Jujutsu Dragon Emperor Chapter 4 - Maki & Mai

The noise inside the arena was defaningly loud. Shouts, stomps, and the dull rumble of hundreds of people packed into a place that wasn't supposed to exist. On the surface it looked like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse tucked into the back streets of Tokyo, but beneath the surface it opened into a wide pit surrounded by food stands, poker setups, betting booths. Here was where Tokyo's underground fighting ring thrived.

To the untrained eye it might have looked like a normal fight club but but that was just the surface. The truth was most of the organisers and fighters were curse users, and many in the crowd were too. Only the lowest tier gamblers were regular humans, they thought they were watching brawlers beat each other half to death.

The announcer's voice cut through the roar of the crowd. He stood above the pit with a microphone, waving one hand in the air while the other slapped against his chest to rile everyone up.

"Tokyooooooooooooooooo!" he shouted, dragging the word out until the stands shook with answering cries. "You came here for blood, and blood is what you're gonna get tonight!"

The crowd howled back, stamping their feet against the iron stands until the whole floor vibrated.

The announcer grinned and leaned over the railing. "We've got two men stepping into the pit tonight. Two fighters who don't know the meaning of mercy. The first—" he jabbed a finger down toward the cage door, "—you know him, you've seen him crush skulls before. No fancy tricks, no flashy technique, just raw power running through every inch of his body. He's the man who doesn't need a weapon because his fists are stronger than steel. He is the brute, the beast, the breaker of bones—Katsuro Rengara!"

The door to the cage slammed open and the man stepped out. Katsuro was broad across the shoulders, his arms swollen with muscle, his knuckles wrapped in white tape stained from older fights. His skin was covered in scars. He stomped forward and slammed both fists against his chest before flexing, grinning at the crowd as they chanted his name. He lifted one arm high and then pointed at the cage floor as if daring his opponent to come meet him there.

The announcer waited until the noise swelled again before lifting his other hand. "But every monster meets a man worse than him. And tonight, we've got something special. A fighter from one of the old bloodlines, stepping down from his high tower to show us all what real power looks like. You know the name he carries, but you won't hear it here. Because down here, he's got a new one. They call him—" the announcer stretched the pause, letting the crowd lean forward with impatience, "—the Tyrant!"

The second door slid open and Naoto stepped through. Wearing a black compression shirt clinging to his frame and fitted black trousers tucked into plain boots. Over his face was a featureless mask, hiding any expression he might have worn. His hands were wrapped, and when he entered the pit he didn't raise them for the crowd or posture like Katsuro. He walked straight in and rolled his shoulders once before stopping on his side of the ring.

The crowd split down the middle. Some cheered for Katsuro, some roared at the arrival of the Tyrant, and many shouted for blood without caring who gave it to them. The announcer laughed into the microphone. "This is what you came for, Tokyo. The brute versus the Tyrant. Let's see who leaves this pit on his feet!"

The cage doors clanged shut and the noise hit a fever pitch.

Naoto sighed as he found himself in this position once again. It had been a long six years since Toji had left, bur Naoto had not stopped training for a second. If anything he threw himself into it even harder than before considering that he'd just lost one of his teachers. But without the Clan favour things were a little more difficult than before, but Naoto was nothing if perseverant. He could now comfortably handle three boosts to his body without falling down and crying, he was also developing a bit of muscle now that he'd entered puberty.

One thing he was lacking.

Martial arts

Naoto had the Hanma bloodline, but that was useless if he didn't take advantage of it. The people at the Zenin clan typically only used one martial art, Naoto found that to be a waste and so he wanted to learn more. In the end he decided finding a teacher wouldn't help, no he had to fight others; in doing so he would learn the styles that would help and add to his whole sharpening his own skills.

Though that wasn't the only reason he was here.

The Tokyo Underground fighting ring was a pretty large organisation and they had quite a lot of wealth and influence. Naoto needed the former since he'd fallen out of favour, plus he didn't want to rely on his families wealth forever. If he was going to get out from their thumb he would need his own wealth, and he had managed to build up quite a bit of it in the past six months fighting here. But in the end wealth was inconsequential, what he was really after was a book.

