Days felt as though someone had pressed a fast-forward button, fashing by in a blur.
The ginkgo leaves on the Jujutsu High campus had turned completely yellow, falling in rustling waves whenever the wind blew.
Kama lived her life as a shut-in.
Whether it was for the sake of this world's humanity or her own performance metrics, she avoided contact with people as much as possible.
Otherwise, she feared she wouldn't be able to resist showing them a bit of her "favor."
That would be bad; she'd likely be kicked out of the world on the spot and reported, wouldn't she? Heh...
However, Gojo Satoru, Kugisaki Nobara, and the others still harassed her every few days, using all sorts of bizarre reasons to try and dig her out of her room.
The success rate was roughly 0.5%.
This afternoon, Kama was leaning back into a beanbag chair by the window of her dorm, flipping through a copy of Textual Research on Indian Mythology she had "borrowed."
The pages were yellowed and the text was dense enough to make one's head spin.
She flipped to a certain page, her fingertip stopping on the entry for "Kama."
"Love... Hah."
A curve devoid of warmth pulled at the corners of her lips.
Just as she was about to close the book, her movements suddenly halted.
She looked up, her rose-colored eyes narrowing slightly as she cast her gaze toward a certain direction outside the window.
The aura of the Black Holy Grail.
Though it was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, it definitely existed.
Right within Tokyo, not too far away.
Kama shut the book, tossed it aside, and stood up from the beanbag.
She walked to the window and pushed it open.
That aura remained—intermittent, yet moving.
"Finally..."
She spoke softly, her voice unreadable.
"You can't hide anymore."
Something was settling within those narrowed rose-colored eyes.
Cold, sharp, and carrying the excitement of a predator locking onto its prey.
Without hesitation, she vaulted out of the window.
Her short silver hair whipped in the wind, but the sound of her landing never came.
At the same time, in the faculty office.
Gojo Satoru was sitting in a swivel chair with his legs crossed, holding a donut and taking lazy bites out of it.
His phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen; it was an encrypted message.
The content was only a single line:
[Hokkaido. Special Grade Cursed Spirit. Come quickly.]
Gojo's chewing paused for a second.
Then he "tched," stuffed the remaining half of the donut into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a hamster's.
"Those Rotten Oranges..."
He mumbled indistinctly, his fingers flying across the screen.
[Got it. Be there soon.]
Sent.
He stood up and stretched, his bones letting out a series of cracks.
"Honestly... picking a time like this..."
He walked to the window, his gaze sweeping over the campus.
The Training Ground was empty, save for a few withered leaves swirling in the wind.
In the distance, on the rooftop of the school building, there seemed to be a small silver speck.
Gojo stared in that direction for two seconds, the brow beneath his Black Blindfold furrowing almost imperceptibly.
But it smoothed out quickly.
He turned and pulled open the office door.
"Principal Yaga—!"
His voice trailed out long, echoing through the corridor.
"I'm going on a business trip—! Be back soon—!"
Without waiting for a response, his form blurred, vanishing at the end of the hallway.
In the Principal's Office, Masamichi Yaga was sewing a new Cursed Corpse.
The needle and thread moved nimbly between his thick fingers as the fabric was pulled tight and stuffing was tucked in bit by bit.
Hearing Gojo Satoru's shout, the needle in his hand paused.
Then he continued sewing.
Halfway through, the internal line on his desk rang.
Masamichi Yaga set down his work and picked up the phone.
"Hello, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College."
A flat voice came from the other end of the line.
"Principal Yaga."
Yaga's expression darkened.
"Yes."
"A Cursed Womb has appeared at the Tokyo Juvenile Detention Center. It requires immediate attention."
"Personnel from the Higher-ups have confirmed it. The Cursed Womb is estimated to be Grade 1, but there are uncertainties."
Yaga's expression grew progressively solemn, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
"...Is it confirmed?"
"Yes. The Higher-ups' personnel have confirmed it repeatedly. The fluctuations of the Cursed Womb are strengthening; it is expected to hatch by tonight at the latest."
Yaga fell silent for a few seconds.
The Juvenile Detention Center.
The people detained there were all troubled youths with criminal records. The residual Cursed Energy there was much thicker than in ordinary places, making it indeed a prime breeding ground for Cursed Spirits. But...
"Why are you only reporting this now?"
"Because the fluctuations were very faint before. The Higher-ups' people misjudged it, so..."
Another misjudgment.
Yaga closed his eyes, a vein throbbing at his temple.
He had grown tired of hearing this excuse over the past two months.
Starting from Aoki Second Psychiatric Hospital, the failure rate of the Higher-ups had spiked suspiciously.
Once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, but three or four times...
He opened his eyes, his gaze cold and stern.
"I understand. I will immediately arrange..."
Before he could finish, the other side continued:
"The Authorities have specifically requested Itadori Yuji for this mission."
Masamichi Yaga's fingers tightened around the receiver, his knuckles turning white.
"Sending Itadori alone?"
"That is the will of the Higher-ups."
"I see."
The call ended.
Masamichi Yaga set down the receiver and sat in his chair, remaining silent for a long time.
Outside, the sky was growing dark, and the clouds hung low as if it were about to rain.
Finally, he sighed, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.
Sitting in his office chair, he rested his chin on his interlaced hands, staring at the proposal on his desk for a long time.
"Mission confirmed. Dispatching first-year students Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi, and Kugisaki Nobara to handle it."
The voice on the other end seemed to say something.
Yaga's tone remained flat:
"This is a rational judgment based on mission difficulty and personnel allocation."
"If the Higher-ups have an objection, they can come find me directly."
With that, he hung up the phone.
The office fell back into silence.
Yaga stood up, walked to the window, and sighed.
"Are the Higher-ups really that impatient..."