared."
"That's not funny, Naomi," Toji replied, trying to sound indifferent, though a faint smile betrayed him.
"Do you have a name in mind for the baby?" the doctor asked while taking notes in her notebook.
Toji glanced from the doctor to Naomi, his expression contemplative.
"I'm not great at coming up with names. How about you choose?"
Naomi tenderly stroked her stomach, her eyes shimmering with a mix of emotion and joy.
"Actually, I've already thought of a name. He'll be our greatest joy, our blessing. So his name will be Megumi. Megumi Fushiguro." Her smile grew as she turned her angelic gaze toward Toji. "I think it's perfect, don't you?"
"Blessing, huh? Sounds nice... but I think it's a bit too feminine for my taste," Toji said, averting his gaze with a playful smile on his lips.
"Don't make fun of our son's name, you idiot, you idiot!" Naomi retorted, playfully hitting his arm.
Toji let out a brief chuckle.
"I was just joking."
Naomi, with a slight pout, prepared to protest again, but Toji interrupted her, leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips. The woman was left speechless, disarmed by the gesture.
"Megumi is the perfect name," he said sincerely.
"Wahhh, wahhh, wahhh..."
Toji sat in a hospital waiting room, holding a newborn in his arms. The baby's vigorous cries echoed in the room, a clear sign of good health, as the doctors had cleaned and wrapped him in a soft blanket that still carried a faint scent of lavender.
For anyone else, this would be a moment of pure joy, perhaps even one worthy of tears. But Toji simply held the baby, rocking him mechanically, his gaze fixed and vacant.
"I'm truly sorry, Fushiguro-san... Naomi wasn't able to survive the childbirth."
The doctor's voice was cautious, his words deliberate, as though fearing an outburst.
Toji remained silent for a few seconds.
"Did she say anything before... before she..." he finally whispered, unable to finish the sentence.
The doctor nodded, swallowing hard before responding with a somber tone.
"Yes. She asked me to tell you that she was sorry she couldn't stay by your side. But she wanted you to try to find happiness by raising your son. And no matter what... not to blame the baby for her death."
Toji closed his eyes slowly, his hands continuing the rhythmic rocking to soothe the child.
"I see..."
Without looking at the doctor, Toji turned on his heel and began walking toward the hospital exit.
"She also said one last thing," the doctor's voice stopped him mid-step. "She said she loved you."
Toji froze, his head lowering further. His hair obscured his face, but his deep, trembling breaths gave him away.
The doctor, uncomfortable with the sensitive moment, tried to maintain professionalism.
"Miss Naomi had registered her wish to donate her organs upon her death. The hospital needs time to process everything, but in a week, we'll transfer her body to the morgue to prepare for the burial."
He bowed deeply to Toji before hastily retreating back into the delivery room.
Toji stood there, unmoving, for several seconds. The baby's cries gradually subsided as the child sought the warmth of his father's arms. Finally, Toji let out a long sigh and walked out of the hospital.
The sun shone brightly and majestically in the clear sky—a perfect day for anyone else... except for Toji.
For him, this was the worst day of his life. Worse than any punishment he had ever received from the cursed Zenin clan. Worse than the torture and scorn. Worse than the time they condemned him to death, locked in a dark room with hundreds of curses.
The baby had finally stopped crying and now slept peacefully, nestled in his father's arms. Toji walked aimlessly through the streets, his gaze unfocused while the world around him carried on as usual.
Each step pulled him deeper into his memories.
The cinema. Where he had his second date with Naomi. It was there that she confessed her feelings for him, with a confidence that completely disarmed him.
The construction site. Where he got a job thanks to Naomi convincing some of her father's friends to hire him. It was there that he began to pull away from the world of death and violence.
The ice cream stand. Where Naomi, with a cheeky trick, pretended to clean some ice cream off his chin, only to grab his face and steal a kiss. Their first kiss.
The Centurion Hotel and Ueno Station Spa. The final destination of their honeymoon. The place where they made love for the first time.
Toji shook his head and gently hit his forehead with his free palm, trying to drive away the memories that tormented him. But it was useless. His breathing became heavy, almost suffocating.
Finally, he arrived at Ueno Park, a place as beautiful as he remembered it. He stopped in front of a solitary bench surrounded by cherry blossoms. Slowly, he sat down, careful not to wake the baby.
His hair continued to hide his eyes as couples strolled past him, laughing, flirting, and enjoying their happiness. Toji's leg began to bounce involuntarily, a nervous habit born of growing anxiety.
