Villain

The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold as Takahiro settled himself beneath the shade of a large tree. After a long afternoon exploring the wonders of the Central Park Zoo, he had decided to take a break in the park, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the laughter of children playing nearby.

He turned to his three young charges, a smile playing on his lips. "Hiro, Momo, Hanzo," he called out, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'm going to rest here for a bit. Why don't you go play near the lake?"

Hiro, a young boy with bright blue eyes and golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight, grinned up at his father. "Okay, Dad!" he said, his voice filled with excitement.

Beside him, his cousin Momo, a little girl with hair the same shade of gold and eyes just as blue, bounced on her toes, eager to play. And then there was Hanzo, a striking contrast to the other two with his jet-black hair and piercing red eyes.

The three children raced towards the edge of the lake, their laughter ringing out through the air. Momo, her eyes sparkling with mischief, asked, "What should we play?"

Hanzo, a grin spreading across his face, replied, "I know! Let's play heroes. I'll be the hero, Momo can be the damsel in distress, and Hiro will be the villain."

Hiro, his nose wrinkling in distaste, protested, "Why do I have to be the villain?"

Hanzo, his chest puffing out with pride, said, "Because I'm the oldest."

Hiro stuck his tongue out at his cousin, but his eyes sparkled with good-natured rivalry. "Fine," he said, his voice filled with a playful challenge. "But next time, I get to be the hero."

Hanzo, his grin widening, agreed. "Okay, let's play!"

Momo, her eyes wide with feigned fear, cried out, "Oh, someone, please help me!"

Hanzo, his voice filled with bravado, declared, "Fear not, fair maiden! I shall vanquish the villain and save you!"

Hiro, his hands outstretched in front of him, shouted, "Take this, energy cannon!" He mimed firing a blast of energy at Hanzo, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ha! I got you!"

Hanzo, his arms crossed over his chest, retorted, "Nuh-uh! I have an invisible shield that protects me."

Hiro, his brow furrowing in confusion, said, "What? That's not fair! That doesn't exist."

Hanzo, his grin turning smug, replied, "Gojo Satoru has one."

Hiro, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, said, "Gojo Satoru isn't real."

Hanzo, his voice filled with a teasing confidence, said, "You're just saying that because I'm going to beat you."

Hiro, his jaw set with determination, declared, "Fine, then I'll use my ultimate attack: Divine Electricity!" He mimed launching a powerful blast of energy at Hanzo, his movements exaggerated and dramatic.

Hanzo, his smile never wavering, said, "My shield protects me."

Hiro, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, exclaimed, "No, I win because I hurt Momo! You failed as a hero."

Hanzo, his eyes widening in shock, sputtered, "What? That's not fair! I haven't lost yet."

Hiro, his voice filled with a quiet confidence, replied, "But I achieved my objective, and you failed to protect Momo. That means you failed as a hero."

Hanzo, his face turning red with frustration, shouted, "No, it's not true!"

Momo, her expression thoughtful, said, "It is true, though. At the end of the day, a hero has to protect others."

Hanzo, his eyes filling with tears of frustration, turned and ran towards Takahiro, shouting, "Uncle!"

The other two children followed close behind, their faces a mix of concern and amusement. Takahiro, his brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "What's wrong?"

Hanzo, his voice filled with a childish whine, said, "Tell them not to cheat!"

Takahiro, his eyebrow arching in question, asked, "What happened?"

Hiro, his voice filled with a quiet confidence, explained, "Hanzo wanted to be the hero, but now he's mad because he lost. He couldn't protect Momo."

Hanzo, his voice rising in pitch, protested, "But you didn't hurt me, so I haven't lost yet!"

Takahiro sighed, his expression one of gentle understanding. "Hanzo," he said, his voice filled with a quiet wisdom, "Hiro is right. If a hero can't protect others, then they're not really a hero."

Momo, her voice filled with a teasing warmth, added, "Don't be such a crybaby, brother. Just admit that Hiro beat you."

Hanzo, his expression turning sullen, muttered, "Fine. Being a hero is boring anyway."

Hiro, his grin turning sly, said, "You're just saying that because I won."

Hanzo, his eyes sparkling with a sudden challenge, said, "Oh, yeah? Then let's see who's faster. Race you to the other side of the lake!"

The three cousins took off running, their laughter echoing through the air as they raced across the grass. Takahiro watched them go, a fond smile playing on his lips.

