Yuji Itadori watered the flowers, the midsummer sun making the white petals shimmer. Water trickled down the stems, reflecting the light until it looked like warm, liquid gold flowing toward the earth. Summer was in full bloom, but inside the room, someone had already reached the late autumn of their life.
"Idiot, why did you buy so many flowers?"
"Same as always. Besides, these aren't for you, they're for the nurses," Yuji countered without looking up.
"The club! Why aren't you at your club activities?"
"The club ends at five. I've got nothing better to do anyway," Yuji replied nonchalantly, tucking the watering can back into a drawer.
"Fine then." The old man rolled onto his side, resting his face on his hand as the sunlight brought a fleeting, long-forgotten warmth to his frame. "Listen to this old man nag for a bit."
"Not interested, Gramps. Just focus on getting better," Yuji said, waving him off as he sat by the bed.
"About your parents..."
"I told you, I'm not interested. Please don't try to act cool right before you die, okay?" Yuji gave a helpless shrug.
"A man should die looking sharp! Don't you get it, you brat?"
Yuji pressed his lips together and stood, walking back to the window. "Don't be so cranky. Just keep it simple." He stared at the landscape outside in a long, heavy silence.
"Tch. This 'easy-going' generation is hopeless." The old man turned his back to the boy.
They fell silent, the room growing still for a long time. From outside, the sounds of children laughing and the persistent drone of cicadas drifted in—a noisy but vibrant reminder of the thick summer life.
"Yuji," the old man finally broke the silence.
"Yeah?"
"You're strong. You need to save people. Only as many as you can reach—it's okay to be lost, and don't worry if they aren't grateful." The old man paused, something catching in his throat. "Just try to save as many as you can. You must die surrounded by a crowd."
"Don't end up like me..."
His last words were so faint they barely stirred the air. A breeze drifted through the window, scattering a few summer petals. Yuji leaned against the table, his head slightly tilted back, his face wet with tears.
By the time the paperwork was finished, night had fallen. The twilight sun had sunk behind the mountains, and the fiery clouds had been replaced by a lonely, darkening violet. As Yuji stepped out of the ward, he saw a blonde man leaning against the wall. Sensing Yuji's presence, the man straightened up and spoke calmly.
"Hello."
"Hello," Yuji replied, scratching his head. "Who are you?"
"My name is Kira Nanami. I am thirty-three years old. I live in... people say I'm quite normal." After reciting his introduction like a practiced menu, Kira nodded toward him. "Yuji Itadori, I assume? My condolences."
"I'm not exactly 'sad' yet. It just feels... lonely," Yuji admitted.
"Did your grandfather say anything at the end?"
"Yeah. He wants me to die surrounded by people. Real 'main character' energy stuff," Yuji joked, but his eyes were serious and bright. "It's embarrassing, but I promised. And a promise is a promise."
A crowd? Does he mean a mob? A stampede? Or an execution? Kira couldn't quite envision such a death, but he respected those who adhered to a plan.
"If that is the agreement, then see to it. Die surrounded by your crowd," Kira said earnestly.
"Did you need something?" Yuji asked.
"Ah." Kira checked his watch and scratched his head awkwardly. "It's already 7:40. I didn't want to intrude earlier, but it's gotten late." He waved to a teenager in the distance. "Fushiguro-kun! He's all yours. I'm clocking out!"
"Kira! Wait! Don't you dare walk away—you bastard!" Fushiguro's roar echoed through the silent hospital.
"So, you're saying the curse is real?" "Where's the finger now?" "The school? With your seniors?" "Stay right there!"
Fushiguro vanished, cursed energy surging as a massive silver-white wolf erupted from his shadow and carried him away at a breakneck speed. He pushed through the wind, desperate to make it in time. If the seal on Sukuna's finger had truly been broken, it would draw curses like a corpse draws flies—a frenzy of monsters tearing through everything in their path.
The Divine Dog bounded across streets and rooftops, a blur of silver moonlight. It cleared the school gates and leaped toward the third floor, following the thickest scent of malice. Fushiguro burst through the window, ready for a fight, only to find... nothing.
The air was heavy with the residue of curses, but the spirits themselves were gone—thoroughly erased.
"You're slow," a voice came from behind him.
Kira Nanami stepped out of the shadows. His pink Shikigami held a writhing, maggot-like curse by the throat; with a light squeeze, the creature was consumed by flame and reduced to ash. A terrified, heavy-set student cowered behind him.
"I still had a few minutes before my shift officially ended. Leaving early isn't my style," Kira explained, checking his watch. "But it is exactly eight o'clock now, Fushiguro."
Kira looked at him with a flat, peaceful expression. "You can handle the rest, right?"
Fushiguro stared at him. Is he actually training me? Giving me the chance to prove myself? He realized that a sorcerer of Kira's caliber could have finished this in seconds, yet the man insisted on leaving because of the "clock".
Recalling how Kira had turned down the promotion to Special Grade, Fushiguro felt a surge of conviction. Kira Nanami... perhaps he is truly a man who fights purely for the sake of the mission, asking for nothing in return.
"I've got it," Fushiguro nodded firmly.
"Good. I'm going home. If I'm any later, my girlfriend will start to grow mold," Kira replied as he walked away.