This wasn't just any book however, this was a tome written in the Heien era by a Special Grade sorcerer who specialised in talismans and seals. He created a book called 'The Bodies Almanac' Naoto needed that book, he'd hit a dead end in his research and hopefully this would reignite it. The organisers in this ring tell the fighters all the same thing, if they can beat the reigning champion then they can choose their prize.

So that's why he was here slumming it with a bunch of degenerates. All for the sake of progress, plus it was pretty good therapy to bash peoples face in.

Katsuro smirked as he looked Naoto up and down. His voice carried easily over the noise of the crowd, rough and mocking.

"What is this?" he shouted, spreading his arms wide as if showing Naoto off to the stands. "They put a kid in here with me? You hiding behind that little mask because you don't want anyone to see the tears when I break you in half?"

Laughter rippled through the closer rows, the brute feeding on it. He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "I'm gonna finish this quick, boy. Don't worry, I'll make sure they drag you out in one piece—maybe."

Naoto didn't move. He stood with his arms crossed, his head tilted slightly as if weighing how long he'd have to listen before the fight actually started. He didn't answer, didn't rise to the taunts, and the silence only irritated Katsuro further.

The announcer leaned forward, voice booming again. "You heard him, folks. The brute thinks he's got this one wrapped up before it even starts. But let's see if the Tyrant agrees! Are you ready for the fight of the night?"

The stands shook with stomps and screams. The announcer raised his arm and slashed it downward. "Then let's begin!"

Katsuro roared as cursed energy burst from his body, swirling thick around his arms and chest until his whole frame seemed swollen. He pushed off the ground and the stone beneath his feet cracked from the force. His charge was a straight line, all power and no thought, his fist cocked back to cave Naoto's head in with a single blow.

Naoto shifted. One small step to the side and the punch hammered past him, smashing into the floor and sending a crater of dust and shards up into the air. Katsuro ripped his arm free and swung again, another massive fist that cut through nothing but wind as Naoto slipped away, ducking under and rolling aside. Each strike that followed carried the same weight, every missed blow blasting dents into the pit floor and walls.

For a moment it looked like something out of a gladiatorial fight, due to the sheer difference in their sizes and ridiculousness of it; people were already holding their heads in their hands for betting on Tyrant.

Katsuro punched again and again and snarled louder with every miss, his swings growing wilder, his foot stomps turning the ground into uneven rubble. "Stop running, brat!" he bellowed, his face twisted red with anyer. He slammed both fists down in front of him, the ground splitting open with the impact. "Stand and fight me like a man instead of dodging like a coward!"

Naoto eased back. In his head he made a note of Katsuro's fighting style—the brute's reliance on cursed reinforcement, the complete lack of feints or strategy, the blind swinging power that could flatten weaker opponents but fell apart against anyone with real control. There was nothing here worth copying, he was literally just a toddler throwing a tantrum, just on a larger scale.

"Man what a waste of time," Noato muttered to himself as he took a deep breath. "Looks like I'm going to have to end this."

Katsuro managed to hear both of those sentences and it did nothing but enrage the man. "You little insect! IM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!" He shrieked.

Katsuro roared and bolted forward, his arms cocked back wide as his cursed energy poured into his muscles, and he tried to smash his forearm down across Naoto's head. Naoto slipped under it and stepped straight into his space, his fist crashing into Katsuro's stomach once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Katsuro bent forward with a grunt, and Naoto's knee came up into his jaw, snapping his head back.

Before he could recover, Naoto seized his wrist, twisted, and wrenched it behind his back, then slammed his body forward with his shoulder into the dirt. Katsuro rolled onto his side and tried to scramble up, but Naoto was already on him, his foot driving into his ribs, then his shin sweeping across his arm and knocking it flat against the floor. Naoto pressed down with his heel, keeping him pinned for a moment before yanking him up by the head and smashing his fist into his face twice more before shoving him back down.

Katsuro staggered upright again, bellowing in frustration, and he swung his right arm in a wide arc aimed at Naoto's temple. Naoto ducked under it easily, turned his hips, and drove his elbow into Katsuro's chest, following with a punch to the liver. Katsuro's arms dropped reflexively, and Naoto took that opening to slam his forehead into the bridge of his nose. Blood sprayed, and before Katsuro could even fall, Naoto caught his shoulder, spun him around, and threw him into the ground with his whole body again l.

