"So who is this Amanai, for you to meet her?" Naraku asked, trailing a few paces behind him, her tone deceptively casual.
Naoya didn't even glance back.
"I'm her sugar daddy," he said flatly, like he was commenting on the weather.
Naraku stopped in her tracks, visibly repulsed.
"You men are truly disgusting."
Naoya laughed—a low, amused sound that echoed off the hallway walls.
"What do you think I'll say to that?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a grin too wide.
"Try me. I can be more misogynistic than anyone."
"Say whatever you want," Naraku replied, arms crossed. "You don't mean ninety percent of what comes out of your mouth anyway."
He turned fully, walking backwards now, hands tucked into his sleeves like he had all the time in the world.
"Oh?" he said. "You can tell?"
His voice dropped an octave.
"Then tell me—was I lying when I said you were the prettiest Slave in this house?"
Naraku's expression didn't shift.
"Every time you open your mouth, I remember why I sharpen my knives at night."
Naoya chuckled again.
"Any woman who can't walk three steps behind a man," he said lightly, "deserves to be stabbed."
There was a long silence.
Then:
"Good," Naraku said, stepping past him.
"I was planning to get stabbed anyway."
Naoya sighed dramatically, falling into step beside her.
"Unfortunately for you," he muttered, "I forgot my dagger."
She tilted her head just enough to glance at him from the corner of her eye.
"Then use your words. They hurt more anyway."
Naoya's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Careful, Naraku. You say things like that, and I might start thinking you enjoy our little chats."
"I don't."
"You do."
"I fantasize about gouging your throat open with a cursed toothpick."
"See? That's practically flirting."
She scoffed, refusing to let him get the last word.
"One day I'll kill you, Naoya."
He leaned in as they walked, voice dropping to a near-murmur.
"You keep saying that like it isn't foreplay."
…
The moment Naoya entered the Room, a hand launched at him.
"AUUUURAAAAA!" Amanai shrieked, face twisted in fury, her palm aimed straight for his cheek.
Naoya caught her wrist without flinching, eyes narrowing like she was a retard.
"Did you think I'm Gojo?" he said, voice dry. "You thought I'd just let you slap me ? I believe in equality. So what if I slap the shit out of you now?"
"You bastard, do you know how much suffering I had?" Riko shouted
"What makes you think I care?" Naoya said with a shrug. "And shouldn't you be thankful? I saved your life, after all."
"Liar!" Kuroi screamed, stepping forward with fire in her eyes. "You put me in your basement for three days. After that, you sent me flying out of the country. Then you tried to ship me off to North Korea for... some reason. Meanwhile, you were probably lounging around reading some disgusting hentai. Saving me? Are you high?"
"It's called character development"
"DIEEEEEE!" Amanai screeched, lunging again with another slap.
Naoya caught her wrist—again—but this time with more force, his patience thinning.
"If Gojo didn't have a thing for you, I'd have you scrubbing toilets in a maid uniform until your hands bled."
"HUUU—?!" Amanai's eyes went wide, ready to shout—
But Naoya cut her off, voice sharp.
"What's the reason you came here?" he asked, eyes like a blade, no longer amused.
A beat of silence.
"I want to see Gojo and Geto again," Amanai said, forcing the words out like they burned on her tongue.
…
A few moments later, with Amanai gone and silence settling again, Naraku spoke from her usual place behind him—
Sharp, casual, venom laced in honey.
"Again—who is that Amanai, exactly, for her to ask to see Gojo and for you to just accept it?"
Naoya smirked slightly.
"An annoying brat who used to be the Star Plasma Vessel."
"Star Plasma Vessel??" Naraku asked confused.
"I'm too lazy to explain…" Naoya said, then glanced over his shoulder at Naraku with a meaningful look. His voice dropped into something slower, silkier. "But if you want to come sit on my lap and ask nicely, maybe I'll give you the rundown."
Naraku's expression didn't change. Cold. Still.
But the flick of her eyes—like a scalpel tracing flesh—said enough.
"Pass," she said. "I'd rather pour acid in my ears than hear you talk with that tone again."
Naoya chuckled, turning fully to face her now. "So dramatic. I thought maids were supposed to be obedient."
"I thought men were supposed to die quietly," Naraku shot back, walking past him.
"Maybe if you smiled more, I'd feel generous."
"Maybe if you bled more, I'd feel something."
"You're cute when you're angry."
"You're pathetic when you're breathing."
"You know, most people would be honored to sit on my lap."
"Most people don't have standards. Or self-respect. Or knives hidden in their sleeves."
"you're...."
"and you are...."
…
The next day came.
As usual, Naoya was training Megumi—more like tossing him around like a chew toy in the name of "lessons." But the spark in Naoya's eyes was gone. Boredom crept into his movements like a yawn waiting to happen.
Then the door slid open.
Tsumiki stepped in, wearing a maid outfit that didn't suit her—because it wasn't meant to. She held a drink in one hand and a plastic-wrapped adult magazine in the other.
With practiced silence, she offered the drink and magazine to Naoya.
"Ah, perfect timing," Naoya said, smirking as he took both like they were sacred offerings.
Then Tsumiki turned and handed Megumi a simple bottle of water.
Megumi stared at her, frozen. The bottle trembled in her hand. His fists clenched.
The moment she stepped back, he turned sharply toward Naoya, voice tight and filled with venom.
"Where is your personal maid? Why would you drag Tsumiki into this—just to hand you your garbage?"
Naoya took a slow sip, not even glancing at Megumi at first.
"I told Naraku to go look for something I need," he said casually. "Had a better idea on how to speed up your little jujutsu learning curve."
He finally looked at Megumi, eyes glinting.
"And as for your sister… I just thought a little motivation might help you focus."
He reached out and flicked a lock of Tsumiki's hair, letting it slip between his fingers.
"Cute, isn't she?"
The silence that followed was sharp, humming with tension.
Megumi's cursed energy surged for a moment, the air distorting faintly around his frame.
Naoya only grinned wider.
"You want to hit me?" he asked, almost playful. "Then learn faster. That's the deal."