His instincts, honed by years of survival, had told him the truth from the very beginning: Naomi was gone. But his heart had refused to accept it until the last moment.
"Don't blame our son."
Naomi's words echoed in his mind like a relentless refrain, freezing the restless movement of his leg.
Toji closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, but he couldn't push away the thoughts that tormented him. He had told Naomi about the world of sorcery and his connection to the Zenin clan, explaining that if they had a child, the baby would likely possess a cursed energy far beyond that of an average human.
Though he wasn't an expert in sorcery, he had taught Naomi the basics—how to detect curses and track cursed energy. She had picked it up quickly, just as she did with everything else.
When their son was born, even outside the delivery room, Toji could feel a disturbance in the air. The presence of powerful cursed energy that seemed to fill every corner of the hospital. Surely Naomi had felt it too. Perhaps, even for a fleeting moment, she thought that this energy was the reason her body couldn't endure the childbirth.
Toji lowered his head.
"Fool..." he murmured, his voice trembling. "Even if that were true, I would never blame my son."
A tear fell to the ground.
"B-but..." His voice began to quiver, breaking as more tears fell uncontrollably.
Naomi's words pierced through him once more: "But I wanted you to try to find happiness raising our son..."
Toji slowly lifted his gaze, but his face was twisted in pain. His red, tear-filled eyes overflowed as his teeth bit hard into his lower lip, trying to stifle a sob that escaped in broken fragments.
"I... feel like without you, I can't be the father this little one needs..."
It was the first and last time Toji cried like that. A heartbreaking sob that erupted from the deepest part of his soul, leaving him utterly drained.
"I love you, Naomi."
A choked whisper.
"Without you... I can't truly be happy."
Toji leaned his back against a large advertisement window, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. Beside him, an old man in a yukata stood stoically, his posture calm and composed.
"By the time he's five or six, when it's clear if he has inherited a technique..." Toji spoke softly, his tone detached. "I won't care about handing him over to that damned clan. For the right price, of course."
"Heh, if he ends up with the hereditary technique, I'll give you ten million," the old man replied with amusement.
They exchanged brief glances before parting ways without another word. Toji walked through the streets, his gaze empty, his steps heavy, as though carrying an invisible burden.
"Even if this world is garbage... as long as he has talent, he'll do better than me."
His eyes grew even emptier with every step.
"I don't care anymore. Nothing matters anymore."
After Naomi's death, Toji lost all will to continue living a normal life. He found no reason to keep his job—it didn't matter to him. The only reason he'd done it before was for her.
For a few years, Toji tried to take care of his son. He tried to be a good father, focusing on the small joys and attempting to build something that could be called a family, no matter how incomplete it felt. But, though he would never admit it—and though he despised himself for it—Toji knew that the love he felt for Megumi was but a pale shadow compared to the immense love he had for Naomi.
He often found himself lost in dark thoughts, wondering if his love for Megumi would ever be enough to mend the wounds he carried. No matter how hard he tried, the painful memories always consumed him. The image of Naomi—her laughter, her voice, everything she represented—remained a flame that burned him silently.
The hatred he felt for his clan, buried but never forgotten, resurfaced with every thought of what they had stolen from him. Of the life he could have had if they hadn't existed. That hatred was a poison, and each time he felt it, it pushed him further toward his true nature: combat, death, violence.
As time passed, Toji came to a bitter realization. He wasn't the father Megumi needed. He couldn't be. The love he felt for his son wasn't enough to fill the void Naomi had left behind, and he knew that if he stayed with him, that same emptiness would eventually drag them both down.
Finally, he made a decision.
He sent Megumi to live with Naomi's relatives. It was a silent farewell, without explanations—just a promise to send money every month for his care. Toji couldn't be there. He couldn't drag his son into the darkness that consumed him.
When Naomi died, she took a part of Toji's soul and heart with her. The only person he had ever loved, the only one who had kept him away from the abyss, was gone. Without her, nothing stopped him from returning to the man he had always been: an assassin.
As he watched little Megumi walk away, another piece of him died. But he convinced himself this was the only way to protect him.
His nature... was something he couldn't allow his son to witness.
Toji closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. When he opened them, his gaze was harder, emptier. He continued walking through the bustling city, his silhouette fading into the crowd.
"Do you have any last words?" asked a white-haired teenager, levitating in the air, the sun shining behind him and giving him the appearance of a divine figure.
Toji slowly raised his head, his face worn by exhaustion.
"No, thank you," he responded indifferently, his voice heavy, as though drained of life.