The park around them was a lush oasis of green in the heart of the city, a place of peace and tranquility amidst the bustle of urban life. The grass was soft and inviting, dotted with wildflowers in shades of yellow and purple. The lake shimmered in the golden light of the setting sun, its surface rippling with the gentle breeze that blew through the trees.

In the distance, the sounds of the city could be heard, the honking of car horns and the distant rumble of trains. But here, in this small corner of the park, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the laughter of children and the beauty of nature.

Takahiro leaned back against the tree, his eyes drifting closed as he savored the moment. These were the days he lived for, the moments of joy and innocence that made all the struggles and hardships of life worth it.

And as he watched his son and niece and nephew play, their faces filled with the carefree happiness of childhood, he knew that he would do anything to protect them, to keep them safe from the darkness that lurked just beyond the edges of their world.

For they were the future, the hope and the promise of a better tomorrow. And he would fight with every ounce of his strength to ensure that they had the chance to grow and thrive, to become the heroes they were always meant to be.

Hiro's eyes snapped open, the dream fading away as he found himself in the darkness of his bedroom. The clock on the nightstand read 5:56 AM, just four minutes before his alarm was set to go off.

He ran a hand over his face, his mind still lost in the memories of that long-ago day in the park. Beside him, Maki slept peacefully, her breathing soft and even in the stillness of the early morning.

Hiro stared up at the ceiling, his brow furrowing with thought. "How can I defeat Hanzo?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe Momo knows something. I need to talk to her."

With a sudden, mischievous grin, Hiro reached over and gave Maki a playful smack on the rear. "WAKE UP!" he shouted, his voice filled with a teasing energy.

Maki jolted awake, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of annoyance. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

Hiro, his grin widening, replied, "Nothing, but I want you to come with me."

Maki, her brow furrowing in confusion, said, "Couldn't you have waited for me to wake up on my own?"

Hiro, his eyes sparkling with mischief, retorted, "Don't be lazy. It's time to get up."

____________

Itadori, Maki, and Hiro strode through the corridors of the Kyoto Jujutsu School, their footfalls resonating off the gleaming wooden floors. The aroma of incense wafted through the air, intermingling with the faint scent of perspiration and the pungent odor of cursed energy.

Maki turned to Hiro, her eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. "Why are we here?" she inquired, a touch of impatience in her tone.

Hiro responded with a casual shrug, "I need to talk to Momo about something."

Itadori, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, asked, "And why did I have to tag along?"

A mischievous grin spread across Hiro's face as he explained, "Because we're going to pick up some souvenirs later, and I need someone to carry the bags."

Itadori let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in resignation. "I'm not a pack mule, you know," he muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Abruptly, a figure materialized before them, its metallic body glinting in the dim hallway light. It was none other than Mechamaru, the robotic vessel that housed the cursed technique user Kokichi Muta.

Hiro's eyes glimmered with mirth as he called out, "I see they managed to put you back together again."

Mechamaru retorted, his voice laden with sarcasm, "You seem quite chipper, Hiro Miller, for someone who was recently knocking on death's door."

Hiro's grin widened as he quipped, "That doesn't change the fact that I kicked your ass."

Mechamaru tilted his head, acknowledging Hiro's strength. "You are formidable, I'll give you that. Which is why I need to ask you for a favor."

Hiro's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "What do you need?"

Mechamaru approached, his metal feet clanking against the floor. He extended a robotic hand, a small slip of paper grasped between his fingers. "This is my number," he said, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "I need you to be in Kyoto on October 21st. I'll call you and provide further instructions on that day."

Hiro's brow creased in confusion. "What? That's like two months from now. What exactly do you need me for?"

Mechamaru's face, though robotic, remained unreadable. "You'll find out on that day. For now, please keep this between us." He glanced at Maki and Itadori, his gaze sweeping over them. "The same goes for you two. Please don't mention this to anyone."

Itadori's eyes widened in surprise as he stammered, "U-understood, um... Robot senpai?"

Mechamaru corrected him, a trace of exasperation in his voice, "Mechamaru. My name is Mechamaru."

Itadori tilted his head, perplexed. "What are you, some kind of robot?"

Hiro's expression grew serious. "I assume I'll be getting something in return for this, right?"

Mechamaru replied, his voice carrying a quiet intensity, "Yes. Something that will save many lives."

