Three months passed.
Naoya's daily routine didn't change much.
Same meals. Same training.
The only difference?
Naraku's belly.
Growing. Obvious now beneath her loose maid dress.
And her attempts to kill him?
Fewer.
Then none.
But today brought something else.
Someone else.
The Zen'in estate gates creaked open to reveal a visitor Naoya hadn't seen in some time.
Geto Suguru.
And he looked like hell.
Dark circles under his eyes. Hair loose and unkempt. Shoulders heavy like he'd been carrying something invisible and unbearable.
"Yo," Geto greeted flatly.
Naoya raised an eyebrow.
"You look like shit," he said, stepping aside to let him in. "Gojo finally drive you insane?"
Geto gave a tired smile. "Just a little sick. That's all."
Naoya narrowed his eyes. He saw the lie immediately.
Still, he let it slide.
"For a sick man, you sure wandered far. What brings you here, commoner?" he added with a grin.
"It seems that You haven't changed much," Geto muttered.
"Nope," Naoya agreed.
Geto exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been a while. I figured I'd stop by. Say hi."
Naoya tilted his head. "Yap, yap. Did you learn Domain Expansion yet or are you still stuck?"
Geto sighed. "Not yet. But I'm close. I've been asking Gojo about it, but he's... he's horrible at explaining things. Bastard just flexes instead of teaching."
Naoya laughed.
A short, sharp sound.
"He probably thinks explaining would slow him down. Typical," he said. "Well, you're in luck. You can stay here for a bit. I'll help you."
Geto blinked. "You will?"
Naoya smirked wider. "Of course. I'll help you out. And as a filthy commoner, you should be honored I'm even speaking to you this casually"
Geto chuckled. "Still the most humble man alive."
"Obviously."
Geto managed a smile—small, but real.
"Hmm… okay. Why not, I guess."
…
The next day.
Morning mist still clung to the stone paths of the Zen'in estate.
Geto stood opposite Naoya in the courtyard, arms crossed, trying to shake off the heaviness clinging to his thoughts.
Naoya, as usual, looked bored.
"Before we get into Domain Expansion," Naoya began lazily, "let me ask you something."
He rolled his shoulder, warming up like it was just another sparring match.
"Do you really understand your Cursed Technique?"
Geto blinked. "You know my technique. It's simple. It doesn't need anything complicated."
Naoya tilted his head. "That's your excuse?"
Geto frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Naoya clicked his tongue. "I'm asking if you've ever tried to improve it. Expand on it.."
"There's nothing to improve," Geto replied, firm. "Naoya, come on—"
"Wrong."
Naoya's voice sliced through the morning calm.
"I've read the old records," he said smoothly, eyes half-lidded. "Scrolls passed down through the Zen'in clan. One of them mentioned a previous user of Cursed Spirit Manipulation. Said he was a monster of a sorcerer in his era."
Geto stiffened, frowning. "Really?"
Naoya nodded. "Yeah. He mastered a Maximum technique. Called it Uzumaki."
"Uzumaki?" Geto echoed, brow furrowed.
"According to the text," Naoya went on, " he merged multiple cursed spirits into one condensed, devastating strike."
He took a slow step forward, voice dropping just enough to draw Geto in.
"But it gets better. He wrote that Uzumaki wasn't just for brute force. It had... special applications."
"Special how?" Geto asked, cautious but curious.
"If one of the absorbed spirits was Special Grade," Naoya said, a glint in his eye, "and it had an innate cursed technique—the user could do something insane."
He paused, letting the weight of the next line settle.
"They could sacrifice that spirit in the fusion... and temporarily extract and use its cursed technique."
Geto's eyes widened slightly. "Wait—what?"
Naoya only shrugged.
"I just wanted to inform you. Don't get excited. That little secret won't help you open your Domain."
He turned, dusting his sleeves like the subject bored him.
"Now," he said. "Let's go back to the real lesson."
Naoya clapped his hands together—once—and the air snapped.
Click.
The world around them twisted.
The Time Cell Moon Palace had arrived.
Naoya stood at the center of it, arms folded, the very air pulsing with his cursed energy.
"I'll help you understand barrier techniques," he said, "here—inside my Domain."
Then he smiled.
"In exchange, I want something from you."
Geto raised a brow. "Huh? I thought this was charity. Turns out the great Naoya Zen'in's just another greedy bastard."
Naoya chuckled.
"It's nothing much," he said. "Just give me that cursed spirit you picked up when we helped Mei Mei and Utahime. If you still have it."
Geto blinked, surprised. "That old thing? Sure. I barely remember it."
Naoya's eyes narrowed slightly. "You should."
Geto tilted his head. "Anything else?"
Naoya didn't hesitate.
"If you ever come across a cursed spirit with a time-altering ability—anything that bends, loops, freezes, or distorts time—I want it. No questions asked."
Geto was silent for a moment then nodded.
"That's all I ask, commoner. You're not exactly overflowing with valuable things anyway."
Geto snorted. "You really don't know how to ask nicely, huh?"
"I don't need to." Naoya smirked. "When I own the room, I don't ask."
"Then, shall we start?"
…
One week passed quickly—helping Geto, and going through his usual daily life—but during this week, Naoya was experimenting with the cursed spirit.
It was a semi-grade curse with a technique that trapped targets in a loop of repeating actions, essentially freezing them in a continuous cycle. It seemed to affect perception and physical time only for the victim, isolating their actions from the normal flow of time. The curse didn't manipulate time universally—only on an individual basis.
