Nanami Kira bandaged his injured hand with grim focus, winding layer after layer of gauze. He'd already suppressed the wound with Reverse Cursed Technique.
He shot another glance at the little flower in the corner: its bud drooped against the soil, two oversized leaves folded over its head, cat-slit eyes half-shut, purring softly.
The courtyard was a wreck—evidence of a fierce battle.
Stray Cat was a handful. It could fire invisible air bullets, virtually impossible to dodge.
But it seemed to go dormant in darkness. Kira exploited that weakness and subdued it with ease.
It could damage Killer Queen, though... That piqued his interest. Instead of uprooting it, he moved it to the attic.
It would come in handy someday.
A glance at his watch—already late. Kira tidied the courtyard and headed upstairs.
His fingernails had been growing faster again lately. Nothing to be done about it—after all, Kaede's love for him had started to sour.
Just about time to break things off.
The next morning.
Megumi Fushiguro stood at Kira's front door, dark circles under his eyes, and knocked.
"Open up."
A long pause.
The door finally opened. Kira regarded him calmly.
"What is it, Fushiguro?"
Fushiguro's expression was dark, his voice a low, ominous monotone:
"Time for work."
"Hold on. I'm in the middle of a fight with my girlfriend. I think her feelings for me have soured..."
"Kira-senpai!"
Fushiguro's mouth twitched. Even his usual cool facade cracked. He spoke through gritted teeth:
"Since when do you have a girlfriend?"
"That's a bit rude. I'm very popular with women, you know."
"...Put the girlfriend thing aside. It's time for work."
Kira studied Fushiguro's face, then checked his watch. Seven-fifty.
Almost time to clock in. He muttered under his breath that being a jujutsu sorcerer was bullshit, then told Fushiguro:
"Hold on. I need to feed my cat first."
Before Fushiguro could react, Kira shut the door in his face.
He thought for a moment, downed the coffee on the table, then addressed something sitting across from him:
"Think carefully about what you did wrong."
He pulled on a pale-blue jacket, took his time knotting his tie and adjusting it to a comfortable position, then rummaged through a drawer for a bag of cat food.
Then he hesitated.
Stray Cat—was it a cat, or a plant? If it was a cat, cat food was fine. But if it was a plant, cat food wouldn't do.
He made up his mind quickly, pulling a golden-yellow bag of fertilizer from another drawer.
The label read: Jinkela.
He poured cat food and Jinkela into a jar, added boiling water, and stirred. Steam rose as the heat softened and dissolved both into a thick yellow paste.
Kira examined his creation and nodded with satisfaction.
Huh. Turns out I'm a pretty good cook... He carried the jar up to the attic. There were no lights up here; the single skylight had been sealed shut. Pitch-black—you couldn't see a hand in front of your face.
Kira navigated the darkness and found Stray Cat in its corner, dozing peacefully, its two tiny leaves folded together like a well-behaved kitten.
Kira poured the yellow paste over Stray Cat's head, drenching it from top to bottom.
Done.
He looked at Stray Cat's sleeping form and allowed himself a quiet smile.
The tedious workday arrived.
It was summer, school still in session, the blazing sun roasting the earth. Cicadas droned their monotonous song. The rubber track had gone soft in the heat, mirage-shimmer rising from the ground.
The air looked hazy—the heat made it shimmer, warping everything. Through the rippling haze, young men and women played in the sunlight. Girls wore their summer sailor uniforms, and all those long, bare, pale legs were enough to dazzle you.
Ah, youth... Kira stared at the girls' smooth, young, vibrant fingers—and once again silently cursed that aging hand waiting for him back home.
"You're saying Sukuna's Finger might be here?"
He turned to Fushiguro.
"Yes. The Divine Dogs and I searched the entire perimeter. No trace of the finger's cursed energy signature."
Finding a finger... I hate looking for a man's finger.
For Kira, searching for a woman's fingers was essentially courtship—a romantic pursuit. Searching through crowds, chasing love across the bustling world, seeking the one who'd walk beside you for life... well, for a few weeks. That was romance.
But searching for a man's finger? Courting a man?
The thought was physiologically repulsive.
Fushiguro, of course, had no idea Kira's mind had wandered to romance. He noticed Kira's pensive look—that serious expression tinged with melancholy and a hint of disgust.
He understood. This had to be an instinctive revulsion toward curses. Kira must be a man who despised evil to his core.
Nanami Kira was a dependable adult. Fushiguro had heard about his exploits saving Kyoto. So this was the man finally getting serious.
Called "the Curse Incarnate," huh... Let me see what you've got.
"I—"
Fushiguro was about to speak when a red-haired boy brushed past him.
Deep in his soul, something shuddered—along with a revulsion that went straight to the bone.
This is... He spun around, trying to call out to the boy.
But the boy was already gone, moving at blinding speed, kicking up gusts of wind, vanishing from sight in an instant. Only a thick cloud of dust remained.
"That was..." Fushiguro turned to Kira and found him nodding.
"Yeah. That was the ugly bastard's presence."