Hiro nodded, his jaw tightening with resolve. "Alright, then," he said, his voice filled with grim acceptance. "Where's Momo, by the way?"

As if on cue, a familiar figure appeared in the hallway, her expression one of haughty disdain. It was none other than Mai Zenin, Maki's twin sister and a fellow student at the Kyoto school.

"Well, well," she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't expect to see your loser faces again so soon." Her gaze drifted to Hiro, and a coy smile played on her lips. "But I do love seeing your face, Hiro."

Hiro flashed a charming grin. "Likewise."

Maki, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, reached out and tugged on Hiro's ear, twisting the sensitive flesh. "I meant I love seeing my own face," Hiro said quickly, a hint of panic in his voice.

Mechamaru interjected, cutting through the tension, "Momo is out on a mission. She should be back in a couple of hours."

Hiro nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, then. We'll wait."

Mechamaru turned to face the hallway. "I'll take you to the common room."

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the corridor, filled with manic energy and enthusiasm. "MY BEST FRIEND!" it shouted, the words reverberating off the walls.

Itadori's eyes widened in horror as he swallowed hard. "Todo?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Aoi Todo appeared out of nowhere, his muscular frame filling the hallway, his face split in a wide, manic grin. "So, you came to visit me, brother?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with crazed excitement. "We really are inseparable!"

Itadori, his face turning pale with terror, turned and ran, his footsteps pounding against the floor as he fled down the hallway. Todo, his grin widening, gave chase, his booming laughter echoing through the school.

Hiro, his eyes sparkling with mischief, said, "Todo asked me to bring him here as soon as possible."

Maki shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're evil," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Mechamaru's voice cut through the chaos. "Follow me, then."

Maki and Hiro fell into step behind the robotic puppet, their footsteps echoing through the hallways as they delved deeper into the school. Ancient scrolls and tapestries lined the walls, each one depicting a scene from the long and storied history of jujutsu sorcery.

As they walked, a sense of unease washed over Hiro. He knew that his conversation with Momo would be difficult, that he would have to confront painful memories and uncomfortable truths.

But he also knew that it was necessary, that he needed to understand Hanzo's weaknesses if he was going to have any hope of defeating him. And with Maki and Itadori by his side, he knew that he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Finally, they reached the common room, a spacious area filled with comfortable couches and chairs. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow.

Mechamaru came to a stop. "You can wait here. I'll let Momo know you've arrived when she returns."

Hiro nodded, his expression turning serious. "Thanks, Mechamaru," he said, his voice filled with quiet gratitude.

As the robotic puppet turned and left the room, Hiro sank onto one of the couches, his body suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion. Maki sat down beside him, her hand finding his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

________

In a bustling café in the heart of Tokyo, an unusual customer sat at a table, his distinctive appearance drawing curious glances from the other patrons. The man, a monk with a prominent scar on his forehead, was none other than Suguru Geto, or at least someone who bore his likeness. Seated beside him were Jogo and Mahito, two cursed spirits invisible to the unsuspecting humans around them.

The café door swung open, and two tall men in impeccably tailored suits strode in, their presence commanding immediate attention. Geto's lips curved into a smile as he greeted them, "You're late, Hanzo and Mr. Miller."

The men took their seats, and Miller wasted no time in getting to the point. "Why are we meeting in a café, of all places?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance.

Geto's smile widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because it's more entertaining this way," he replied, his voice carrying a note of amusement.

Miller sighed, his shoulders sagging in resignation. "Very well, I won't question your twisted mind, Geto. After all, you seem to know what you're doing."

Hanzo's gaze fell upon Mahito, his eyebrows knitting together in curiosity. "I haven't seen you before. Who are you?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of suspicion.

Geto, his expression neutral, introduced the unfamiliar face. "This is Mahito," he said, his tone even and controlled.

Mahito, his face splitting into a friendly grin, extended his hand in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice dripping with charm.

Jogo, growing impatient, interjected, "So, why did you humans request this meeting?"

Miller leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he fixed Geto with a pointed stare. "We followed your orders during the exchange event. I provided you with information about the American sorcerers and the military. You promised great things, but you have yet to reveal your plan."

Jogo scoffed, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "You've given so much and received nothing in return. It's no wonder humans are so gullible."

