I just uploaded an info chapter about Naoya. Feel free to check it out and let me know if I missed anything, or if there's something you'd like me to expand on—I'm open to adding more details if needed.
Next up is Naoya's revenge arc against Naraku. I'm not sure if you'll like what I have in mind, but I'm going to go through with it anyway. If it's not your thing, no worries—feel free to drop it. The arc starts in the next chapter.
I'm also thinking about expanding the world a bit by having the MC travel to China to get a special-grade cursed tool. He'll meet sorcerers there, and I plan to develop a small arc around that. Do you think that's a good idea, or should I stick to Japan and continue the current storyline?
I'd really appreciate your thoughts.
And if there's anything you don't like, let me know. It's hard to change my mind, but I'm always open to hearing your complaints.
Thanks for reading this far!
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The next day, no one suspected a thing.
No one knew what Naoya Zenin had done the night before—how many had screamed, how many had bled. That was the beauty of it.
He moved like nothing had happened. Calm. Composed. Clean.
A white box hung lazily from one hand, the kind soaked with oil and cheap paper napkins—pizza, fresh from a delivery place in town Naoya barely remembered the name of. He'd grabbed it just to break the monotony of clan business. Today, he wasn't here to slaughter fools. He had other matters to handle.
He walked through the compound until he found who he was looking for: a cluster of clan elders sitting around a shaded porch.
"I want a building constructed," Naoya said flatly, not bothering with greetings. "Next to mine. Two bedrooms, full training space, nothing cheap. Make it fast."
One elder blinked. "...A new residence? For what purpose?"
Naoya smiled without warmth. "Your opinion means less than dirt to me. Don't speak unless spoken to"
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off, the pizza box still swinging in his grip.
He was ready to kidn—adopt Toji kids. Then, he would put the Inverted Spear of Heaven, stolen from Toji, in his house in a safe place.
…
Naoya was passing through the winding stone corridors of the Zenin compound after completting his task, the box of pizza tucked under his arm more out of boredom than hunger. He hadn't expected to run into anyone, much less two scrappy kids sitting on a broken bench in the courtyard.
Six-year-old Maki scowled at the dirt, fists clenched tightly, while Mai nervously picked at the frayed edges of her sleeves. A fresh bruise bloomed dark on Maki's and Mai's cheekbone.
"Look what the trash dragged in," a sneering voice cut through the air.
A tall Zenin cousin, barely older than Naoya, stood over them, cracking his knuckles like it meant something. His eyes gleamed with that usual clan-born cruelty—aimless, dull, and desperate to impress someone who wasn't watching.
"You two really think you belong here?" he jeered. "No one wants rejects like you. Why don't you crawl back to whatever hole you came from?"
Maki stood, slow and steady, fists clenched. She didn't cry. She never did. Mai flinched but held her ground.
The man raised his hand to strike.
Suddenly—
A hand landed softly on his neck and shoulder—casual, like the touch of an old friend.
"Hey there," Naoya said pleasantly, voice laced with venom, "how you doing?"
The blood drained from the boy's face. Goosebumps prickled across his skin. Sweat began to pour instantly as terror rooted him in place.
"M-Master Naoya!" he stammered. "I—I was just helping them with their training, I swear—just following orders!"
Naoya didn't answer immediately. He glanced at the twins. Maki stared back at him defiantly. Mai looked wary, confused, clinging to her sister's arm.
Thoughts began to stir.
From the day they were born, Naoya had a plan.
He was going to pull a Hiruzen Sarutobi. He'd make them pariahs—have the clan curse their name, isolate them, hate them. And then he, only he, would offer a hand. The light in the dark. Their one salvation. Just like that old man did with Naruto.
But that plan?
That plan got thrown out the window the moment he realized how fun it was to mock them.
Their scowls. Their fury. Their helplessness. It was too good.
Still, he had rules. He'd ordered the clan to treat them like dirt—verbally. No touching. No bruises. No broken bones. Because they were his.
He deemed them property. For some reason.
So when he saw the mark on their cheek—his smile vanished.
"Training, huh?" he repeated.
Then, without another word, Naoya grabbed the back of the man's head and slammed it into the stone path with a sickening crunch.
The sound echoed across the courtyard.
The tall Zenin's body jerked once, then went limp—blood trickling from his nose, his cheek scraping against the gravel.
Maki flinched, but didn't look away. Mai gasped, eyes wide with shock.
Naoya didn't even look at him again.
Instead, he turned to the twins. Maki was still glaring, defiant even on the ground. Mai looked close to tears but stood in front of her sister anyway.
"You two are pathetic," Naoya said flatly. "Getting bullied in your own courtyard."
Maki hissed through clenched teeth. "You think we need your help?"
Naoya tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question.
"If I wanted to help, you'd already be standing. I didn't. And you're not."
But he didn't walk off.
Instead, he looked down at the stone bench the twins were sitting on, let out a long, dramatic sigh, and lowered himself onto it with theatrical boredom—like a noble forced to sit among peasants.