The impact shook the floor, and Katsuro rolled over clutching his chest. Naoto stepped in without pause, dropping his knee into Katsuro's stomach, then standing and stomping his ribs once more before letting him roll away. The brute tried to swing upward from the floor, but Naoto simply caught his arm, twisted it behind his back again, and used the leverage to drive his knee into the back of Katsuro's head and slam his face into the dirt.

The man groaned, spat, and forced himself up again. His fists shook as he raised them, cursed energy surging harder, and he tried to bull-rush Naoto with sheer power. He drove a straight punch for Naoto's face, but Naoto leaned aside and trapped the arm between his body and elbow, immediately hammering four short punches into Katsuro's ribs. Katsuro grunted, his knees starting to give, and Naoto pivoted behind him, wrapping his arm around Katsuro's neck and jerking him back into a choke. Katsuro thrashed, swung an elbow back, but Naoto ducked it, hooked his leg inside Katsuro's, and wrenched him backward, throwing him flat onto the ground once more. Naoto let go and immediately stomped his back, then knelt and drove his fist into Katsuro's jaw, then his eye, then his jaw again, each hit cracking out into the ring.

The brute rolled to the side, coughing and heaving, his arms weak as he tried to push himself up. Naoto grabbed his ankle, lifted it, and kicked him hard in the stomach while still holding his leg, flipping him awkwardly onto his back. Katsuro flailed his arms trying to catch Naoto, but Naoto slipped in, dropped his hips, and hammered a straight punch into the man's sternum, then grabbed his wrist, twisted again, and yanked him into another knee to the face. Katsuro collapsed flat onto the floor, groaning, his cursed energy sputtering, his body covered in injuries.

It was clear the man was not getting up again, so Naoto stepped back and waited for the announcer to do his job.  "And it's over! Victory goes to the Tyrant!" The crowd erupted, some cheering wildly while others cursed under their breath at the loss of their bets. Money and tickets were thrown down in frustration, and the winning side surged with excitement.

Naoto didn't so much as glance back at the crowd. He turned, stepped through the gate, and walked down the narrow hallway that led toward the locker rooms. Once inside, the noise of the arena dulled into a distant roar. He pulled the mask free and set it on the bench before stripping off his black compression shirt. He reached for the towel and was about to head toward the showers when the door creaked open.

A man stepped inside, tall and thin with slicked-back hair, his smile was stretched wide, his eyes glinting like he'd just found a coin on the street. "Once more, an impressive win, Zenin-san," he said smoothly.

"Call me Tyrant," Naoto cut him off without turning. He set the shirt down and faced him. "I'm not Zenin here."

The man's smile never wavered. "Of course, of course. Tyrant it is. Here are your winnings." He produced a thick envelope and waved it lightly before placing it on the bench. "Quite large, as you can see. Many people bet against you today."

Naoto took the envelope and slipped it into his bag without even checking. "When can I fight the champion?"

The man's brows arched slightly. "Ah, not so simple, I'm afraid. There's an order to these things. A big fight is only big if it's built up properly, you understand? If a relative unknown takes a shot too soon, the crowd doesn't care. The excitement fades." He leaned against the doorway, fingers drumming against the frame. "You need to build your reputation first. Of course... there are other ways to speed that process up. If you reconsidered some... extra work for us."

Naoto's scowl deepened. "I'll pass. At least give me some harder opponents. The ones you've been feeding me are too fragile."

The man chuckled softly. "Of course, of course. I'll see what I can do." He straightened his tie, then pointed toward the door. "There's a car waiting to take you home."

Naoto gave a single nod. The man's grin lingered a moment longer before he finally turned and slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, Naoto exhaled slowly. People like that disgusted him—the way they talked, the way they smiled, always angling for something. The underground ring wasn't just fights. It was a web of shady dealings, and every time he stepped into it, they tried to pull him deeper. Work this job, kill this person, collect this debt. He had refused every time, and he wasn't planning to change. He showered quickly, dried off, and dressed in clean clothes before slinging his bag over his shoulder. When he stepped outside, the car was waiting, the driver not even meeting his eyes as he slid into the back seat. The city lights passed by through the window, the neon glow of Tokyo's underbelly reflecting against the glass.