Miller's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching in irritation. "Don't be mistaken, curse. Nothing I've done so far has presented any significant conflict or difficulty. That's why I'm cooperating."

Geto's smile returned, his expression one of gratitude. "I appreciate your trust, Mr. Miller. However, you must understand that it's difficult for me to share the plan with you, considering your relationship to Hiro Miller."

Miller, his voice steady and unwavering, replied, "My son, Hanzo, is willing to eliminate Hiro if that's what it takes to earn your trust."

Geto paused, his mind turning over the offer. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, that wouldn't sit well with me. Hiro Miller is an extraordinary sorcerer. If I want to reach the pinnacle of jujutsu sorcery, I need the strongest by my side. Besides, there's a fight I'd like to see—someone with the same technique as him."

Miller's brow furrowed in confusion. "The same technique?"

Geto waved his hand dismissively, his smile turning cryptic. "Nevermind, I'm getting ahead of myself," he said, his voice filled with a hint of mirth.

Leaning back in his chair, Geto's expression turned serious. "There is something you can do to earn our trust, though."

Miller, his interest piqued, asked, "And what might that be?"

Geto's smile took on a malevolent edge, his eyes glinting with a cruel light. "I heard you have a daughter studying in Kyoto."

Miller nodded, his expression guarded. "Yes, her name is Momo. What about her?"

Geto, his voice dripping with malice, said, "Well, your test of loyalty will be to bring me your daughter's head."

Miller's eyebrow arched, his expression one of mild surprise. "Is that all?" he asked, his tone nonchalant.

Geto's grin widened, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the café. "That's all," he confirmed, his voice filled with a sickening sweetness.

Miller turned to Hanzo, his expression one of cold determination. "Hanzo, bring Mr. Geto your sister's head."

Hanzo, his hand running through his hair in a casual gesture, nodded. "Understood," he said, his voice filled with a chilling indifference.

He turned to Geto, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I can have a little fun with this, right?"

Geto, his smile never wavering, replied, "By all means, go ahead. Just try not to kill any more Kyoto students. It would anger our friend Kokichi, also known as Mechamaru."

Hanzo, his brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "What's the deal with him?"

Geto, his expression turning thoughtful, explained, "He's an ally of ours. We promised not to harm his friends. He'll likely be upset about Momo's death, but I hope he'll understand."

Hanzo, stifling a yawn, rose from his seat. "Whatever. I'll be back soon," he said, his voice filled with a casual dismissal.

As Hanzo made his way out of the café, the conversations around them continued, the patrons blissfully unaware of the dark machinations unfolding in their midst. Miller, his expression one of grim satisfaction, leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together in a gesture of contemplation.

Geto, his smile turning sly, said, "I must admit, Mr. Miller, I'm impressed by your willingness to sacrifice your own daughter for our cause."

Miller, his eyes cold and unfeeling, replied, "Momo is a small price to pay for the power and influence you've promised me. Besides, I have other children. She's expendable."

Jogo, his expression one of cruel amusement, chuckled. "Humans truly are a despicable species," he said, his voice filled with a mocking disdain.

Mahito, his smile never wavering, added, "But that's what makes them so interesting, don't you think? Their capacity for cruelty and betrayal knows no bounds."

Geto, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light, nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "And it's that very capacity that we'll exploit to achieve our goals."

As the meeting drew to a close, the four conspirators rose from their seats, their expressions filled with a dark anticipation. They knew that the path ahead would be fraught with danger and challenges, that they would face opposition from the very sorcerers they sought to eliminate.

But they also knew that they had the upper hand, that they held the keys to a power that few could even begin to comprehend. And with that power, they would reshape the world in their own twisted image, would create a new order where curses reigned supreme and humans were little more than cattle to be slaughtered.

As they stepped out into the bustling streets of Tokyo, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and red behind them, Geto couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins. The game was afoot, and he held all the cards.

And soon, very soon, he would show the world the true face of jujutsu sorcery, would unleash a darkness that would consume everything in its path.

Hanzo walked through the bustling streets of Tokyo, his footsteps purposeful as he made his way towards the bullet train station. The people around him passed by, blissfully unaware of the immense power that lay dormant within him. As he walked, his mind wandered, his thoughts turning to his cousin, Hiro.

"Hiro, my dear cousin," Hanzo mused, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. "Momo always loved you more than her own brother. But it doesn't matter. I don't care about the love of a weakling like her. What bothers me is that you always hogged the spotlight."

