Multiverse: Rimuru Template

Shiro stretched lazily on the garden bench, his gaze wandering toward the expansive estate that sprawled beyond the boundaries of his private mansion.

"I think I'll take a walk," he said, breaking the silence.

"Where to, young master?" Belfast asked, standing nearby with her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Shiro hesitated, glancing toward the distant silhouette of the main house. "To the main house. I want to look around."

"Very well," Belfast replied with a polite nod.

Shiro blinked, sensing something deliberate in her tone. "Uh, I was planning to go alone, actually."

Belfast's serene expression didn't waver, but her gaze sharpened slightly, subtle yet undeniable. "It would not be proper for the young master to roam the estate unaccompanied."

"I mean, it's not like I'm going to get lost," Shiro said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll be back before you know it."

Truthfully, Shiro had a different reason for wanting to go alone. He wanted to keep his distance from her. Belfast was… breathtaking, and despite his best efforts to stay composed, he found himself drawn to her. Being alone would help clear his head—or so he thought.

Belfast's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though her tone remained firm. "I insist, young master. It is my duty to accompany you."

Realizing there was no room for negotiation, Shiro let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, fine. Let's go together then."

The two of them set off toward the main mansion, its towering presence growing more imposing with every step.

The closer they got, the more impressive the structure became. A masterful blend of traditional Japanese architecture and modern refinement, it boasted curved roofs, intricate wooden carvings, and sprawling gardens that seemed meticulously designed to inspire awe.

"Did they really need a house this big?" Shiro muttered.

"The main mansion reflects the Gojo Clan's history and stature," Belfast explained. "It serves as both a residence and a symbol of the clan's legacy."

Shiro glanced around as they neared the estate. Clan members moved purposefully through the grounds, each one accompanied by attendants.

What struck him most was their uncanny resemblance to Gojo Satoru. Nearly every member bore the same white hair, piercing blue eyes, and tall, commanding posture.

"It's like they're all Gojo clones," Shiro said under his breath, earning a faint chuckle from Belfast.

Despite the activity surrounding him, Shiro felt strangely isolated. None of the clan members greeted him or even acknowledged his presence. Each seemed absorbed in their own world, focused on their individual priorities.

"Is this normal?" Shiro asked, glancing up at Belfast.

"Quite. The Gojo Clan values independence. Interactions are typically reserved for formal occasions or pressing matters," she explained.

Shiro sighed, already feeling his curiosity wane. "Alright, this is boring. Let's head back—"

A sudden BOOM cut him off mid-sentence. The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly, followed by a series of resounding shockwaves.

"What was that?" Shiro asked, his curiosity reigniting.

Belfast's gaze turned toward the source of the disturbance. "It's coming from the garden behind the main house."

Without hesitation, Shiro strode off in that direction, Belfast keeping pace beside him.

When they reached the garden, Shiro stopped abruptly, his eyes widening slightly.

An elderly man stood at the center of the open space, his posture upright and perfect. He moved through a series of martial arts forms, but there was nothing ordinary about his practice. A purplish aura surrounded him, Curse Energy, pulsating with raw energy.

With each punch and kick he delivered, the air around him seemed to crack and ripple, as if space itself bent under the weight of his strikes. Shockwaves echoed through the garden, scattering leaves and shaking nearby trees.

"Who… is that?" Shiro asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That is Lord Gojo Hiroto, the current head of the Gojo Clan," Belfast said, her tone respectful.

Shiro couldn't take his eyes off the display. Every movement was a perfect blend of precision and power. He felt a deep sense of awe as he watched the old man, his mind buzzing with questions.

'Great Sage…'

[Affirmative.]

Shiro didn't need to say more. Great Sage understood his intentions immediately.

A few minutes passed as Shiro observed the old man, his attention fully absorbed.

[Notice: Acquisition of 'Cursed Energy Reinforcement' successful.]

Shiro's eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. His body seemed to respond instinctively. As additional information flooded his mind, he felt his posture, breathing, and movements begin to shift.