Standing before him was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer in the world—and his executioner.
His left torso was torn open, a gaping hole where flesh and bone once were. His arm hung limp, severed by the young sorcerer's devastating attack. Toji wavered but kept his eyes steady.
"Actually..." he murmured, his mind racing through every moment of his life. "I do have something to say."
Satoru watched him curiously, floating closer to listen.
Toji raised his gaze, his thoughts consumed by Naomi, as always. He had failed her. Her greatest wish was to have a happy family with him and their son, but he hadn't been able to fulfill it.
There were no words to apologize, but perhaps, just perhaps, he could do something to protect little Megumi.
"In two or three years, the Zenin clan will buy my son," Toji said, his voice weak but firm. His eyes met Satoru's glowing blue ones. "I know you'll know what to do... after all, you're the strongest."
And so, the mercenary's life came to an end. He died standing like a warrior—but also as a miserable father. If he had one wish, it would be to go to wherever his wife was, even if only for a moment. To speak with her one last time, even if it was just to hear her curse him for his actions. He only wanted to hear her voice again, knowing full well he wouldn't be going to the same place. His destination was hell.
In the world of sorcery, everyone dies with regrets.
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Toji was in shock. His eyes opened wide as he regained a brief moment of consciousness.
The instinct that had suppressed his murderous intent wasn't his assassin's drive—it was his paternal instinct. Within him, the power of the ritual demanded control, urging him to return to the frenzied state he had been in. But Toji silenced it for just a little while longer.
A faint smile appeared on his lips, and his voice came out low, calm.
"Hey, kid... what's your name?"
About three meters in front of him, the young sorcerer stood with his fists clenched, raised in a summoning stance. Beside him, Maki stood in a defensive pose, ready to act if something went wrong. Both of them raised their eyebrows, confused by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Still, the young man obeyed cautiously, without lowering his guard.
"Megumi... Megumi Fushiguro," he answered, his voice tense.
Toji's smile widened.
"So, you're not a Zenin." He chuckled softly, closing his eyes with something that looked like... satisfaction. "Then, that albino brat kept his word."
Megumi blinked, confused.
"Albino...? Are you talking about Gojo-sensei?"
Toji ignored him and turned his attention to the girl. His gaze sharpened, but his tone wasn't threatening—more curious than anything.
"You, girl... I heard earlier that you're a Zenin. But I can tell your strength doesn't come from cursed energy. You're like me. Why do you stay with that damned clan?"
The girl steadied her trembling stance, letting out a feigned scoff of amusement.
"I abandoned that name a long time ago. If this idiot keeps calling me that, it's not my fault."
Megumi flinched slightly.
"Sorry, it's just a habit."
"Habit?" Maki responded, clenching her teeth and raising her fist as if ready to hit him. "I literally tell everyone not to call me by my last name."
A vein popped on Megumi's forehead, his irritation matching hers.
"I meant a habit of courtesy! We're from different generations—it's natural to address people formally by their..."
Toji's relaxed laughter interrupted the argument. Both turned to him, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"So neither of you are Zenin," he muttered, his smile softening as he raised the hand holding the sharp metal spear.
BAM.
With a quick, decisive movement, Toji stabbed his own heart. Blood splattered onto his shirt, pouring out in torrents that grew weaker with each passing beat.
Both sorcerers widened their eyes in shock and confusion. Who wouldn't, after watching a man who had just been trying to kill them savagely suddenly calm down and then stab himself?
Toji looked at them one last time, a wide smile etched on his face, indifferent to the pain of his fatal wound.
"I'm glad to hear that..." Toji's voice began to fade, barely a whisper that seemed to dissolve into the air. "It was nice meeting you. My name is Toji Fushiguro."
His eyelids grew heavier, his exhausted body slowly leaning forward.
Megumi's eyes widened in shock. His mind was completely frozen, unable to process what he had just heard. He could only let out incoherent murmurs, trapped between confusion and disbelief.
"I'm sorry... for not being there for you when I should have been," Toji said, his voice fragile but laden with sincerity. "And I'm even sorrier... that I couldn't come to my senses before attacking you."
He closed his eyes tightly, forcing out the words as life slipped away from him.
"I'm just a weak man... too much of a coward to abandon my nature."
Using the last bit of clarity he had left, Toji turned to Maki, a faint smile on his face.
"And you, girl..."
Maki, battered and covered in burns, barely managed to lift her head. Her breathing was heavy, and blood dripped from several cuts on her face and arms. She visibly struggled to focus her gaze on Toji.