A memory from his high school days flashed through Hanzo's mind. A girl with short, black hair stood before him, her eyes downcast as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Hanzo, but we need to break up," she said, her voice tinged with regret.

Hanzo arched an eyebrow, his expression one of confusion. "Why?" he asked, his voice flat and emotionless.

The girl, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, replied, "I heard that Hiro is single, and well... I've always had a crush on him."

Hanzo's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. "Fine," he said, his voice cold and hard. "LEAVE!"

As he continued walking, Hanzo's thoughts turned darker. "That wasn't the only time a girl used me to get closer to him," he muttered, his voice filled with a quiet rage. "But that doesn't matter either."

Another memory surfaced, this one of his mother. "She also preferred him over me," Hanzo thought, his jaw clenching with anger. "Her face lit up with pure joy whenever he came over to play."

But even as the memories threatened to consume him, Hanzo pushed them aside. "But that doesn't matter either," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

A more recent memory took hold, one from just two years ago. Hanzo and his father stood in the penthouse of a New York City skyscraper, the rain pounding against the windows in a steady rhythm.

"Father," Hanzo said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "Now that Grandfather has passed, who will lead the clan?"

Mr. Miller, his expression grave, replied, "Your uncle and I. Your grandfather didn't want to give me full control, and since your uncle Takahiro doesn't have a cursed technique, he couldn't leave it to him. So, he divided the power between us."

Hanzo, his heart racing with anticipation, asked, "Tell me, Father. Will I inherit the clan's leadership?"

Mr. Miller, his eyes filled with a cold determination, said, "Your uncle and I have made it clear, Hanzo. Hiro will be the next leader when he turns 21."

Hanzo, his anger boiling over, exclaimed, "What? Why him? He can never beat me in training!"

Mr. Miller, his voice filled with a quiet authority, explained, "Hiro is more level-headed and intelligent. He's also more charismatic and possesses more leadership qualities. It's not all about strength, Hanzo."

As Hanzo boarded the train, the memory faded, replaced by a grim satisfaction. "Well, things have changed," he said, his voice filled with a quiet triumph. "Hiro is practically exiled from the clan, and Father no longer cares. And soon, we'll have more power than we ever dreamed of."

Back in the common room at the Kyoto school, Hiro and Maki sat side by side, both engrossed in their phones. Hiro let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping with boredom.

"I'm tired of waiting," he said, his voice filled with a childish whine.

Maki, her eyes never leaving her phone screen, replied, "And what do you want me to do about it? Momo is taking longer than expected."

Hiro, his mind racing with possibilities, started listing off ideas. "We could play a game," he suggested, his voice filled with a playful enthusiasm.

Maki, her expression one of mild annoyance, said, "I don't feel like it."

Undeterred, Hiro tried again. "Watch a movie?"

Maki, her patience wearing thin, replied, "I'm not in the mood."

Hiro, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, leaned in close, his breath hot against Maki's ear. "How about we have some fun, right here, right now?" he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

Maki's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "What are you saying?" she hissed, her voice filled with a nervous energy. "What if someone walks in?"

Hiro, his grin widening, said, "Isn't that your fantasy? Doing it somewhere we might get caught?"

Maki, her brow furrowing in confusion, replied, "I never said that."

Hiro, his smile turning sheepish, admitted, "You're right. That's my fantasy."

Maki, her curiosity getting the better of her, asked, "And what if someone does walk in?"

Hiro, his eyes sparkling with mischief, said, "If it's Mai, we'll invite her to join us."

Maki shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "And you think that's going to convince me?"

But even as she spoke, Maki wrapped her legs around Hiro's waist, pulling him close. She hiked up her skirt a bit, giving him a playful, inviting look. "Just make it quick," she murmured.

They began to kiss, their tongues dancing and intertwining as the heat between them grew. Maki sighed softly into Hiro's mouth, losing herself in his touch.

Hiro's hands roamed her body, caressing her through the fabric of her uniform. "See, you were in the mood after all," he teased between kisses.

Maki shot him a mock glare as she unbuttoned his pants. "Just put it in already, before someone comes," she urged breathlessly.

Hiro grinned, taking himself in hand and rubbing the tip teasingly against her entrance. Maki whimpered, already so wet for him. "You're soaked," he groaned appreciatively.

