The days passed without fanfare, like a stream trickling under the summer sun—no great waves, no sudden turns, neither sorrow nor joy—flowing quietly toward the sea.
Kira liked that kind of calm. In steady rhythm, every traveler eventually reached their destination.
Over the past few days, he and his students had grown comfortable with one another, and his fingernails were growing at a normal rate again. Things were good.
He still hadn't found the hand, but Kira had stopped caring much.
Yuji Itadori was gradually mastering the flow of Cursed Energy—a talented student. Fushiguro was his usual taciturn self; Kira appreciated the quiet composure, though it'd be nicer if the kid weren't such a gossip behind closed doors. Nobara and Yuji still bickered as loudly as ever. Hoshino Ei wore that same faint smile every day.
Life shifted here and there, but everything was still under control. That was comfortable enough for Kira.
Until—
"Overtime? Did you just say overtime?"
Kiyotaka Ijichi flinched. His brow furrowed even deeper—though in fairness, his brow was perpetually furrowed. He bowed apologetically, trembling.
"I'm terribly sorry! But the situation is extremely urgent!"
"Gojo-sensei is away on assignment. Of all available combat assets, only you can handle a Special Grade Cursed Spirit, Kira-san!"
Tch. Gojo.
Can't even beat the guy in a fight...
His nails started growing faster.
Kira lowered his head and bit at his thumbnail, muttering:
"Jujutsu sorcerers are all garbage."
His voice was low, but Ijichi—standing right beside him—caught every word. The man's brow furrowed even tighter, creasing into a deep, worried furrow that made him look older and more pitiful than ever.
"What if I refuse?"
"If you refuse..."
Ijichi averted his eyes, pressed his lips together, and said haltingly:
"Per orders from above, I'm to deploy all available forces. Meaning... I would dispatch the first-years to handle this incident."
"How interesting."
Kira arched an eyebrow, studying him with amusement.
So that's the game. The higher-ups probably want me to refuse.
Sending four first-years against a Special Grade incident was a pipe dream.
Yuji Itadori had swallowed Sukuna's Finger. Gojo had bought him a stay of execution, but the brass still wanted the boy dead.
This was their chance—using a Special Grade Curse to stage a clean, plausible kill.
And if Kira turned down the mission, he'd take the fall too.
Interesting. Maybe I should just team up with Gojo and clean house at the top.
"Kira-san..."
"One week of paid leave."
"That's... I can't authorize that..."
"Three days."
"...Fine. Deal."
The hapless man nodded emphatically. He didn't have the authority, but given the urgency, pacifying Kira came first.
"You're just a wage slave. Since when do you approve leave?"
Ijichi was on the verge of a breakdown.
It was overcast that day. Windows had detected the Cursed Womb three hours earlier. By the time Kira and Ijichi reached the scene, evening was closing in.
A cold, clinging drizzle drifted at an angle, each transparent drop turning a dull grey against the leaden sky. They floated in the air like pale moths.
The hospital had been completely locked down. Residents within five hundred meters had been evacuated. Windows had already pulled out. All that remained were rings upon rings of yellow police tape wrapped around the building, and large barricades at the entrance stamped with KEEP OUT.
Police, firefighters, a thick crowd of civilians—all pressed against the cordon, waiting in anxious dread. Panic was spreading.
The hospital sat in the rain, vast and still as death. It looked pristine on the outside, but decay seethed within.
Like a corpse. The corpse of something enormous, already rotting from the inside, filling the air with the stench.
Kira approached under a black umbrella.
The onlookers parted for him as if a savior had arrived, hope flickering in their eyes.
He ducked under the tape. Ijichi followed close behind.
"Building 2 of the Eishu Juvenile Detention Center. Five residents are currently trapped inside with the Cursed Womb. If the Womb fully matures, it's projected to reach Special Grade..."
Ijichi rattled off the situation without pause:
"...Primary objective is the rescue of five hostages. If feasible, consider whether to exorcise the Cursed Spirit."
"Got it."
Kira filed it away in his own terms:
Primary objective: exorcise the Cursed Spirit. If feasible, consider whether to rescue the five hostages based on my mood.
His mood? Foul.
He checked his watch. Already 8:30.
He'd been on overtime for half an hour.
"Ma'am, you can't come through here—please step back, please—"
A commotion erupted from beyond the cordon.
Kira glanced over. A woman—hair wild and disheveled—was trying to force her way through. Security held her back.
She flailed her arms, her face contorted with anguish, but her shaking voice carried a sliver of desperate, impossible hope:
"My son—Tadashi—is my son Tadashi all right?"
"Ma'am, please step back. We suspect a toxic gas release inside the hospital. Maintain a safe distance..."
A mother. This woman who was no longer young cried out in grief. Rain struck her face and mixed with her tears, matting her already tangled hair.
Kira observed it all with a level gaze, folded his umbrella, and walked in.
I'll save one. No more than that—I'm in a bad mood.
"Be careful in there."
Ijichi took the umbrella Kira handed him. With his other hand he formed a sword-seal, pressing two fingers to his lips:
"Lower the Curtain."
"Born of darkness, unto deepest dark."
The chant echoed from every direction.
"All impurity, all corruption—tear it out by the root."
The sky went dark. Something enormous and invisible descended—a vast canopy lowering inch by inch, its leading edge a black shadow materializing at the horizon.
It spread like ink dropped into water, bleeding downward from the zenith to the earth. Within moments, the entire hospital had plunged into darkness.
Nanami Kira stepped forward without looking back, and vanished into that profound black.
"All impurity, all corruption—tear it out by the root."