"W-what...?" she asked weakly, almost automatically.
"You fought me hand to hand. You even managed to make me bleed."
Maki's eyes widened slightly, despite the pain she clearly felt with every movement.
"Not bad... girl." A final, satisfied smile spread across Toji's face.
The mercenary's body collapsed onto his knees, and his breathing stopped. Despite everything that had happened that day, Toji was grateful for the opportunity to see what kind of person his son had become.
He tilted his head back to gaze at the sky, holding onto the faint hope that, maybe, he might be allowed to reunite with his beloved Naomi.
"If you could see me now... would you be angry?" he thought as his consciousness began to fade.
A glimmer of light caught his attention. At the end of the destroyed street, amidst the rubble and flames, his gaze focused on a figure.
There she was. Beautiful and radiant, just as he remembered. Naomi was smiling at him—a soft, warm smile that always managed to calm his heart.
A faint smile returned to Toji's lips. Perhaps it was just a delusion, a comforting illusion created by his mind. But even so, it brought him one last moment of joy.
The mercenary's body fell to the ground, lifeless.
Everything went silent. The battle was over.
A miracle had allowed that man to regain his consciousness just when his enemies had no strength left. Neither of the two sorcerers said a word. Seconds passed as they stood before the man's corpse, the sound of the flames consuming the street their only companion.
When Megumi's mind finally snapped back to the present, he panicked and rushed toward the mercenary's body.
"Wait!" he shouted, grabbing the man's shirt and pulling him over to face upward.
When he saw his face, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"What...? Who are you?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Maki, still dazed, tried to move. Her body protested immediately, and she let out a soft groan of pain as she tried to support herself on a trembling leg. She gritted her teeth, fighting against the burns and wounds that sent sharp stabs of pain through her with every movement.
"Fushiguro... what's happening...?" she asked weakly as she limped toward him.
She fell heavily to her knees beside Megumi, gasping from the effort. Even so, she leaned closer to the mercenary's body, though every motion seemed to cost her dearly.
"What the hell...?" she murmured, her voice tinged with confusion and frustration.
Their bewilderment was understandable. Toji's face had completely changed. His once black hair was now a lighter, shorter shade of brown. His once imposing physique had diminished drastically. What lay before them looked like an entirely different person.
"Who was this guy...? Was this some kind of cursed technique?" Megumi asked, inspecting the body for any clues.
"He said his name was Toji Fushiguro," Maki said, crossing her arms with effort, her tone reflective yet tense. "He seemed to know you... and that old geezer Naobito too. Based on what he said earlier... there's only one way to interpret it. He was your family."
Maki frowned, trying to piece things together.
"Now that I think about it... his face did resemble yours. Those dead fish eyes are very characteristic of you."
A vein popped on Megumi's forehead at the comment.
"This isn't the time for that, Maki!"
Maki raised her hands in a gesture of surrender but couldn't help letting out a faint scoff.
Both remained silent as they tried to comprehend what had just happened. Before them lay the body of a man whose presence had radically altered the course of their lives, though they still didn't fully understand how or why.
Maki turned her head toward the sorcerer, her serious expression barely masking her exhaustion.
"I think this person was your fath—"
"Toji Fushiguro, formerly known as Toji Zenin," Megumi interrupted in a monotone voice as he pressed his ribs lightly with one hand. "He was a mercenary who, according to everyone, died many years ago."
He paused for a moment, clenching his jaw as if debating internally. Finally, he exhaled and continued.
"And yes... he was also my father. That's all I knew about him. Besides his name and his profession, I never bothered to learn more."
Maki raised an eyebrow, surprised, but Megumi continued before she could respond.
"When Gojo-sensei took me in—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Maki interrupted, grabbing him by the shoulders impulsively. "You just drop a bomb like that on me, casually?" She shouted, a mix of disbelief and annoyance in her voice. "You're a Zenin?! Why didn't you tell me? That means we're cousins! That's important information for your superior!"
Megumi grunted lightly, averting his gaze.
"I thought you already knew. The Ten Shadows technique is a hereditary ability of the Zenin clan."
With a slight movement, he freed himself from Maki's grasp. She clicked her tongue in frustration.
"Do you really think the clan gave someone like me any important information?" she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms before adding bitterly, "I was lucky to get a moldy piece of bread for breakfast."
Her gaze returned to Toji's lifeless body, her tone becoming more thoughtful.
"Maybe there's something in that information about your father too."
Megumi shook his head slowly, straightening himself with effort.
