"Senpai, I think we lost it."
Click.
"Mm. Lost it."
"This is a Special Grade curse... If it shows up on campus, it'll be a disaster."
Click.
"Mm-hm. Disaster, disaster."
"This is urgent. I'm not joking around."
Click.
"Mm. I know. I'm very worried and anxious too."
"This is terrible."
"Then could you please put the nail clipper down!"
"Fushiguro."
Nanami Kira set down the nail clipper, tucked it back into his shirt pocket, and while he was at it, swept the trimmed clippings into the pocket as well. Only then did he look up and meet Megumi Fushiguro's eyes with a serious expression:
"I'm about to clock out... It's one minute to eight. If I leave late, there won't be any taxis."
"So?"
"So I'll leave it to you. Thanks a bunch."
"This is a Special Grade curse—hey, stop, don't leave. Don't leave."
"I'm giving you an opportunity here. A chance to develop as a sorcerer. Fushiguro, if you always rely on your seniors, you'll never stand on your own. I trust you—I believe in your skills and your character. That's why I'm entrusting this mission to you... My generation's getting old. The future belongs to you young people. All the glory and brilliance—it's all yours. Go get 'em, sorcerer!"
"Now it's time for us old-timers to exit the stage. Fushiguro, go embrace your future!"
...
Ten minutes later.
Megumi Fushiguro sat alone on the steps, his expression dark.
The cold wind cut through the summer night. He had just learned, firsthand, how treacherous the adult world could be.
That was workplace bullying just now, wasn't it? That was definitely workplace bullying!
Go get 'em my ass!
Fushiguro drove his fist into the hard ground.
By now dusk had fallen, night settling in. One by one, streetlamps flickered to life along the empty streets, and fireflies pulsed in the dim halos of light. The entire campus had emptied out—almost everyone had gone home.
He looked up at the vacant Stevenson screen and sighed.
According to the arrangement, Sukuna's Finger was supposed to be inside it, waiting for him and Kira to recover.
But when they'd arrived, it was empty.
Where did that huge finger go?
Fushiguro's expression grew even darker. He stood, dusted himself off, and walked deeper into the campus.
Keep looking, keep looking... I'll find it eventually. Nobody would want this thing.
I'll find it. It's not like someone's going to eat it. What's the worst that could happen?
Nanami Kira gazed out at the passing scenery. Tokyo's brilliant lights ignited one after another. It was midsummer night, and midsummer nights were supposed to blaze like this—a riot of color, an endless stream of traffic, all of life's energy and hope running wild in the heat.
He got out and paid the fare.
That stack of Bad Luck Money he'd freeloaded was finally spent. Kira was pleased.
By the time he got home, it was half past eight.
Shoes off, lined up neatly, through the entryway.
His house sat in the villa district of northeastern Tokyo.
Every inch of Tokyo was worth a fortune. Owning a villa here meant Nanami Kira was doing quite well for himself.
The courtyard was full of flowers. Moonlight rested on their petals; white stamens trembled faintly; weeds grew wild between them. Among the tangled roots, a few tiny ladybugs crept about, and crickets began to chirp.
Night deepened. All living things drifted into a midsummer dream.
Kira hung his jacket on the coat rack, heated a glass of milk, and switched on the radio.
He retrieved the Arrow from its sealed case and turned it over in his hands. He'd studied it before, but he couldn't determine what material it was made of.
Impossibly hard. Indestructible. According to the records, anyone struck by the Arrow died without exception. Over the past month, Kira had tested it on a few unlucky curse users he'd captured. None of them survived...
As far as he knew, he was the only exception—struck by it, completely unharmed, and gifted a powerful, bizarre shikigami in the bargain.
What would happen if he let it hit him a second time? The thought crossed his mind often, but he'd never tried. What if it went wrong?
Besides, deep down, he had a feeling—a strange, inexplicable intuition telling him: only when he was driven to absolute despair would the Arrow grant him power.
It would push him to death's door and force him back to life. But now was not the time.
Absolute despair, huh...
He lay back in the rattan chair in the courtyard, sipping his milk, counting the stars.
This was his home. Home always put him at ease. No apartment, however nice, could give him that feeling—which was why he hated business trips.
At home, feeling safe, how could he ever face the kind of despair the Arrow demanded? Impossible.
Then he noticed a small, strange flower growing in the center of the courtyard.
Its petals parted slightly, revealing a yellow stamen within. Just two tiny leaves, bathing in the moonlight, stretching in what looked like a lazy yawn.
He remembered now.
A few days ago, a cat had died on his doorstep.
Kira liked cats. Thinking it could at least nourish the flowers, he'd buried it in the courtyard as fertilizer.
Surely the dear little cat was smiling in kitty heaven.
And this flower had sprouted from the very soil where the cat was buried.
Thinking this, Kira stood, walked over, crouched down, and reached curiously toward the little flower—
Several bloody holes erupted across his body!
Through a spray of blood and torn flesh, Kira saw the flower—and between its petals, a pair of eyes slowly opened.
Cat-slit pupils.
The cat's vengeful spirit had possessed this plant, birthing a curse: Stray Cat!
So he'd finally figured out what kind of rotten luck the Bad Luck Money had dragged in.