"Senpai, I think we've lost it."
Snap.
"Yes. It's lost."
"This is a Special Grade Cursed Object... if it turns up in a school, it's going to be a catastrophe."
Snap.
"Mhm. A catastrophe. Truly terrible."
"This is an emergency. I'm not joking with you."
Snap.
"I know. I'm deeply concerned. My anxiety is peaking."
"Then could you please put down the nail clippers!"
"Fushiguro-kun."
Kira Nanami lowered the clippers and tucked them into his breast pocket, carefully ensuring the collected clippings were stowed away. Only then did he look up, meeting Megumi Fushiguro's eyes with a look of professional sincerity.
"I'm about to clock out. There is exactly one minute until 8:00 PM. If I leave any later, the taxis will be impossible to catch."
"And?"
"And so, I'm leaving this in your capable hands. Arigato."
"This is a Special Grade—hey! Stand still! Don't walk away!"
"I'm giving you an opportunity, Fushiguro-kun. A chance for a junior to grow. If you always rely on your seniors, you'll never be able to stand on your own. I trust your talent. I believe in your discipline. My generation is growing old; the future belongs to the youth. All the glory and the brilliance... it's yours for the taking. Fight on, Sorcerer!"
"It is time for us old-timers to exit the stage. Go, Fushiguro-kun! Embrace your future!"
...
Ten minutes later.
Megumi Fushiguro sat on the concrete steps, his face a mask of brooding darkness.
The summer night wind blew cold, chilling his spirit. He felt the full, crushing weight of the adult world's treachery.
Was that workplace bullying? That was definitely workplace bullying.
The hell with your 'glory'!
Fushiguro slammed a fist against the hard ground. Twilight had surrendered to the dark, and the streetlights were flickering to life across the campus, drawing swarms of fireflies into their yellow halos. The school was empty; everyone had long since gone home.
He looked once more at the empty thermometer box and sighed. According to the report, a finger of Sukuna was supposed to be hidden here, waiting for him and Kira to recover it.
But when they arrived, there was nothing.
Where did a finger that large even go?
Fushiguro's expression darkened further as he stood up, brushing the dust from his uniform. He began to walk deeper into the school grounds. He would keep looking. It had to be here. No one would just take a cursed object like that.
Kira Nanami watched the scenery through the taxi window as the lights of Tokyo ignited like a sea of fire. It was a midsummer night, vibrant and bustling—a time for life to grow unrestrained.
He paid the driver, feeling a surge of satisfaction as he finally used up the last of the "mouldy money" he had acquired back in Kyoto.
By the time he reached his home, it was 8:30 PM. He removed his shoes, aligning them with surgical precision before stepping into the foyer.
His home was located in the northeastern suburbs of Tokyo, an area of quiet villas. In a city where every inch of soil was worth its weight in gold, owning a detached house with a yard was a sign of Kira's considerable wealth.
In the courtyard, white flowers swayed under the moonlight while crickets chirped amidst the unkempt grass. The world was settling into its midsummer dream.
Kira hung his blazer on the rack, heated a glass of milk, and turned on the radio. He retrieved the Arrow from its case and began to turn it over in his hands. He had studied it extensively; its material was unknown, indestructible, and utterly lethal to those it found unworthy. Over the past month, he had tested it on several unfortunate Curse Users; none had survived the puncture.
He alone was the exception, having gained his "Shikigami" from its touch.
What would happen if I stabbed myself again? He often wondered, yet he never dared to try. He loathed errors, and a mistake with the Arrow could be fatal.
But a strange intuition—a primal instinct—told him that the Arrow would only grant him new power when he was driven into a corner of absolute despair. It was a tool for rebirth through death.
Absolute despair...
He leaned back in his wicker chair in the garden, sipping his milk and counting the stars. This was his home, the only place that brought him true peace. It was why he hated business trips; no luxury hotel could replicate this serenity.
In a home like this, what danger could possibly lead to despair? It was impossible.
Suddenly, he noticed a small, peculiar flower in the center of the yard. Its petals were slightly parted, revealing a yellow stamen, and it had only two small leaves that seemed to stretch under the moonlight.
He remembered now.
A few days ago, a stray cat had died outside his gate. Kira liked cats, and believing that a body should "turn to spring soil to nourish the blooms," he had buried the creature in his garden as fertilizer. He imagined the cat was happy in heaven, fulfilling its final purpose.
This little flower had sprouted from the very spot where the cat was buried.
Curious, Kira stood up and walked toward the plant. He knelt, reaching out a hand to touch the delicate petals—
BOOM!
Multiple bloody holes suddenly erupted across his body!
Amidst the spray of blood and shredded fabric, Kira looked at the plant. There, nestled between the petals, a pair of eyes had slowly opened.
Vertical, feline pupils.
The vengeful spirit of the cat had possessed the plant, birthing a new Curse.
Kira finally understood exactly what kind of "misfortune" that mouldy money had attracted back to him.