"I'm not interested. He was never important in my life."
Maki observed silently as Megumi began to walk away.
"Suit yourself," she said after a brief pause, sighing before following him with slower, more deliberate steps.
When she finally caught up, Megumi spoke, his tone low and reflective.
"He was the one who convinced Gojo-sensei to adopt me and take me away from that clan."
Maki turned slightly toward him but didn't interrupt.
"Even though I never saw him with my own eyes, I knew he always sent money to my uncles. Even after they died, he kept sending money to the orphanage where my sister and I were sent." His voice tightened as his fists clenched. "If it weren't for him, my sister's life would have been like yours... or even worse."
Maki stayed quiet, letting his words linger in the air before nodding slightly.
"Yeah... I think that's probably true."
Megumi continued, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"When we fought him, his eyes were black. It's clear he was tied to some kind of resurrection ritual. He was probably being controlled the whole time."
Maki nodded, processing his words.
"Makes sense." Her tone was neutral, though her mind was still racing. "The only time he spoke to us was when his eyes returned to normal. That means he never wanted to fight us."
Megumi relaxed his clenched fists, his posture less tense now.
"He chose to take his own life rather than keep fighting us... fighting me."
Maki cracked a small smile, though she seemed more exhausted than mocking.
"Maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought."
Megumi closed his eyes, letting the words resonate within him. He then took a long breath, despite the pain, and exhaled slowly.
"I don't forgive that he abandoned us," his tone was firm, but without bitterness. "But I don't hate him anymore."
He opened his eyes, this time with a resolve that seemed clearer than before.
"And, without a doubt, I prefer to be a Fushiguro than a Zenin."
Maki let out a small laugh—or at least tried to. The pain in her abdomen forced her to stop, turning her laughter into a mix of coughs and groans.
"W-well, that makes two of us," she said, her voice strained but still tinged with humor.
Megumi stayed silent for another moment, but one last thought crossed his mind.
"He said you were similar to him... so, are you a complete heavenly restriction too? Do you have no trace of cursed energy?"
Maki scratched the back of her neck and made a face of mild irritation.
"Nah, not even close. His strength was monstrously superior to mine." She shook her head with a faint smile of self-awareness. "I still have some cursed energy, no matter how small it is. But that doesn't mean I can't keep improving." Her expression sharpened, filled with determination. "Sooner or later, I'll reach that level too. I swear it."
For a moment, her mind drifted to an event in the past that reaffirmed her promise:
"Why did you abandon me?"
"I never wanted to be a sorcerer! Your relentless drive to improve forced me to do the same! I just wanted a normal life!"
...Why didn't you crumble with me?
Maki closed her eyes for an instant, letting the memory fade before muttering to herself:
"I have a sister I want to protect too... and get her out of that hellhole."
Megumi nodded, empathizing with the sorceress's situation.
"You have my full support, Maki-senpai."
Maki sighed, letting a small hint of weariness slip into her voice.
"Whatever. We need to pick up the pace and find Nanao before things get any worse—"
BOOM.
The sound thundered through the air, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
Megumi's eyes widened in shock, adrenaline coursing through his veins like lightning. Something had struck Maki in the face, sending her flying several meters away from him.
"Maki!" he shouted, turning toward her, but his movements froze when an unfamiliar voice interrupted.
"Well, well... what do we have here?" The voice was deep but strangely mocking. "You look like some kind of hairless monkey."
Megumi's heart sank into his chest.
"Of course, my luck can't get any worse."
He turned slowly, his breath ragged and cold sweat running down his body. His hands trembled as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.
When he finally saw the intruder, he was completely paralyzed.
Standing about seven meters away was what could only be described as... a zebra. But it wasn't just any zebra. It stood roughly 1.30 meters tall, with absurdly large eyes that seemed far too expressive to be real.
"Looks like you've made quite a mess here," the zebra said, tilting its head with a confident smile that quickly shifted into a stern expression. "But unfortunately, you're not going anywhere now."
It stepped forward, its gaze growing sharper.
"You're coming with us."
Megumi's mind snapped back into high alert, and his eyes darted toward Maki. To his horror, he saw another zebra, slightly larger than the first, struggling with her.
Maki was trying to resist, but her movements were clumsy and clearly affected by the earlier blow. Despite her condition, she continued to fight with all her strength.
Megumi's body trembled—not from exhaustion this time, but from sheer bewilderment. His gaze returned to the zebra in front of him, and the only words he managed to whisper were:
"What the hell are these things...?"