Without thinking, Shiro adjusted his stance, exuding the presence of a trained martial artist. His breathing slowed, becoming deliberate and steady, and the faintest trace of cursed energy began to pulse around him.

Belfast noticed the change, her brows raising ever so slightly. "Young master?"

Shiro didn't answer. His gaze remained locked on the old man, excitement bubbling within him.

…

As Shiro adjusted his posture instinctively, exuding the aura of a seasoned martial artist, he suddenly felt a sharp gaze fix on him.

The elderly man—Lord Gojo Hiroto—paused mid-motion, his purplish aura dimming slightly as he turned toward them. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Shiro's, and for a brief moment, an unspoken tension filled the air.

Belfast, standing beside Shiro, bowed respectfully at the clan head's glance, her composure unshaken.

Hiroto's brows furrowed ever so slightly. Though he gave Belfast only a passing glance, his attention lingered on Shiro. There was something about the boy that struck him as… unusual.

At first, he perceived Shiro as a highly trained martial artist—his posture was too refined, his stance too flawless to belong to an ordinary child. But the sight of such mastery in someone no older than five or six left him puzzled.

Then, something clicked. For the briefest moment, Hiroto saw an image of the current bearer of Six Eyes was standing before him. The resemblance was uncanny, though it extended beyond appearance to the boy's poise and presence.

A subtle grin crept across the old man's wrinkled face.

"Another genius?" Hiroto muttered under his breath, his tone both curious and amused. As he observed Shiro further, his intrigue only deepened. The boy's stance left no openings, every movement radiating precision and discipline.

But just as quickly as his excitement rose, it was tempered by reality. Hiroto's keen senses assessed Shiro's cursed energy reserves, and his brows furrowed once more.

A regretful sigh escaped his lips. The boy's cursed energy quantity was minimal—barely enough to place him between a Grade 4 and Grade 3 Jujutsu Sorcerer. For all his apparent talent, his potential seemed limited by this unfortunate fact.

"Such a waste," Hiroto murmured, shaking his head.

Unbeknownst to the old man, what Hiroto perceived might be accurate—but it only accounted for Shiro's Curse Energy.

Shiro's magicules, a foreign energy entirely alien to this world, remained carefully hidden, far surpassing what any normal sorcerer could fathom.

Hiroto took a step forward, his commanding presence filling the garden. "Young man! Come here," he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

It wasn't a question; it was an order.

Shiro's feet moved almost on their own, and before he realized it, he was standing face-to-face with the clan head, his gaze locked on the elderly man.

"When did you start training in martial arts?" Hiroto asked, his voice calm but probing.

Shiro blinked, caught off guard. "I… I've never trained in martial arts," he replied honestly.

The words hung in the air, and Hiroto's sharp eyes bore into him, searching for any hint of deceit. Finding none, his expression shifted from curiosity to shock.

He turned his gaze to Belfast, his silent question evident.

Belfast met his gaze with her usual calm demeanor. "Young master Shiro has never undergone any martial arts training," she confirmed.

Hiroto's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he said nothing. His astonishment was palpable, though it was quickly masked by his stoic exterior.

"Such talent…" Hiroto muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

He looked back at Shiro, his amazement mingled with a lingering sense of regret. Despite the boy's natural ability, his cursed energy reserves were painfully small. If Shiro had possessed greater reserves, his potential would have been limitless.

With a heavy sigh, Hiroto shook his head. "If only…" he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Shiro tilted his head, sensing the old man's conflicted emotions but choosing not to press the issue.

Belfast remained silent, her watchful gaze flickering between the two. She could tell Hiroto was impressed, but she also understood the source of his regret. Shiro, however, seemed unfazed, standing confidently despite the weight of the clan head's scrutiny.

Hiroto finally straightened, his expression softening slightly. "You're an interesting one, boy," he said. "We'll see what becomes of you."

With that, he turned away, resuming his practice as if the encounter had never happened. His Curse Energy reignited, and the air trembled once more as his strikes shattered the serene silence of the garden.