That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

Weakness is a sin, and power is absolute.

This brutal, uncompromising dogma had been the sole, governing rule of the Zenin Clan for over a thousand years.

Therefore, when Naobito Zenin officially announced Suzuki’s violent ascension to the seat of Clan Head, the elite sorcerers Suzuki had just beaten half to death couldn’t utter a single word of protest. They simply bowed their heads and accepted it. In this clan, the strongest took everything.

Yet, even if Suzuki hadn’t possessed overwhelming physical dominance, his bloodline legitimacy was undeniable. He was the son of the former Head, Naobito, making him perfectly eligible for the succession.

So, no matter how much the elders seethed with anger, how much Naoya choked on his own envy, or how terrified the Kukuru Unit was of him... they all knew resistance was completely futile.

Suzuki Zenin was now officially the 28th Head of the Zenin Clan.

Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!

”Gah!”

Naobito sat off to the side, leaning against a wooden pillar. He had already physically distanced himself from the center of authority. Since he was no longer the Clan Head, he simply focused on his true passion: drinking his weight in high-end alcohol.

Meanwhile, Maki and Mai stood a few paces behind Suzuki, completely at a loss. Watching Suzuki’s terrifyingly swift ascension to power felt surreal.

Their thoughts drifted back to their childhood, remembering the countless times Suzuki had stood between them and the clan’s cruelty. He had been the only one willing to bloody his own knuckles to protect them, ruthlessly beating down anyone who dared mock them until the twins became entirely untouchable.

Had he done all of that because he was in love with them?

No. Both twins knew exactly where they stood. Suzuki cared for them in his own protective way—like a true family, a concept that was entirely alien within the walls of the Zenin compound.

The harsh reality? Despite being the biological daughters of Ogi Zenin—a Special Grade 1 Sorcerer—Maki and Mai were legally and socially treated as servants, tools, or worse, breeding stock. If Suzuki hadn’t aggressively intervened and shielded them, their inevitable fate would have been forced marriages. They would have been sold off to bolster the genetics of other powerful sorcerer families, prized only for their beauty and bloodline.

It was an incredibly vulgar reality, but it was the absolute truth.

”So, what exactly are you planning to do now?” Naobito asked, his words slurring slightly as he looked at his youngest son with lazy amusement. He had easily accepted his defeat. Honestly, he was relieved. He had always been too lazy to manage the clan’s exhausting political problems anyway.

”You want to fundamentally change everything, right?” Naobito scoffed lightly. ”But how? Even Satoru Gojo, the mightiest god of our era, is entirely incapable of changing the system. Even sitting in the Clan Head’s seat, you’ll find that nothing actually changes.”

Naobito glanced sideways at Maki and Mai. ”You fought your way to the top just to ensure these two could live comfortably, right? Well, congratulations. You’ve achieved it. You can cast a massive shadow to protect them. But what about everyone else?”

Naobito gestured to the battered clan members slowly gathering in the courtyard below. ”As the Clan Head, are you just going to ignore the system itself that is rotting? Or are you going to realize you can’t save everyone?”

”SHUT UP, OLD MAN!” Mai snapped, glaring venomously at Naobito.

Naobito just threw his head back and laughed. ”Oh-ho? You really made her fall head over heels for you, didn’t you? As expected of my son~! Gyahahaha~!”

As Naobito laughed, a thick vein bulged on Mai’s forehead. Her fingers twitched toward her revolver, genuinely wishing she could put a few brass rounds into the old man’s liver.

Yet, Maki remained completely silent.

Previously, Maki’s ultimate, driving goal had been to become the Clan Head. That ambition was the exact reason she had fled to Tokyo Jujutsu High to grow stronger. But Naobito’s cynical words struck a deep chord within her.

If she had actually become the Clan Head, what exactly would she have done to change the system? Would she have just sat on the throne and maintained the status quo?

As Naobito pointed out, the twins weren’t the only victims. The clan was built on the suffering of hundreds of marginalized members. And inevitably, the future would produce more ”failures” like Maki and Mai.

There was only one Suzuki. He could save his immediate circle, but how could one man reform a thousand-year-old system of abuse?

”So, instead of overthinking and trying to do something stupidly heroic, you should just sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor,” Naobito advised, raising his gourd.

Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!

Truthfully, Naobito didn’t hate the idea of passing the torch to Suzuki. He had secretly watched his son train, study, and strategize with terrifying dedication. Suzuki’s path was entirely unorthodox, but the results were undeniable. Suzuki had just ravaged the entire Zenin combat force and emerged completely spotless.

Unlike the arrogant, short-sighted Naoya, Suzuki was cold, capable, and terrifyingly reliable. Naobito even secretly respected the fact that Suzuki had grown so strong specifically to protect his family.

”But reforming the clan’s core philosophy is a completely different matter,” Naobito warned, wiping his mouth. ”You should just follow tradition.”

