Chapter 121: The Tachi Shatters Again
"Gojo Satoru! Shut the hell up!"
Utahime Iori's roar nearly tore off what remained of the mansion's roof.
Inside the ruined hall, she pointed at the annoyingly smug face peering through the hole in the ceiling. Her hand trembled with fury, nearly crushing the talisman between her fingers.
"I wasn't crying! Who asked you to save me? Do you think you're some kind of superhero?"
She jabbed a finger at him, her voice rising higher.
"And do you even understand the concept of respecting your seniors? I'm your senior. Senior!"
Gojo crouched on the edge of the hole, picked at his ear with his little finger, and blew on it.
"Senior?"
He tilted his head.
"You mean a senior who got trapped for two days by a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit and almost became fertilizer for a haunted mansion?"
His grin widened.
"Honestly, Utahime, you should consider acting in horror movies. That despairing look earlier was pretty convincing. You might even win an award."
"You!"
Utahime looked ready to throw the talisman like a throwing knife and take him down with her.
Unfortunately, while the two of them were bickering, the Grade 1 Cursed Spirit whose barrier core had been damaged by Gojo's Blue completely lost control.
A wet, grinding sound rolled up from deep within the ruins.
The floor split open.
Rotten flesh, broken bones, fragments of wood, and chunks of the mansion itself fused together into a massive stitched monstrosity. Its body was the size of a small hill, covered with countless eyes of different sizes. Every one of them shone with malice.
A roar shook the hall.
Then hundreds of dark red tentacles shot out.
They were sharp as blades, tearing through the air with a shrill whistle as they lunged straight toward Utahime, who was closest and almost completely exposed.
The attack came too fast.
"Crap!"
Gojo's pupils tightened behind his slipping sunglasses.
After pulling an all-nighter, even his nerves were a fraction slower than usual. He tried to move, but his body lagged half a beat behind his thoughts.
Suguru had already jumped down through the hole, but he was still midair. His summoning gesture was only half complete. There was no time to call out a defensive Cursed Spirit.
Mei Mei reacted the fastest.
Her battle-axe flashed, cutting apart several tentacles near her, but Utahime was a few meters too far away.
I'm going to die.
Utahime stared at the foul, blade-like tentacles rushing toward her face.
Her mind went blank.
She could see the cold barbs at their tips. She could smell the stench of rot. She could feel death close enough to touch.
All she could do was close her eyes.
The pain never came.
Instead, a scorching current of air swept past her, scattering the cold Cursed Energy around her like mist before sunlight.
Clang!
A clear metallic ring echoed through the hall.
Utahime opened her eyes.
A tall figure stood in front of her.
Black hair. Straight back. Calm posture.
Yami.
He held the standard-issue tachi provided by Jujutsu High. His left thumb rested against the guard, pushing the blade slightly out of its sheath.
The sword had not fully left the scabbard, but heat was already leaking from the narrow gap, distorting the air around him.
"Total Concentration: Constant."
Yami drew in a slow breath.
With that breath, the temperature in his lungs climbed sharply. His heartbeat deepened. Blood surged through his veins, carrying power into every muscle and tendon.
The ordinary steel tachi trembled in his hand, humming as though it had been forced awake.
"Sun Breathing, First Form."
He drew.
The motion was too fast to follow.
"Circle Dance."
A perfect arc of flame burst outward from Yami's position.
It was not ordinary fire. It carried a blazing, purifying heat that made the mansion's Cursed Energy recoil on instinct.
The tentacles were cut apart the moment they touched the arc.
Their tough flesh offered no resistance. The severed ends did not even have time to spray blood before the heat carbonized them into black smoke.
But the strike was only the beginning.
Yami's figure blurred.
He crossed the hall in a streak of red heat and appeared above the massive stitched curse. Suspended in the air, he gripped the tachi with both hands and raised it overhead.
Then he brought it down.
Boom!
A pillar of flame split the hall.
