Noon passed quickly. Thanks to all the delays, Kira's afternoon nap had been cut short, which left him irritable.
He checked his watch—already 1:40. He dragged himself out of bed, washed up briefly, and headed downstairs.
Passing through the entryway, he set Stray Cat down by the front door.
The sun outside was vicious. Blazing light poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, scattering across the room and painting huge golden panels on the walls. Stray Cat basked in the warmth, stretched luxuriously, and perked right up.
"Guard duty's on you, Peashooter."
"Don't let any zombies in."
Stray Cat may or may not have understood. It purred deep in its throat, spread both leaves wide, craned its head upward, and stared at the door—which dwarfed it several times over—lost in thought.
Kira slipped on his freshly polished leather shoes, sat on the entryway ledge to straighten his tie, and hefted the briefcase, making sure the seals were tight enough that the Special Grade Cursed Tool inside wouldn't leak any aura. Not that there was much aura to begin with.
He opened the front door. Merciless sunlight flooded in. Kira squinted against the glare and stepped out.
"When you encounter a Curse, don't panic. First you ORA ORA, then you MUDA MUDA, and finally you strike a cool enough pose. That's how you beat it."
Instructor Nanami Kira shared his field-tested wisdom for defeating Curses with an utterly serious expression.
"But remember—the pose is sometimes more important than the ORA and MUDA combined. That's the key takeaway. Write it down."
"Ohhh!"
Yuji Itadori nodded earnestly, whipped out his notebook, and scribbled in dead seriousness:
First ORA ORA...
Halfway through, he scratched his head, glanced over at the aloof Megumi Fushiguro—who looked like the academic type—and leaned in to whisper:
"Hey, moshi moshi, Fushiguro—what comes after ORA ORA?"
Fushiguro ignored the commotion and asked coolly:
"When do we leave for field training?"
Kira gave him a flat look, thinking: I still haven't settled the score for you gossiping about me.
Who'd have guessed the kid with the permanent poker face was secretly such a gossip...
"We're waiting for the last student."
"Hey—what do you think of me, talent scout?"
A woman's voice suddenly rang out from a nearby street corner.
"Ah, excuse me miss, I'm in a hurry..."
"So am I!"
Her voice took on an impatient edge, punctuated by a sharp tch.
"So? What do you think?"
"Uh, no..."
"Hm?"
"I think you look great, really great, but I'm seriously running late..."
"Fine, go. At least you've got taste."
Her tone brightened noticeably.
Yuji clutched his little notebook, baffled, and whispered sideways to Fushiguro:
"Are we really gonna be teamed up with this person? That's kinda... awkward..."
You're not much better... Fushiguro watched Yuji enthusiastically practicing "cool" poses in the middle of the street, edged away in disgust, and let out a deep sigh.
"Boys—congratulations, the one girl has arrived."
The girl finally emerged from the crowd. She wore a deep black regulation-length skirt, her figure well-proportioned, her clean face free of any makeup. Her aura was less beautiful and more striking—the word that fit best was cool.
Like a rose in full bloom at the height of summer: thorns everywhere, yet the fragrance blazed through anyway. And that scent wasn't the faint, fleeting kind—no subtle plum or orchid drifting in the breeze. It was bold, fierce, unapologetically loud, as if announcing to the whole world:
This is who I am. Love it or hate it—this is who I am.
"So where are we headed? Oh, right—my name's Nobara Kugisaki."
She stretched and turned to Kira, who clearly looked like the teacher, with the easy familiarity of someone she'd known for years.
"It's where we're going. You're going to stand as punishment."
Kira's face didn't move.
"You were four minutes late."
Nobara's smile froze solid.
"Pfft."
That was Hoshino Ei, who'd already served the whole morning standing as punishment.
In the end, through sheer shamelessness, Nobara temporarily escaped her sentence.
The summer afternoon stretched on and on.
She swung her long legs listlessly, utterly bored.
"So where are we actually going?"
"Sightseeing."
As if a boulder had crashed into still water, the students erupted.
"Sightseeing?! ORA ORA ORA!!" That was Yuji.
"Sightseeing, sightseeing, sightseeing—Tokyo here I come! Shopping! Shopping! Shopping!" That was Nobara.
"Oh my, sightseeing?" That was Hoshino Ei, her voice pale as snow.
Fushiguro said nothing. He covered his face with his hand.
"TDL! I wanna go to TDL! Sensei, sensei!"
"Idiot, TDL's in Chiba. Let's go to Chinatown! Chinatown! Nana-min!"
"Isn't Chinatown in Yokohama?"
"Yokohama IS Tokyo! Look at a map!"
Clap, clap, clap.
Kira lightly clapped his hands, cutting off the pointless argument.
"We're going to Roppongi."
"Ohhh! Roppongi forever!!"
"Saikō!"
Three hours later.
"Sai... kō?"
Dim twilight settled over their heads like a yellowed filter draped across the city. The once-imperious sun had shrunk to a tiny ember, hiding behind the farthest ridge on the horizon.
By the time the train brought them to Roppongi, dusk was already closing in.
Cold wind slithered down every collar. The distant city lights felt impossibly far away. Daylight had retreated; evening was rising. The black shadow crept forward with the sinking sun, inch by inch swallowing the sky above their heads.
An occasional breeze whispered through nearly ten thousand headstones, which answered with a thin, keening wail—like ghosts weeping. Row after row of pale white markers and the faint smell of incense smoke made one thing abundantly clear:
They had successfully arrived at a cemetery in Tokyo's Roppongi district.
A graveyard.
"Um, um, Nanamin—how do you do sightseeing at a graveyard... dance on the tombstones?"