He placed the white pizza box on his lap, flipped it open, and pulled out a slice, lounging comfortably between the two six-year-olds like they were all old friends.
Maki shifted away, glaring, clearly uncomfortable. Mai sat frozen, unsure whether to breathe or speak.
But both their eyes locked onto the pizza.
It was the first time they'd seen anything like it—circular, golden-brown crust, gooey white and yellow cheese, glistening with oil. The smell alone was strange and overwhelming in its richness.
They stared at it like it wasn't real.
Naoya took a bite. Loudly. Deliberately.
"Mm," he said, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. "Still hot. Can't beat that. Cheese, crust, perfectly greasy. They don't make this kind of thing in our backward little clan kitchen."
He took another bite, tilting his head back and letting out a quiet, satisfied hum. "Amazing what a little quality tastes like, huh?"
The girls said nothing. Their silence only encouraged him.
He glanced at Mai, who was now visibly staring at the open box like a stray cat eyeing a scrap of meat. He smirked.
"Hungry?"
Mai hesitated, then nodded once, very slowly.
Naoya picked up a slice with two fingers, held it out—and then, just before she could reach for it, yanked it back and took a bite from the corner.
"Oops," he said, not even bothering to hide the grin.
Mai's shoulders drooped, and Maki's fists clenched tighter.
Naoya looked over at her, chewing thoughtfully.
"You too, huh? Don't be shy. Or is your pride too big to accept food from someone you hate?"
"I'd rather starve," Maki spat.
Naoya raised an eyebrow, then looked at her seriously for a moment, like he was reconsidering something important.
Then he turned back to the pizza and took another loud, greasy bite. "Cool. More for me."
He chewed obnoxiously, mouth half-open, and let out an exaggerated moan of pleasure. "God, the sauce ratio on this one? Immaculate. Almost makes up for how ugly this place is."
Mai's stomach growled—audibly.
Naoya paused mid-bite and slowly turned to her. "You want a slice? Say 'Naoya-sama is the hottest Zenin' first"
Mai's face went red. She looked like she'd rather bite her tongue off—but her eyes kept flicking to the pizza. The smell was too much. She'd never eaten anything like it. Just one bite…
"I…" she mumbled, barely audible.
Naoya leaned in, holding the slice just out of reach. "C'mon. Loud enough for the gods to hear. 'Naoya-sama is the hottest Zenin.' Or no pizza."
Maki growled, starting to rise. "Back off—"
He reached out suddenly and ruffled Maki's hair—roughly, like she was a pet that annoyed him. She slapped his hand away, glaring, and he just laughed.
"You call that resistance?" he taunted.
Then he turned to Mai, who flinched before he even touched her. He didn't hit her—just flicked the tip of her nose with two fingers, smirking.
"Flinching already? You're soft. No wonder everyone pushes you around."
Mai's cheeks flushed, but she didn't speak.
Naoya stood up, stretching with a lazy groan. "You two are hopeless. And I mean that sincerely."
He grabbed the pizza box like he was going to leave with it—but then stopped and looked back at them, smug as ever.
"Oh, right. You're probably too proud to beg, too stupid to steal, and too weak to hunt."
He took a few steps away, then sighed with great theatrical effort.
"You know what?" he muttered, circling back. "Let it never be said I'm not generous."
He kicked the bench gently, sliding the box between them with a dull thud.
"Two slices. Untouched. I'm not a monster."
Then he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, voice drifting lazily behind him:
"Next time I'll bring dessert—maybe something soft, since you're clearly fragile."
Silence followed.
For a few seconds, neither twin moved.
Maki sat tense, staring at the box like it was a trap. Mai was the first to shift, sneaking a glance at her sister—waiting for permission, or maybe just hoping she wouldn't stop her.
Maki gave no order. No nod. Nothing. But she didn't stop her either.
Mai slowly reached out, lifting the lid. Steam still rose from the two slices inside, golden crust soft and greasy, cheese melted and glistening.
She picked one up with both hands, holding it awkwardly, like she wasn't sure which end to bite.
Then she did.
And for a moment, everything else stopped.
The crust was crisp at the edge but soft underneath. The cheese clung to her tongue, salty and hot, stretching slightly as she pulled back. The sauce was tangy, a sharp bite of tomato and oil that soaked into the dough.
Her eyes widened. She took another bite. Faster.
Maki watched, expression unreadable—then, reluctantly, grabbed the second slice.
She bit in without ceremony.
And though her face stayed hard, her chewing slowed. Her eyes lowered just slightly.
She liked it. A lot. More than she wanted to admit.
Neither of them spoke—but Mai was already licking her fingertips by the time she finished, and Maki held the crust longer than necessary before tossing it aside, like she couldn't decide whether to savor the last bite or pretend she didn't care.
They sat in silence, chewing the last scraps of comfort from the greasy cardboard box.
It wasn't just good.
It was the best thing they'd ever tasted.
And the worst part?
It was from Naoya.