The night wind carried the damp chill unique to the outskirts, sweeping through the weed-choked grounds of an abandoned factory district.
The rusted wire fence groaned as it swayed in the dark.
In front of the massive concrete entrance leading down into the underground water storage facility, Gojo Satoru casually tossed over a long black wooden case.
The case spun once in midair before Kaede caught it steadily.
"Open it. It's your 'welcome-to-the-job' gift. I went through some special black-market channels to get it for you."
Gojo stood with both hands in his pockets, his black blindfold especially stark in the night.
A light smile rested on his lips. He lifted his chin slightly, motioning for Kaede to inspect what was inside.
The wooden case clicked softly as the latch opened.
Resting quietly against a dark red velvet lining was a Japanese blade with a graceful curve.
The sword was long and slender, its temper line forming a distinctive crescent pattern. Under the weak moonlight, the blade gave off a cold, water-like sheen.
Kaede gripped the hilt and drew it smoothly from the box.
The sound of steel leaving the sheath was crisp and drawn-out. Holding the sword in one hand, he turned his wrist slightly, sending the long blade through the air in a silver arc. Its balance was excellent, as if it had always been meant to extend from his body.
His dark red eyes lowered, tracing the pattern along the blade.
"This sword is a replica of the famous Mikazuki Munechika. But after being specially soaked and modified with cursed energy by Jujutsu High's craftsmen, it's become quite the troublesome cursed tool."
Gojo raised one finger, his tone carrying a hint of obvious mischief.
"Anywhere this blade cuts, it leaves a crescent-shaped wound. If ignored, that wound will spread and corrode the flesh around it like something alive.
To stop that spread, the person hit has to keep flushing the wound with positive energy from reverse cursed technique, or with high-density pure cursed energy."
Gojo took half a step forward and leaned in a little.
"In other words, as long as you land one cut, the enemy has to split off a serious amount of focus to 'stop the bleeding.' For a war of attrition, it's a perfect little bloodletting tool."
"Thank you, sensei..."
Kaede flicked his wrist, spinning the blade cleanly before angling Mikazuki Munechika toward the ground.
The cold edge reflected his calm profile. He lowered his center of gravity slightly, shifting his feet into a stance ready to burst forward at any moment.
Seeing Kaede slip into combat readiness, Gojo straightened and stepped back twice. Then he raised his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together.
"Born from darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
With the chant spoken almost carelessly, a black translucent veil descended from the sky like an overturned dome, rapidly spreading down to cover the abandoned water facility and the surrounding wasteland completely.
The chirping of insects outside vanished instantly.
Only dead silence remained.
"The concentration of cursed residue inside is around semi-Grade 1. According to the report, it's a curse that lives at the bottom of the water storage basin and specializes in stealth and ambush.
So, the assessment officially begins. No support. Just you and the little thing inside. Good luck."
Gojo waved, then disappeared into the darkness at the edge of the veil without the slightest reluctance.
"I understand..."
Kaede carried the long sword and stepped alone onto the stairs leading downward.
The interior of the underground facility was filled with moldy damp air and a thick, rotten stench.
Standing water rose above his ankles. Each step sent out a faint splash.
Kaede kept an even pace, the arm holding the sword hanging naturally at his side. He looked unguarded, but those dark red eyes caught every strange shift in the flow of air through the darkness.
Drip.
A droplet fell from the peeling vaulted ceiling.
The instant it struck the water's surface—
Shrrrk!
From the shadow of a load-bearing pillar to his left, a huge, twisted black shape erupted without warning.
It was a malformed curse covered in hard scales, with limbs as thick and powerful as a frog's.
It opened an enormous mouth packed with crossing fangs and swung a forelimb tipped with sharp webbed claws. Using the darkness as cover, it lunged for Kaede's throat with terrifying speed that defied its massive body.
Kaede's toes shattered the reflection on the water's surface.
Instead of retreating, he advanced.
His body dipped low to the right with astonishing flexibility. The sharp webbed claws skimmed past his hair, dragging a foul wind in their wake.
At the same time, Mikazuki's blade cut upward, carving a perfect silver-white crescent through the air.
Shhk!
The blade split through the hard scales of the curse's abdomen without resistance, drawing out a long spray of black, filthy blood.
Having landed the hit, Kaede did not pause for even an instant.
Using the momentum of the slash, he twisted through his waist and slid several yards away like a fish moving through water, opening a safe distance once more.
The long sword pointed diagonally toward the ground, black blood sliding rapidly along the groove of the blade.
"ROOOAR!"
The aquatic curse crashed heavily into the standing water and let out a pained, furious scream.
It turned quickly, ready to charge again, only to freeze mid-motion.
It lowered its head toward its abdomen.
The cut itself had not been especially deep, but its edges had taken on an eerie crescent shape.
With an acidic hiss, the flesh around the wound began rotting and peeling outward at a visible pace.
A flash of almost human fear crossed the curse's cloudy yellow compound eyes.
By instinct, it understood that if it let the wound keep spreading, its torso would soon be hollowed out completely.
It stopped roaring blindly. A low gurgle rose from its throat.
A large amount of black cursed energy began gathering wildly around the wound in its abdomen, clashing fiercely against the strange force trying to tear its body apart.
As it forcibly suppressed the worsening wound, the curse changed its posture.
It no longer pounced upright like a beast. Instead, it dropped onto all fours, pressing its huge body close to the water's surface.
Those compound eyes fixed hard on the black-haired boy holding the sword not far away. There was no longer only hunger in its gaze. Now there was caution, and calculation.
It was analyzing the situation.
The weapon in its prey's hand carried an extremely dangerous lingering destructive effect, and it now had to divert a large amount of cursed energy just to keep its body from collapsing.
A direct fight would put it at a disadvantage.
It had to use the terrain and the standing water here to wear him down.
Inside the underground storage facility, only the slow echo of falling droplets struck the silence between boy and curse.