"Too much," Maki agreed, her voice thick with need. "Now hurry up!"

Hiro slid into her slick heat, both of them sighing at the delicious sensation. He began to move, thrusting slowly at first but quickly picking up speed as their passion mounted.

The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking - soft moans, creaking furniture, the slick slide of flesh against flesh. The air grew heavy and humid, fogging up the windows as they lost themselves in each other.

Maki ran her hands over Hiro's muscular back, loving the feel of his body moving above her, inside her. She arched up to meet his thrusts, angling her hips to take him deeper.

Hiro peppered kisses over Maki's neck and collarbones as he moved, lavishing attention on all the sensitive spots he'd learned drove her wild. He craved her reactions, the little gasps and shivers only he could draw from her.

Their movements grew more frantic, more urgent, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within them both. They no longer cared about the noise, about the risk of discovery. In that moment, nothing existed but the two of them, joined so intimately.

"I'm close," Maki panted, her nails digging into Hiro's shoulders. "Don't stop, Hiro, please..."

"Me too," he grunted, his rhythm faltering as he neared the edge. "But I don't have a condom... If I pull out, I'll make a mess..."

Maki locked her ankles behind his back, holding him deep. "Just come inside me," she urged. "I need to feel you..."

A few more hard, deep thrusts and they were both coming undone, clinging to each other as ecstasy crashed over them in waves. Hiro spilled himself deep inside Maki as she clenched and fluttered around him, her own release triggering aftershocks of pleasure that left them both boneless and spent.

They collapsed together on the couch, panting and sweaty and deliriously satisfied. "God, that was so good," Hiro murmured, nuzzling into the crook of Maki's neck.

Maki hummed in agreement, running her fingers through his hair as their racing hearts gradually slowed. Despite the risk, the intensity of their joining left them both feeling relaxed and content, basking in the afterglow of their passionate encounter.

Momo walked into the common room, her voice echoing off the walls as she called out, "Hiro, Mechamaru told me you were looking for me..." Her words trailed off as she took in the scene before her. Hiro and Maki, both half-naked, were entangled on the couch, their faces flushed and hair disheveled.

Hiro, a sheepish grin on his face, looked up at his cousin. "Hey, Momo... Didn't expect you to be back so soon."

Momo sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "What did I do to deserve a cousin like you?" she muttered, her voice filled with a mix of fondness and annoyance.

Hiro, still grinning, said, "Let me get dressed, and then we can talk." Momo nodded, turning on her heel and leaving the room to give them some privacy.

Maki, her face burning with embarrassment, covered her eyes with her hand. "God, how mortifying," she groaned, her voice muffled.

Hiro laughed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "At least it was Momo and not old man Gakuganji or Ms. Utahime," he teased, playfully poking Maki's side.

Maki swatted his hand away, still too flustered to appreciate his humor. "Just get off me already," she grumbled, pushing at his chest.

Hiro complied, untangling himself from Maki and quickly pulling on his clothes. Maki did the same, straightening her uniform and trying to smooth down her mussed hair.

The two of them stepped out into the hallway where Momo was waiting, her arms crossed over her chest and an expectant look on her face. "So?" she asked, her eyebrow arched. "What brings you here? I doubt you came all this way just to screw your girlfriend on the couch we all use."

Hiro had the decency to look a bit ashamed, rubbing the back of his neck as a slight blush colored his cheeks. But his expression soon turned serious as he met Momo's gaze. "I wanted to ask you about Hanzo. Why does he have a different technique? Or rather, an improved one?"

Momo sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't know, Hiro. Do you really think Hanzo is the type of person to share his life story with others?"

Hiro frowned, his brow furrowing. "You must know something, Momo."

Momo's eyes filled with sadness, her lower lip trembling slightly. "All I know is that my dad and Hanzo have lost their minds, and now they're working with curses. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Hiro's expression softened, his heart aching for his cousin. "I'm sorry, Momo. I didn't mean to..."

Before he could finish, Momo stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she began to cry. "They're my dad and my brother, Hiro," she sobbed, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Hiro held her close, one hand gently stroking her hair as he tried to comfort her. Momo, her tears gradually subsiding, pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Tell me, Hiro. Are you going to kill my brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hiro shook his head, his expression determined. "I just want to beat some sense into him, Momo. I don't want to kill him."