Originally, for every 10 minutes in the loop, a day passed outside.
But after Geto handed the curse over to Naoya and told it to obey him completely, Naoya gave it a new order: to reverse the effect.
Now, 1 day inside the loop equaled only 10 minutes outside.
This was huge for Naoya. He could now train and improve himself with far more time than the outside world would allow. The only problem—according to his calculations—was aging. If someone spent 10 years inside the loop, only about 25 days and 8 hours would pass outside…
But they'd still age 10 years.
And Naoya had no interest in burning his lifespan. He wasn't immortal.
So, he began experimenting—on the curse and on himself—trying to find a way to stop or reduce aging inside the loop and finding new solution for it.
…
"I think I can do it now, Naoya," Geto said, forming a hand seal instinctively as they stood within the golden corridor of Time Cell Moon Palace.
"Domain Expansion: Womb Profusion."
The air shifted. Behind Geto, something began to manifest—
A towering, grotesque totem rose like a monument to suffering. At its base, four bald, malformed spirits crouched, marked by eerie eye-like sigils on their shoulders—the only ones with full bodies. Above them: a writhing stack of severed, screaming cursed spirit heads, fused together in agony.
Flesh-like masses stitched together by thick black thread bulged from the structure, crisscrossed with arms and limbs also marked by those same surgical seams. Gnarled, root-like branches twisted outward, growing from the tower like veins piercing through reality.
And then—
With a sudden ripple of cursed energy, it collapsed. Geto's Domain crumbled as Time Cell Moon Palace forcefully overwrote it.
"Very well," Naoya said, closing his domain with a smug grin. "Commoner, you've been promoted. You're now Commoner++. Congratulations."
"Thank you, Naoya," Geto replied, chuckling despite himself. His body ached—his technique burned for the first time. But he was smiling.
"Don't get sentimental. This was a beneficial exchange. You were easy to teach. You were probably going to figure it out without me anyway," Naoya said, waving it off. "Come on, let's have a drink."
He snapped his fingers.
"Tsumiki!" he called out. A six-year-old maid came waddling over with a tray of juice and snacks, clearly trying her best. In the background, Megumi was glaring with unfiltered rage, clenching his little fists.
"With this treasure... I summon..." Megumi muttered under his breath like he was casting a forbidden ritual.
Geto glanced at the boy, eyebrows raised. "That kid looks... weirdly familiar."
Without missing a beat, Naoya casually kicked Megumi like a football across the courtyard. The boy soared through the air with an angry squeak and landed headfirst into the garden's fountain.
"Oh, yeah," Naoya said casually, "he's Toji's son."
"HUH???" Geto blinked, completely thrown.
...
After sharing a meal with Naoya—still processing the shock of meeting the son of the man who almost killed him—he now sat beside him under the open sky, the two of them staring up at the moon.
"You want to say something, right?" Naoya asked, not bothering to look at Geto as he took a slow sip from his drink. "Spit it out."
Geto exhaled, his voice low. "I feel like my sense of morality is changing. The beliefs I held just a year ago… they're disappearing. One by one."
Naoya didn't respond, letting him continue.
"I'm confused," Geto said. "Why do jujutsu sorcerers risk our lives to protect non-sorcerers? They're the ones who give birth to curses—then we go and kill the monsters they created. All while they live in ignorance… praying to imaginary gods and never acknowledging us."
Naoya glanced at him briefly. "Did someone die?"
"…Yeah. Haibara. Two weeks ago."
A long silence. Then Naoya spoke, his tone even:
"Listen, Geto. No one in this world knows what's truly right or wrong. Not without some divine creature with absolute power declaring it. That's the only way any of those words would mean anything. But there's no such creature—not in this galaxy, at least."
He leaned back, his gaze unfocused.
"Let me tell the difference between ancient morals and modern ones" he said.
"Nietzsche (a German philosopher) understood it: from a naturalistic point of view, actions, words, meaning—they're all meaningless. The universe doesn't care."
He gestured lazily to the moon.
"If an apple falls from a tree and splits in half, or if I smash my own head in with a hammer—it's all just atoms rearranging. Physics. That's it. No judgment. No cosmic punishment."
Geto said nothing, his brows drawn.
"That's why you were hypocritical," Naoya continued. "People back then? At least they were honest. They knew life had no meaning. No innate rights. No real morals. All of that is just... social makeup."
He gave a dry chuckle.
"But your generation?" Naoya scoffed. "You pretend you've inherited something noble. Like you're wearing the same old beliefs, just cleaned up, more 'modern.' But it's the same old underwear, Geto. Washed and recycled. You think it's fresh, but it still stinks."
He leaned forward, fingers loosely wrapped around his glass.
"Look at me," he said, voice flat. "I live carefree in this world. No noble goals. No grand mission. I just chase whatever entertains me."
Geto started to speak—"But—"
"Why protect weaklings who don't even understand us?" Naoya cut him off. "You saw how they celebrated hersdeath. Cheered, even. These people aren't worth saving."
He stared up at the stars for a moment, then continued.
"Morality changes all the time. Just a hundred years ago, marrying a seven-year-old was considered normal. No one batted an eye. Now it's considered monstrous. And if, someday, people decide that incest is acceptable—so long as no one's hurt, no children, condoms used—then guess what? They'll call it moral too."
He glanced sideways at Geto.
"Morality isn't truth. It's consensus. That's all. A shifting tide."
Then, more coldly:
"We're at the top of the food chain. Why pretend we're not?"