Changing the status quo of Jujutsu society was considered impossible. The conservative elders had maintained the exact same archaic rules for thousands of years, entirely ignoring the rapid evolution of the outside world. Why? Because to the elites, the system was already perfect.

”You’ve worked hard enough,” Naobito sighed. ”Just focus on your physics hobbies, and—”

”I am not like you, Father.”

”Hmm?” Naobito blinked.

”You are just lazy,” Suzuki stated coldly, adjusting his glasses.

”...” Naobito fell completely silent.

”I am entirely different.”

Before Naobito could ask what his son meant, Suzuki turned his back on him and walked toward the edge of the veranda, looking down at the massive crowd gathered in the courtyard. Every single conscious member of the Zenin Clan had been ordered to assemble.

As Suzuki’s figure appeared above them, the reactions varied wildly. The Kukuru unit looked down at the dirt, depressed and fearful. The surviving Hei members looked up, dazed and humiliated. Yet, every single one of them knew with absolute certainty that the young man standing above them was their new god.

”Listen to me,” Suzuki’s voice echoed across the quiet courtyard, cold and authoritative. ”From this exact moment forward, I am no longer just your relative, or the eccentric son of the former Head. I am the 28th Head of the Zenin Clan. I am your absolute leader. And as your leader, let me assure you that the stupid, archaic feudal era you have been living in is officially over.”

”....”

The courtyard was dead silent.

Suzuki ignored their shock and continued his clinical dissection of their society. ”For a millennium, this family has operated on a deeply flawed, idiotic tradition. You measure human worth based entirely on a genetic lottery—specifically, Cursed Energy reserves and inherited techniques. Because of this braindead philosophy, you have abused, marginalized, and wasted eighty percent of this family’s actual potential.”

Suzuki’s eyes swept over the crowd. ”You beat and starved the Kukuru unit. You sidelined and degraded the women. You let fragile egos dictate your combat strategies. That is not just cruel; it is disastrous for our future.”

Suzuki looked directly at the battered, confused members of the Kukuru unit, who were entirely used to being treated like garbage. He completely ignored the elite Hei unit, viewing their traditional arrogance as a liability.

”Let me be absolutely clear,” Suzuki commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. ”From this second forward, I do not care what your last name is. I do not care how much Cursed Energy you have. I do not care if you can see Curses, or if you are entirely blind to them. The only thing that exists within this compound from now on is utility.”

”If you know how to manage money, you have value. If you understand the law, you have value. If you know how to organize supplies and plan routes, you have value. We are no longer a glorified martial arts cult. From now on, you get what you earn based on your actual skills, not your birthright. I am tearing down this outdated, traditional garbage and rebuilding this family into a highly organized, modern mercenary group.”

”...”

The clan members were completely lost. They barely understood half of what he meant by a ”modern mercenary group,” but the sheer, overwhelming confidence radiating from Suzuki kept them glued to his every word.

”Mai. Open the briefcase and start handing out the agreements,” Suzuki ordered, not looking back.

”Huh?” Mai blinked in confusion.

She stepped forward and opened the heavy leather briefcase Suzuki had brought with him from Kyoto. Inside were hundreds of thick stacks of paper, filled with complicated modern rules that she couldn’t even begin to read. But she knew exactly what they represented.

”Maki, help her.”

”Right.”

As the twins began walking through the battered crowd, handing a thick stack of papers to every single clan member, Suzuki continued tearing down their old reality.

”What Maki and Mai are handing you are your new, official work agreements. Starting right now, the Zenin ranking system is dead. Every single person standing in this courtyard will get a guaranteed monthly paycheck, paid vacation days, and full health coverage—meaning we pay for your doctor, eye, and dentist visits.”

”....”

The Kukuru members stared at the papers in their hands, completely paralyzed by shock. Paid vacation? Free doctors?!

”If you do a great job, you get extra cash bonuses every few months,” Suzuki continued smoothly. ”If you adapt to modern training and follow orders, you will rank up and get more power and money—regardless of who your parents are or how much Cursed Energy you have.”

”....”

”However,” Suzuki’s voice suddenly dropped an octave, radiating a terrifying, suffocating aura that made the entire courtyard physically tremble.

”This extreme generosity comes with a catch: you follow my rules without question. Bullying, hazing, or acting like you’re better than someone else just because of your ’Zenin blood’ will get you fired immediately. And because of the dangerous secrets we keep in this new line of work...”

Suzuki adjusted his glasses, the lenses glinting ominously in the fading sunlight.

”...getting fired doesn’t just mean you lose your paycheck. It means I will kill you on the spot.”

”...”

”Do not test me.”

The entire clan swallowed hard, terrified by the cold threat. Yet, as the marginalized members of the Kukuru unit looked down at the employment contracts in their bruised hands—seeing actual salaries, benefits, and a promise of merit-based respect—a strange, entirely new feeling began to bloom within the Zenin compound.

Hope.

---

Well, it will be Arifureta after this, so be prepared!