"What traffic? The sidewalk looks perfectly wide enough, doesn't it?"
Go-go-go-go-go-go...
Inside the cramped taxi, the air suddenly congealed. It felt like a heavy, solid mass pressing against the driver's neck, making every breath a labor.
Cold sweat trickled down the man's face. He didn't dare look at the arm resting on his shoulder. In his mind, it wasn't a human limb at all, but a weight—a heavy, crouching spirit clinging to his back.
The malice was so thick it felt tangible. The driver swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Customer... you're joking, right? You can't drive on the sidewalk."
Kira Nanami tilted his head, his expression one of genuine confusion. "But I'm going to be late."
"I am a simple salaryman. A salaryman cannot be late. Therefore, driving on the sidewalk is a perfectly logical solution, isn't it?"
What ill intent could Kira possibly have? He simply didn't want to be late. If the sidewalk was the only way to maintain his schedule, then so be it.
The driver's face was frozen in a mask of terror. Internally, he was screaming, but his body refused to move. If this were anyone else, he would have unleashed a torrent of abuse, but every pore in his body was screaming at him: Do not provoke this man.
"Customer, look, just a few more minutes... let's just listen to the music—"
"It seems you understand nothing," Kira whispered, his grip tightening. The silhouette of the pink feline became sharper, its weight increasing until it felt like the driver's entire frame would collapse under the pressure.
"Your service attitude was quite good. Let me give you a 'Like.'"
Kira's thumb began to rise, his other four fingers curled into a fist—the universal gesture of approval. He held the position for a heartbeat, and then his thumb began to slowly, deliberately descend toward his index finger...
"Kira-kun? Is that you?"
A booming, gravelly voice cut through the tension from outside the car.
The thumb stopped in mid-air. Kira glanced at the window, seeing a massive shadow cast against the blue-tinted glass.
After a moment's hesitation, Kira withdrew his Shikigami and rolled down the window. He gave a sharp nod. "Todo."
"Ha! I knew I recognized my brother's silhouette!" Aoi Todo sat atop a high-displacement motorcycle, grinning broadly. "Destiny keeps pulling us together, doesn't it?"
To be honest, Kira Nanami could never quite grasp Todo's logic for "brotherhood." Did matching taste in women truly constitute a blood bond?
In Todo's mind, the logic was simple: Kira-brother, we met today and found our souls intertwined. We both appreciate a magnificent posterior. The weather is fine; why not become sworn brothers? We seek not to be born on the same day, but to appreciate the same curves. Should we encounter the idol Takada, we shall support one another. What say you?
Kira's internal translation of the sentiment was: This is absurd.
Still, he maintained his calm facade. "Good morning."
But we can never truly be brothers, Kira thought privately. My heart belongs to the hand.
"What's the matter? Stuck in traffic?" Despite his brutish appearance, Todo was surprisingly observant. He patted the pillion seat of his bike. "Want a lift?"
Kira glanced at the driver—who was drenched in sweat and barely breathing—and then at his watch. 7:25 AM. Even the sidewalk wouldn't save his schedule now. He looked at Todo's sleek Kawasaki Z1000 and nodded.
He patted the driver's shoulder one last time—each pat making the man flinch violently—before stepping out of the car.
The motor roared to life. The Kawasaki Z1000 "Serpent" was world-renowned for its stability and terrifying speed. In Todo's hands, the machine became fluid, weaving through the stagnant sea of cars like water. It accelerated into a heavy black blur, trailing a thin line of exhaust like a missile, vanishing toward the horizon.
Only when the roar of the engine finally faded did the taxi driver collapse against his seat, exhaling a long, shuddering breath.
He was soaked to the bone.
His stride was measured as if by a ruler—each step exactly the same distance from the last. Kira Nanami loved this regularity. He loved the safety of a routine where every footfall landed exactly where it was intended. It brought him peace.
Lately, his equilibrium had been off. Whether it was nearly killing the driver or vaporizing those Curse Users last night, his "nature" was leaking out.
He kept his back straight as he ascended the shrine steps. Lavender swayed by the path, its scent drifting through the air.
There were too many disruptions in his life lately. Forced business trips to unfamiliar environments; mandatory overtime (which was, in his opinion, absolute shit); and this inexplicable rise in his reputation. It was all so... irritating.
And when he was irritated, his nails grew. Kira knew it was time for a "release."
Just as it was natural for a woman to deal with her monthly cycle, Kira saw nothing wrong with his own method of relief. Everyone has a hobby. It is human nature. It was for the sake of this hobby that he had become a sorcerer—the ultimate "hiding in plain sight."
I am a normal, healthy, functioning human being, Kira told himself. I will live a happy, fulfilling life.
A calm smile touched his lips, but it froze almost instantly.
Directly in front of him, at the exact spot where his next step was calculated to land, a traditional wooden clog—a geto—appeared. It was worn with a white tabi sock, dampened by the morning dew. The fabric clung to rounded toes, hinting at the soft skin beneath.
The distance of his next step was ruined.
Irritating. So irritating!
Kira suppressed the urge to simply stomp down. He looked up, meeting a pair of clear, intelligent eyes.
"My, Kira-kun. You've finally arrived," said a mature, soft voice.
Utahime Iori.
"Senior! Hello! M-m-my name is Miwa Kasumi!" A shy young girl peeked out from behind Utahime. Her long blue hair swayed in the breeze, and her azure eyes were wide—not calm like a lake, but surging like a stormy sea.
"I... I'm so happy to meet you!" she panted, her words tripping over each other. "I-I'm a huge fan!"
"Hello."
Kira nodded, extending his right hand with professional courtesy. Miwa grabbed it instantly, shaking it up and down with manic energy. "Hello! Hello!"
She held on for a long time before reluctantly letting go. She stared at her own hand, her mind screaming: Ahhh! Kira-senpai's smile is so healing! I'm melting! He held my right hand! I'm going to use this hand for everything tonight!
Kira also stared at Miwa's right hand. Slender fingers. Pale skin. Delicate blue veins visible beneath the surface.
I'm going to use it tonight, he thought.
By cutting it off.
As the thought crossed his mind, a low, raspy mechanical voice spoke up. It was Mechamaru.
"Kira-senpai. Principal Gakuganji has been waiting. He wishes to discuss the Special Grade Cursed Object—Sukuna's finger."
Kira checked his watch and nodded.
"Let's go then. I'll lead the way," Miwa offered eagerly.
"Wait. One more minute."
"Why?" Miwa blinked in confusion.
"It is currently 7:29 AM," Kira said, his face a mask of absolute discipline. "I don't start work for another minute."