Jujutsu Kaisen : Dog Unleashed

Yaga's office was dim, the rain tapping against the windows like a slow metronome. The weight in the room wasn't from the air, but the decision hanging between them. Kishibe stood near the bookshelf, lighting a cigarette with one hand, flipping through the file with the other. He didn't sit. Didn't blink much either.

"Megumi Fushiguro," he muttered. "Toji's brat."

Yaga nodded solemnly. "Living with his sister, Tsumiki. The Zen'in clan's sniffing around."

Kishibe let out a long breath of smoke. "They want to turn him into a proper Zen'in weapon, huh?"

"They'll take him the second he shows potential. And you know what that means."

Kishibe dragged another breath from the cigarette. "Yeah," he said, eyes low. "I've seen that story before. More times than I'd like."

Yaga watched him, reading the fatigue behind the mask. "This isn't a mission, not really. Just a favor. You're the only one I trust with something like this."

Kishibe didn't respond at first. His fingers tightened around the folder. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"I'll look into it. No promises."

---

Evening – Low-Rent Apartment Complex

The wind smelled like exhaust and burnt rice. Kishibe stood across the street, the smoke from his cigarette curling upward in thin strands. He leaned against the rusted frame of a forgotten vending machine. He hadn't moved in nearly an hour.

From his shadowed vantage point, he watched the apartment window glow faintly. Inside, silhouettes flickered—two figures, moving together. A young boy, dark-haired and sharp-eyed. And a girl with soft features and too much worry in her posture.

Tsumiki and Megumi.

The siblings played a board game on the floor, laughing softly. Kishibe watched with an expression that never changed, but his jaw tightened. It was too fragile. Too normal.

And it wouldn't last.

---

He finally crossed the street, coat fluttering in the breeze.

The building was small and cracked, the hallway narrow. Third floor, room 305. He didn't need to knock twice.

Tsumiki opened the door just a crack, cautious but not scared. Her voice was polite.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for Megumi," Kishibe said. "Not here to cause trouble."

Her eyes flicked over his scars, the coat, the eyes. She hesitated.

"I'm his sister. Who are you?"

"Just someone with an old debt."

She didn't fully understand, but something in his voice made her move. She stepped aside.

Megumi stood inside the small living room, eyeing Kishibe like a stray dog watches a stranger—curious, tense, ready to bolt or bite.

"You're a sorcerer?" the boy asked.

Kishibe nodded. "Something like that."

Megumi's brows drew together. "Why are you here?"

"Because your father's past is catching up to you. And because some people want to use you. Bad people. I'm not one of them. I'm just here to keep you out of their reach. For now."

Megumi's voice was colder than his age allowed. "And what do you want?"

Kishibe took a long drag of his cigarette, let the smoke drift between them like a veil.

"Nothing," he said. "You're not a mission. Not yet. I'm just watching. Deciding if you're worth the trouble."

Tsumiki stepped forward, protective. "He's a kid. He doesn't need any of this."

Kishibe met her gaze. Something sharp softened behind his eyes.

"No. He doesn't. But the world doesn't care."

He turned back to Megumi. "I've seen kids eaten alive by this world. If you're smart, you'll learn to bite back."

Megumi didn't flinch. "If I agree to learn… you'll teach me?"

"I'll teach you to survive," Kishibe said. "Nothing more."

Tsumiki swallowed. "And if we say no?"

Kishibe shrugged. "Then I keep watching. Until the Zen'in clan shows up. Until it's too late."

Megumi didn't respond right away. But something in his stance shifted. He wasn't afraid. He was thinking.

Kishibe took one last look at both of them, then moved toward the door.

"Keep your heads down. I'll be nearby."

---

Later that night, Kishibe stood on a rooftop two blocks away, cigarette glowing faintly. He watched the same window flicker with yellow light.

The boy had Toji's eyes.

But not his hunger.

Maybe there was hope.

Or maybe not.

He finished his cigarette and flicked it off the ledge. It spiraled down into the dark.