Naoto leaned his head against the seat, watching the blur of buildings and traffic. He wondered if he was doing enough. Fighting here was one thing, but was it really progress? He'd been putting so much time into talismans, trying to force something new into existence, and he couldn't tell if it was worth the effort or a waste of time.

"I'll just have to see," he thought to himself, his reflection staring back at him in the window as the car carried him back toward the Zenin compound.

...

Naoto entered through the compound gates late into the night. The guards stepped aside without comment, though they gave him a glance that lingered longer than usual. He ignored it and continued walking. His mind was on getting to his room, getting changed, and finishing the last few notes on the talisman work he had been focused on before he had left for Tokyo.

He stopped halfway down the corridor.

The sound reached him immediately. Screaming. Not angry shouting, but pained, drawn-out cries from deep inside the main house. He dropped the small bag he carried and moved quickly toward it, his pace turning into a sprint as the noise grew louder. Turning down one hallway after another, he finally reached a crowd of people standing outside a large room. There were servants gathered near the back, whispering to each other, their eyes darting nervously toward the door. Clan members were closer to the front. Among them he saw his father, beside him was Naoya who stood with a straight back, his hands at his sides, though his eyes flicked toward the door with more irritation than concern. His uncle Ogi was also there too, he looked the most concerned out of everyone there.

Naoto stopped and started trying to make sense of the scene. Before he could speak, Mirajane pushed through the group and hurried to him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him "You're back," she said quickly, looking him up and down. "Did it go well?"

"It did," Naoto said, giving her a nod before shifting his gaze past her. "What's happening? Did someone get hurt?"

Mirajane followed his eyes, then looked back at him. "Your uncle's wife went into labour a few hours ago."

Naoto blinked once. 'Shit how did I forget...'

Maki and Mai.

It hit him immediately. He had known his uncle's wife was pregnant, but he had pushed it out of his thoughts over the past months. He had grown so used to focusing only on his training, and his studies that family matters had felt distant. But time had seemingly flown by and she was giving birth right now. That meant his cousins were about to be born.

He clenched his teeth. He remembered what happened to Maki and Mai. The former would have a heavenly restriction and the latter would have barely any talent at all. He couldn't let the same cycle repeat. He had seen what the clan did to children like Maki. They pushed, they discarded, they separated, and they broke people down until they were what the clan wanted them to be. He had watched Naoya turn into exactly what the clan desired—arrogant, dismissive, certain that everyone else was beneath him, and he was the clan heir!

For someone like them they'd no doubt be subject to all manner of abuse. He didn't know his Uncle Ogi too well but from what Mirajane had told him he wasn't a very pleasant man. Under him he couldn't imagine the girls living a good life. He didn't want that for Maki and Mai. He didn't want them growing up like that. They were his family, and right now they were only minutes into life. That gave him a chance. If he could protect them, if he could put himself in their lives early enough, maybe he could keep them from ending up like the others, or like their fates in canon.

The question was whether he had the strength to do it.

If it came down to his father, the answer was no. He knew that clearly, his father was an expert in using projection sorcery and was as of now the fastest sorcerer in Japan. Against his uncle Ogi and the other elders, he wasn't certain. That uncertainty alone made him uneasy. He had made progress, he had trained his body and his cursed technique relentlessly, but he wasn't strong enough yet to stand at the top of this compound. Against most of the others, he could fight and win. Against the strongest elders, it was still fifty-fifty.

Naoto kept his arms crossed and his eyes on the floor as the thought pressed at him. He couldn't act carelessly, but he couldn't do nothing either.

Then the sound hit him.

A baby's cry.

The entire crowd stiffened at once. Some of the servants let out quiet gasps and started to whisper. Ogi stood straighter as he waited for the doctor to let them inside. Looking at his father he could see some slight concern, he wasn't surprised, if Ogi's children had some great sort of talent or they had the ten shadows then they might reconsider who the next head will be.

"Can we go now?" Naoya said to hid father, uncaring of who heard him.

Naobito slapped the back of his head. "Be respectful, these are your cousins,"

Jinichi Zenin, who had been sitting on a step with his arms resting lazily on his knees, spoke without looking up. "Could've come after the whole thing was over."

"Enough," Naobito said. "We're here to greet the children and pay respects to Ogi. That is what we'll do."

