The basement was damp and cold, with no light except for a few incandescent lamps casting a dim yellow glow.
Two figures, one large and one small, were barely visible beneath the faint light.
"It's this late, and that woman still hasn't come. I suppose she won't be coming. You can get another good night's sleep," Aoki said after roughly calculating the time.
Igarashi Amaha raised his eyes and glanced at Aoki. "Why do you sound a little disappointed when you say that?"
"What are you talking about? You're my dear little brother. How could I bear to see you hurt?" Aoki said.
"Has your brain already started shrinking? I don't want to be your little brother," Igarashi Amaha said.
For some reason, ever since their last heart-to-heart, Aoki had taken it upon himself to call him his little brother. Igarashi Amaha felt rather helpless about it. They could now talk about anything, but in his heart, Aoki had always been his friend, not his family.
Aoki didn't mind at all. "Don't be so hurtful. I'm so good to you. Come on, let me hear you call me onii-chan."
"Boring."
"Tch, you're no fun. You're just a kid, yet you're so unlikable. Tokikawa was about your age back then, but he was much more likable than you." Aoki pursed his lips.
"Boring."
"You're the boring one. I don't know what you're being so tsundere about. Tch, a word of advice: tsunderes never get a good ending."
"Tch, you're no bland male protagonist, and I'm certainly no tsundere blonde. My hair is black, after all, isn't it? Anyway, I preferred you the way you were at first. You were useful and didn't talk much. As for how you are now... I can't say anything nice about it. You're like some creep, going around claiming little brothers." Igarashi Amaha shook his head in distaste.
Aoki waved his skeletal arm. "What does any of that mean? Blond hair, black hair-you keep saying things nobody can understand."
Igarashi Amaha ignored him. Aoki paused, then suddenly said, "Brat, how about we make a deal? There's something in it that can make you stronger."
At those words, Igarashi Amaha opened his tightly shut eyes and looked at Aoki, raising an eyebrow with interest. "Let's hear it."
"You little rascal." Aoki smiled, unsurprised. "You know my Cursed Technique. It doesn't have much combat capability."
"Mm. Go on." Igarashi Amaha nodded.
Aoki continued, "I was born with a support Cursed Technique, yet I gained the combat ability of a grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer. That took quite a bit of effort. After running around so many places all over the world, I was bound to work out a few combat techniques best suited to Jujutsu Sorcerers. Want to know them, my adorable little brother?"
With that, he gave Igarashi Amaha a mischievous smile, looking rather frivolous.
"What's the price? Tell me," Igarashi Amaha asked without hesitation. He very much coveted those combat techniques Aoki called the best suited to Jujutsu Sorcerers.
Even Jujutsu High only taught the most basic hand-to-hand combat. As for someone who had truly mastered it, there was probably only that man-the Heavenly Tyrant known as the Jujutsu Sorcerer Killer, Toji Fushiguro!
Of course, Toji Fushiguro's incredible hand-to-hand prowess also had a great deal to do with his body, which brought the subject to Heavenly Restriction.
Heavenly Restriction was a special kind of Binding Vow. Unlike other Binding Vows, which required two parties to enter into them, it was forcibly bestowed at birth. Whether one wanted it or not, one had to accept it. It often involved sacrificing an innate attribute in exchange for some powerful ability.
Toji Fushiguro was one such example. He had forsaken Cursed Energy to gain a perfect body, the true pinnacle of hand-to-hand combat.
An ultimate Heavenly Restriction was not a curse, but a gift!
Returning to the subject, Aoki grinned unsurprisingly at Igarashi Amaha's words. After a moment's thought, he said, "It's actually very simple. Just call me onii-chan once, and I'll..."
"Big brother."
"I'll tell..." At that familiar form of address, Aoki froze on the spot. Only after a long while did he turn to look at Igarashi Amaha in disbelief, his lips trembling uncontrollably. "C-could you say that again...?"
"Big~ brother." Igarashi Amaha patiently called him that again. After all, accepting favors meant making concessions. To get the hand-to-hand techniques best suited to Jujutsu Sorcerers, all he had to do was call him big brother a few times. There was no shame in that.
Silence fell...
After a while, Aoki, who had remained silent, spoke. "My ability to learn is special. No matter how much I learn, it won't affect me. Tell me what would complement your Cursed Technique. I'll pick the best option for you. Bite off more than you can chew, and you won't digest it."
Igarashi Amaha sank into thought. Aoki was right. He had offensive abilities; he only needed to choose hand-to-hand techniques that complemented his Cursed Technique. Too many would only become a burden.
After a long while, Igarashi Amaha raised his head and looked firmly at Aoki. "My current means of attack let me control a certain amount of flame, so I want to learn a technique that combines speed with explosive power concentrated on a single point, as well as a blade style. That'll be enough."
"Hmm... speed, and tremendous strength concentrated on one point... hmm..."
Smack! Aoki slapped one hand against the floor and spoke astonishingly fast. "I've got it! Do you know Hua Capital?"
Igarashi Amaha raised an eyebrow. He had lived there for decades in his previous life. How could he not know it? He asked, "I do."
Hua Capital was a land with a thousand years of history and heritage, including no shortage of martial arts. If it really was there, there was nothing strange about it.
"There's a city in Hua Capital called Yang City, and in Yang City there's a place called Fochuan. Go there and ask around for someone named Ye Qingtian. He's one of my countless masters. His abilities will absolutely meet your needs," Aoki said.
Hearing that, Igarashi Amaha understood. Powerful combat techniques, Yang City, the surname Ye-he had already more or less guessed the fist style Aoki meant. If he remembered correctly, Satoru Gojo also knew some of it in the original story, though only an incomplete version.
Hua Capital, we'll be meeting again. Igarashi Amaha couldn't help feeling somewhat wistful.
"It's such a big place. Finding him myself would be a pain. Why not just take me there? You're all alone anyway. Stick with me, and if I'm in a good mood, I might even support you in your old age." Hearing that Aoki meant for him to go alone, Igarashi Amaha was a little puzzled.
Aoki waved a hand and chuckled, muttering quietly, "Ah, I'm afraid I won't last that long."
"What do you mean, you won't last?" Igarashi Amaha's gaze sharpened.
At Igarashi Amaha's question, a flicker of panic crossed Aoki's eyes. He hurriedly said, "N-no, nothing. I said Ye Qingtian's teaching methods are very grueling. I'm afraid you won't be able to stick it out. Right, didn't you need a blade style too?"
Hearing Aoki's words, Igarashi Amaha stared at him suspiciously. But the lighting was dim, and he couldn't make out the panic on Aoki's face. After watching him for a while without finding anything amiss, he could only let it go and begin asking about blade styles.
Seeing this, Aoki breathed a sigh of relief, puzzled inwardly. Why does it feel like this brat's five senses have gotten sharper? Strange.
As for blade styles, he was rapidly reviewing them in his mind. Within a few seconds, he settled on one and said, "Spain, Malaga!"
Please support me in any way you can. I'd be endlessly grateful.