Momo laughed, the sound watery but genuine. She stepped back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I'm glad to hear that. Hanzo may be an idiot, but he's still our family."

Hiro nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Don't worry, Momo. I'll handle it."

He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "Do you know if he has any weaknesses?" he asked, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

Momo's smile faded, her expression turning apologetic. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Hiro... But he doesn't have any."

From the other end of the hallway, Mechamaru spoke up, his robotic arms crossed over his chest. "Not only does he not have any weaknesses, but his technique is one to be feared. It has the potential to pierce through Gojo's Infinity, and maybe even defeat him with enough effort."

Hiro's eyes widened, his mouth falling open in shock. "It's that powerful?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of awe and trepidation.

Mechamaru nodded, his metallic face unreadable. "Well, that's what I was able to observe with my cameras," he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

Hiro, his brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "Cameras?"

Mechamaru waved his hand dismissively. "I'll explain later," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Maki, who had been listening to the conversation with a growing sense of unease, spoke up. "So, we're facing someone who's potentially as strong as that blindfolded idiot?" she asked, her voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

Mechamaru, his robotic head tilting to the side, clarified, "He has the potential to be as strong, but he still has a long way to go."

Hiro, his jaw set with determination, said, "Then we need to defeat him as soon as possible."

Momo, her expression thoughtful, said, "I could call him and ask him to meet with us."

Hiro, his eyebrow arching skeptically, asked, "Do you think he'll fall for that?"

Momo, her shoulders slumping in defeat, admitted, "Honestly, no."

Mechamaru, his robotic voice filled with a hint of consolation, said, "In any case, I doubt he'll make a move anytime soon. So, Hiro, you should focus on getting stronger."

___________

Hanzo strolled through the tranquil gardens of the Kyoto Jujutsu School, his footsteps light and carefree as he navigated the winding paths. The sun shone down upon him, its warm rays casting dappled shadows through the leaves of the trees that lined the walkway.

But the peaceful atmosphere belied the carnage that lay before him. Strewn across the ground, their bodies broken and bleeding, were the defeated forms of Gakuganji, Kamo, and Utahime. They lay there, unmoving, their faces etched with the pain and horror of their final moments.

Hanzo's knuckles were stained with their blood, the crimson liquid already beginning to dry and flake on his skin. But he paid it no mind, his lips curling into a soft whistle as he continued on his way, his heart filled with a twisted sense of anticipation.

"Momo, my dear sister," he thought to himself, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent light. "I wonder what face you'll make when you see me. Will you cry? Will you beg for mercy? Or will you face your death with the same pathetic bravery as these fools?"

He chuckled softly to himself, the sound harsh and grating in the stillness of the garden. "It doesn't matter, in the end," he mused, his voice filled with a cruel amusement. "You'll die, just like the rest of them. And I'll savor every moment of it."

As he walked, Hanzo's mind drifted to the past, to the memories of his childhood with Momo. He remembered the way she had always looked up to him, the way she had followed him around like a lost puppy, eager for his attention and approval.

"Pathetic," he spat, his voice filled with contempt. "She was always so weak, so dependent on others. Not like me. I was strong, even then. I knew what I wanted, and I took it, no matter the cost."

He rounded a corner, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance. It was Hiro, his cousin and rival, the one person who had always stood in his way, always challenged him for the top spot in the clan.

"Hiro," he growled, his voice filled with a seething hatred. "You think you're so special, don't you? With your golden hair and your blue eyes, your easy smile and your natural charisma. You've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter, while I've had to fight and claw my way to the top."

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. "But not anymore," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "Now, I'm the one with the power. Now, I'm the one who will take everything from you, just like you took everything from me."

Hiro turned, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Hanzo. "Hanzo?" he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and apprehension. "What are you doing here?"

Hanzo grinned, the expression twisting his handsome face into something cruel and grotesque. "I'm here for Momo, of course," he said, his voice filled with a mocking sweetness. "I've come to pay my dear sister a visit."

Hiro's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he shifted into a defensive stance. "Like hell you are," he growled, his voice filled with a protective fury. "I won't let you lay a finger on her."

Hanzo laughed, the sound filled with a manic glee. "You think you can stop me, Hiro?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "You, who have always been second best, always been one step behind me?"

He shook his head, his smile widening. "No, dear cousin. You can't stop me. No one can. I'm stronger than you, stronger than anyone. And I'll prove it, right here, right now."