Ogi stood near the door, hands behind his back. He heard every word but stayed silent. His thoughts churned. The birth of his children could change everything. He'd spent years positioning himself as a contender for clan head, and this moment could make or break his ambitions.

Naoto stepped forward. His father noticed him and scowled. "I'm surprised you showed up. Decided to remember your family existed?"

Naoto rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Naobito didn't let it go. "Where were you? You left this morning and now you just wander in without a word."

"Does it matter?" Naoto asked without looking at him.

Before Naobito could respond, another voice cut in. "You'll answer when your elder speaks to you," Yojin Zenin said. He stepped forward. Naobito's cousin. Older, broad, and always trying to speak with more authority than he actually had. "You think you're above the rules just because you're the clan heads son?"

Naoto looked over. "Shut up your old ass up. No one was talking to you."

Yojin blinked. "What did you just say to me?"

Naoya laughed behind his hand.

Naobito growled. "Don't speak to the elders like that. I tolerate your rudeness because you're my son, but don't expect the rest of them to. They have no reason to allow it."

Naoto stayed silent. He didn't care about Yojin or the elders. They were stuck in the past, obsessed with power and lineage. He'd seen enough of their hypocrisy to know their words meant nothing. Respect was earned, not demanded, and none of them had earned his.

Naobito stared at him. Naoto could see it from the corner of his eye, though it wasn't an expression he recognised.

"Ogi-sama your wife has given birth. To twin girls," the doctor said.

Whispers immediately spread among the servants and lower-ranking clan members. Twins were bad luck when it came to sorcery. The elders exchanged looks but said nothing. Naobito's brow creased slightly. Naoya's smirk vanished by annoyance and mild disgust.

Ogi stepped forward. "What about their cursed energy?"

The doctor hesitated. "The eldest has no cursed energy. The youngest has very little. I believe the eldest has a Heavenly Restriction."

Silence fell. The words hit like a blow from a hammer. A Heavenly Restriction was a death sentence in the Zenin clan. No cursed energy meant no value, no place among sorcerers. Naoto already expected this but even he was surprised when he looked at the sheer disgust on peoples faces.

Ogi's voice broke the silence. "No!" He punched the wall, wood splintering with every hit. "Useless! Worthless!"

Servants flinched, some backing away. Ogi was going insane he was hitting the wall. He was kicking the floor. He looked like he was having a childish temper tantrum.

Naobito stepped forward. "Ogi, stop. This isn't the time."

Ogi didn't listen. He stormed into the birthing room, ignoring his wife, who lay pale on the bed. He went straight for the twins in the cradle. "Disgusting," he said, raising his hand.

Naoto's blood ran hot. He couldn't let this happen. Not to innocent kids. Not while he was standing right there.

Naobito's voice came again. "Ogi, stop!"

Ogi didn't. His hand hovered, trembling slightly as he reached over for them. Naoto moved, faster than anyone expected, and kicked Ogi hard in the chest. Ogi crashed through the wall, landing in the courtyard outside.

The elders shouted. "Naoto, you fool! You attacked an elder!" An elder yelled.

Naoto ignored them. He walked to the cradle and picked up the twins careful not to jostle them. They were so small, so fragile. He couldn't let Ogi touch them. He crossed the room to Mirajane. "Can I trust you to keep them safe?"

"Of course, Naoto," Mirajane said, taking the twins.

Naoto turned and walked toward the courtyard. Naobito stepped in his path. "Naoto, that was reckless. You can't attack your uncle."

"No one was stopping him," Naoto said. "He was going to hurt them."

Naobito sighed. "My brother wouldn't have killed them. He's angry, but he's not that far gone."

Naoto scoffed. "You sure?"

He didn't believe it. Ogi's rage wasn't just talk. Naoto had seen what happened when the clan's pride was wounded. People got hurt. Discarded. He wasn't going to let that happen to those kids, not if he could help it.

A figure appeared in the courtyard. Ogi stood, sword drawn, his face twisted with anger. "You dare strike me, boy? You'll pay."

"I do dare!" Naoto replied as he dropped into his stance.

(AN: so we have the birth an Maki and mai. Also I know the pacing has been kinda bad last few chapters but it's only cause I'm trying to wrap up this childhood arc quickly and I want to do so while having a decent chunk of development. Anyway hope you enjoyed it. Also what love interests you guys looking for?)