From beginning to end, Kenjaku watched.
High above Shibuya, on the rooftop of some building, a figure with stitches running across his forehead sat cross-legged at the edge, chin resting on the back of his hand, gazing down at the streets below with undisguised curiosity.
Of course he'd been able to find Mahito.
Kenjaku had lived for over a thousand years, worn countless bodies, and witnessed the birth and death of more cursed spirits than he could count. He had long since mapped out the patterns of cursed spirits like Mahito — the time, the place, the conditions. He knew all of it.
Which was exactly why he'd been able to show up punctually at the scene of Mahito's birth, with his script already prepared, his scheme to deceive her with the concept of a "new humanity" already ready, everything already in place.
And yes — everything that followed had unfolded exactly as he'd anticipated. Not a single unexpected deviation.
The one thing that had surprised Kenjaku was that this generation's Mahito had taken the form of a girl.
That was unprecedented.
Every previous generation had manifested as male. This time, it was a blue-haired young woman.
But… that didn't particularly matter.
Every incarnation carried some variation. Different birthplace, different appearance, subtle differences in personality. All of it fell within acceptable margins of deviation.
What mattered was the essence — Mahito's Technique, Mahito's potential. As long as those remained unchanged, as long as Mahito's role in his plan remained unchanged, nothing would be affected.
So he didn't mind.
The blue-haired girl had said she wanted to "play to her heart's content."
But of course, my friend. As if I didn't already know you love to play.
Every generation of Mahito loved to play — it was an instinct carved into the very soul of this cursed spirit. A vicious curiosity about the world, an insatiable urge to poke and prod at everything. A cursed spirit born from the negative emotions humans harbor toward one another would naturally inherit humanity's most base impulses. Especially right after birth, when that curiosity reached its peak — she would find everything fascinating, want to touch everything, test everything, try everything.
Heh heh…
He knew Mahito's nature well. And he had long since planned how to use that nature to control her movements — or rather, to guide them.
So Kenjaku hadn't interfered when she ran off to play. He simply let the girl skip and bounce her way out into the world.
He only watched.
He watched the blue-haired girl walk into the crowds of Shibuya. Watched her heal an elderly woman's shoulder. Watched her crouch down to mend the broken leg of a limping bird.
…Healing?
Kenjaku's eyes narrowed slightly.
Curious…
Mahito was a cursed spirit born from the negative emotions humans directed at one another — and as such, Mahito had always been filled with malice and destructive urges toward humanity.
In past generations, during the early period after birth, Mahito would typically slaughter humans indiscriminately, torment them, reshape them into Transfigured Humans, devouring the souls of the weak to grow stronger. This wasn't only because it was the most direct and efficient method of growth — it was also something every previous generation of Mahito had genuinely enjoyed. Something that brought Mahito instinctive pleasure.
Killing people. Toying with them. It gave Mahito a visceral sense of joy.
But this generation — this blue-haired Mahito — had chosen to heal.
…Interesting.
But why?
Kenjaku couldn't immediately make sense of it. Then, a moment later, he understood — and his eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"I see…"
He was watching Mahito's proficiency skyrocket in real time.
Healing a sprained ankle. Healing a lame bird. Healing nearsightedness. Healing hair loss. With every person she treated, her control over souls grew more refined by a degree. And the precision required for soul manipulation varied wildly between different ailments — meaning she was putting herself through an enormous variety of fine-grained training in an extraordinarily short amount of time.
"This is truly…"
Kenjaku raised an eyebrow.
Who would have thought. This generation's Mahito was something else entirely.
She had, right from the very start, hit upon the single best, most optimal method for developing her own abilities.
That had never happened before. Not once in any prior generation.
And really, when he thought about it — repair was indeed more precise than destruction. Using healing as practice was, if anything, even more efficient for mastering one's technique than killing. This was the optimal solution.
"It seems I can no longer afford to view this generation's Mahito the same way I've viewed all the others…"
The blue-haired girl before him was clearly more gifted than every previous generation of Mahito. Smarter. And more dangerous.
Kenjaku continued to observe.
Then he saw Megumi Fushiguro appear.
"Oh?…"
He saw the black-haired boy. Saw the two Jade Dogs surge out from the shadows. Saw Mahito spin on her heel and run.
He didn't move.
Kenjaku knew who Megumi Fushiguro was, of course.
He knew about the Ten Shadows Technique. He knew about Mahoraga.
If Megumi were pushed to his absolute limit and summoned Mahoraga, things would get troublesome. If it came to that, he would have no choice but to intervene personally and pull Mahito out of danger.
Escaping with Mahito in tow from Mahoraga was certainly something he could manage with ease.
Still… for reasons he couldn't entirely explain, he wanted to see how Mahito would handle this. So for now, he had no desire to reveal his position.
Oh. She was running.
She was deliberately using the crowd as cover, creating distance, avoiding direct confrontation. She even began manipulating bystanders' bodies to obstruct Megumi's pursuit.
He had to admit — when Kenjaku watched Megumi get slapped across the face by one bystander after another in the middle of the crowd, he laughed. Ungenerously. Because it was genuinely, objectively hilarious.
He could see it clearly: she was still playing. She seemed to be treating Megumi's chase as nothing more than a game.
True to form — that playful nature never changes, no matter the generation.
Kenjaku kept watching.
Mahito entered an alley.
Mahito was cornered.
Nanami Kento in front of her, Megumi Fushiguro behind. It seemed she would have no choice but to set aside her playfulness and face them head-on.
Kenjaku leaned forward slightly. He found himself genuinely curious what she would do in this situation.
Going by the behavioral patterns of every previous generation of Mahito, at this stage — when things turned serious — Mahito would bring her ability to bear and attack with Idle Transfiguration.
She would twist Megumi's soul, and in doing so warp his flesh into a grotesque mass of mutilated matter, then devour him — absorbing Megumi's soul and body for her own.
Megumi had no means of defending his soul. Against Mahito's Idle Transfiguration, he would be utterly helpless.
Yes. That was the most terrifying aspect of Mahito's Technique.
And it had been genuinely puzzling to Kenjaku, even now — because this generation's Mahito had not killed a single person thus far. Had not transfigured anyone. Had not devoured anyone.
Under normal circumstances, by this point in time, Mahito should have already begun devouring numerous souls, reshaping countless humans into Transfigured Human puppets. But so far, not once.
Why?
Was it because she disdained the power of ordinary people? Because they were too weak, not worth consuming? Was she waiting — waiting for a sorcerer worth devouring?
Someone like… Megumi Fushiguro?
Kenjaku watched with anticipation. He watched Mahito kick the trash can flying, hurl a rat-bomb, use her own flesh as bait to fool the Jade Dogs' sense of smell. He watched Mahito's hand cut through the smoke and press flat against Megumi's chest.
Here it was?
Kenjaku's eyes lit up.
Was she actually getting serious?
He watched Mahito's palm press against Megumi's chest, pouring Idle Transfiguration out at full power —
Kenjaku's smile widened.
Just as he'd predicted. She was devouring a sorcerer. Transfiguring Megumi's soul, absorbing it, making it her own — that was what Mahito was supposed to do. She'd taken a different road than every previous generation, but in the end she'd arrived at the same destination.
Good. This generation's Mahito was shaping up to be better than any generation before —
And then, before Kenjaku's eyes, he watched Megumi's body begin to shrink. His hair began to grow out. His features began to shift.
He watched, helplessly, as Mahito used Idle Transfiguration to turn Megumi Fushiguro into a girl.
"…?"
Kenjaku's smile froze on his face.
......
......
......
Hold on. What the hell was that for?
____
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