The Grade 1 Cursed Spirit that had trapped Utahime and Mei Mei for two days did not even manage a final scream.
Its massive body was cleaved in two.
The burning cut spread through its flesh, devouring its remaining Cursed Energy. The rotten pieces of its body crumbled and dissolved into ash before they could hit the floor.
One strike.
Complete exorcism.
Silence fell over the hall.
Only the crackle of golden flames remained, dancing across the ruined floor.
Utahime stared at Yami's back as he slowly lowered the sword.
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
He stood amid the fading flames, calm and unshaken, as if cutting down a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit had been no more difficult than clearing dust from his sleeve.
Her cheeks warmed before she could stop them.
So cool.
This was what a real rescue looked like.
Compared to the white-haired bastard on the ceiling who opened his mouth only to mock people, the difference was heaven and earth.
Just as the atmosphere reached a strangely romantic silence, and Utahime was about to force out a proper thank-you, a familiar calm voice cut in from the edge of the hall.
"Utahime-senpai, are you okay?"
Shoko Ieiri stepped through the dust with an unlit cigarette between her lips. Her expression was as flat as usual, but there was genuine concern in her eyes.
"I was worried after we lost contact with you for two days."
The moment Utahime saw her, the tension that had kept her standing finally snapped.
"Shoko!"
Her eyes reddened. She rushed forward and hugged Shoko tightly, like a child who had finally found someone normal after surviving a disaster.
"Shoko, promise me you'll never become like those two!"
Shoko let herself be hugged and patted Utahime lightly on the back.
"Don't worry," she said. "I won't turn into scum like them."
That answer soothed Utahime far more than any formal comfort could have.
Then Gojo's voice drifted down from above again.
"Careful, Utahime. The floor under you looks like it's about to collapse."
"Shut up!"
Utahime's brief emotional moment vanished instantly. She whipped around and glared up at Gojo like an enraged cat.
Shoko watched the exchange with a faint smile.
Everything seemed fine now.
Crack.
A small sound broke through the relaxed air.
Yami had just slid the standard-issue tachi fully back into its scabbard.
The blade finally gave out.
Unable to withstand the heat of Sun Breathing and the force of the previous strike, the sword shattered into countless iron fragments. They spilled across the floor with a crisp metallic scatter, leaving only the hilt in Yami's hand.
He looked at the remains of the weapon and sighed.
"As expected. Ordinary steel can't handle that level of resonance and heat."
He really needed to find a weapon suited to him.
Otherwise, at this rate, he would spend more time breaking swords than using them.
"My, my."
Mei Mei's voice drifted over from the side.
She approached with her usual elegant smile, glanced at the fragments on the floor, then looked at Yami.
"That was an exquisite strike, Instructor Yami."
Her smile became professional.
"However, that standard-issue tachi was Jujutsu High property. Its replacement cost is three hundred thousand yen."
Yami looked at her.
Mei Mei's tone remained pleasant.
"For damaging public equipment, the full amount will be deducted from your salary this month."
Yami's expression froze.
At the same time, Gojo and Suguru finally recovered from their sleep-deprived daze.
Gojo looked at the ash where the Cursed Spirit had been, then at the broken hilt in Yami's hand.
"Hey! It's already over?"
He jumped down from the ceiling with obvious dissatisfaction.
"Yami, you bastard! You stole the kill! You said this was supposed to be our practical training. Do you know how badly you're making us lose face?"
Suguru landed beside him, covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh.
"Instructor Yami, you broke the weapon. Yaga-sensei is definitely going to scold you."
His smile deepened.
"He hates writing weapon loss reports."
Yami looked at the two problem children who clearly enjoyed watching trouble unfold, then at Mei Mei, who had already calculated the cost, and finally at Utahime, whose cheeks were still faintly red.
For the first time since taking the job, he felt a serious doubt.
Being an external combat instructor might be far more troublesome than he had imagined.
.....
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