01| Kenjaku

Night crept across the city like an open wound as Suguru Geto crossed the threshold. His gait was calm, elegant, almost human. But within that body, there was no trace of the man she had loved. Kenjaku watched through those familiar eyes, memorizing every reaction, every breath in the place… and her own. “You were always careful ,” he thought. “That’s why you would never help me willingly. ” She looked up, sensing his presence. Her heart recognized the evil before her mind. The face was the same, the voice, the posture… but something was wrong. Something profoundly wrong. Her lips trembled, and in a whisper broken by nostalgia, she uttered his name. “Suguru… ” The world went dark in that instant. Her body yielded to memory rather than fear, collapsing to the floor as if the past had claimed her. Kenjaku smiled. Not with open cruelty, but with a quiet, calculated satisfaction. “Just as I thought.” He caught her before her head hit the ground and lifted her into his arms. The contact was intimate, almost respectful. An exquisite mockery. He knew she was a first-class sorceress, strong, proud, impossible to sway with words. She would never have supported his plan of chaos, of forced evolution, of a broken world to be reborn differently. But love… love was something else. As he watched her unconscious, tracing her features, Kenjaku mentally reviewed his strategy. He didn't need her help. He only needed to break her. To confuse her heart. To use the memories of Geto like soft blades, sinking them in little by little. "He loved you ," he murmured, using her voice. "And I will use that. " He stroked a lock of her hair with an almost obscene delicacy. There was no real tenderness in the gesture, only possession. Horror disguised as comfort. He knew that when she awoke, she would doubt. Herself. Him. What she felt. And in that crack, Kenjaku would plant his will. Because he himself would love her in a cruel way: by using her.

Before his final downfall, Suguru Geto maintained a close bond with a first-degree sorceress whose presence represented one of the last anchors to his humanity. She was not just an ally or a romantic partner: she was the space where Geto could exist without ideology, without hatred, without the weight of the jujutsu world on his shoulders. Their relationship was built on calm. Long conversations, shared silences, glances that spoke louder than any promise. Geto allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, to show himself as tired, contradictory, even lost. She witnessed his inner turmoil long before the rest of the world labeled him a monster. She didn't try to change him, but she thought she understood him. That was her greatest mistake… and her greatest weakness. The relationship remained unfinished. There was no closure, no goodbye, no certainty. Geto slowly broke down, and she was left trapped between love, guilt, and the eternal question of whether she could have done more.

Kenjaku inherited something more dangerous than memories or techniques: he inherited that emotional bond. He quickly understood that she would never join his cause willingly. Her morale and strength made her a potential threat. But her unfinished love made her vulnerable. Kenjaku doesn't force her. He disorients her. He uses fragments of Geto's memory: words only he knew, subtle gestures, specific silences. He never claims to be Geto, but neither does he completely deny it. He allows her to want to believe. The manipulation thrives on ambiguity. In close proximity, Kenjaku invades her emotional space with surgical precision: lingering glances, a low voice using her name, a familiarity that awakens involuntary memories. He doesn't seek physical desire, but rather emotional confusion. He wants her body and mind to react before her judgment. Kenjaku understands that as long as she hesitates—as long as she can't completely hate him—she won't act against him.