Ten minutes had crawled by since Squad C's Jujutsu Sorcerers snapped into formation.
The black orb hanging over the ridgeline ruptured into glittering shards.
Zenin Naoya stepped out of the debris.
Waiting for him stood a broad-shouldered, bark-skinned humanoid Curse. Branches jutted where eyes should have been, one arm wrapped tight like a sling—its very presence felt alien.
It had slammed its Domain against Naoya's, canceled the space, and fled without a backward glance.
The choice had been simple: save Jogo, who was coughing up embers.
Naoya should have pursued, but he let the thing go. Hanami was a known variable, just not one he'd prepped for tonight.
'Heard about that look,' he thought, recalling Kandok's debrief. Special Grade Curse Hanami.
Two Special Grades, both with their Cursed Techniques burnt out. Even so, shoving deeper felt reckless. He didn't trust his life to clan reinforcements alone.
"Hey. Quit staring and call 119. Put the fire out."
"R-Right!"
The squad jolted back to reality. Some dialed 119, others rang the Assistant Director.
Naoya tipped his head back, drawing a measured breath. Charcoal dust and sparks stung his nostrils.
Hours after the first report, he called again and gave me the rundown: Jogo crippled, exorcism almost complete, Hanami crashing the party at the last second.
"I'm ashamed, boss. If their Techniques hadn't burned out I'd have finished it, but something felt off. Theirs were toast too, yet it reeked of danger."
"You did right. If Hanami pinned you while Jogo's Technique regenerated, we'd be in trouble. And if Hanami's came back on top of that—"
"Exactly why I withdrew."
"Glad you're safe. Good work."
A chill thrill zipped up my spine. Naoya overwhelming Jogo—now that was welcome news.
Gojo alone could solo four Special Grades, and Geto's still in play. From a power-chart view, losing would be absurd.
'Breathing room, at last.'
The Curses would grow wary, but tonight's conclusion paid dividends.
"Thanks for saying so. I'm heading home."
"Stay sharp till you're through the door."
"Sure thing. I'll keep the [Mystic Code] you handed me in a death-grip."
Naoya chuckled, genuine ease rather than bravado.
"Oh—while dousing the wildfire I found a hot spring. Residuals are thick; looks like the Curses were squatting there."
"A hot spring?"
"Yeah. Guess even Cursed Spirits appreciate a soak. Ridiculous, huh?"
Images of Jogo and Mahito chatting in steamy water flashed through my mind—Kenjaku had joined them in the original timeline.
"Creepy. Any lingering Technique traces?"
"No Domains fired inside, so nothing structured. But I memorized two residual signatures—don't worry."
"Can you log them?"
"I can describe the flavor—hard to archive sensory data."
"That alone helps. Thanks for the grind."
"My pleasure, boss."
I traded a few more lines with Naoya and hung up.
We'd missed the kill, but gained plenty—Jogo and Hanami's energy profiles and a clear ceiling on Naoya's power. If he could bully a Special Grade, I could stop worrying. All that remained was hunting them down.
The real worry was the civilians Kenjaku might have earmarked for Forced Spirit Incarnation. No clue how many cocoons he'd tampered with. We'd have to dig them up and free them, which meant capturing Mahito alive so Geto could use [Cursed Spirit Manipulation] to sever soul from vessel. Modern sorcerers would awaken or not on their own; only the possession-type targets mattered.
At least both the Zenin and Gojo clans were on board. Couldn't ask for sturdier allies.
Bzzzz. My phone rattled. Choso.
"Hello?"
"Mission's wrapped. Package delivered clean. Anything else you need?"
"Nothing. Head back."
"Understood. Call if you require me."
Short, clean, zero stress.
Kenjaku was dead, the Culling Game dissolved. Just a garden full of his seeds left to pluck. Two of the Big Three Clans were already searching.
'If only the brass would help…'
If the Jujutsu Headquarters joined in, we'd finish in days. But those fossils cared only for their own authority, some even cutting deals with Curses. Disgusting.
'Still, I can't strike first.'
I needed a bulletproof excuse: THEY ATTACKED ME. Without it, I'd look like a butcher.
Maybe I should poke them harder?
No reaction even after I stole the blueprints—no complaints through Gojo either. Still sizing me up? Or hiding because they knew Servants were out of their league?
They'd hibernated while Gojo lived, then rampaged the second he was sealed. Cowards.
'Annoying.'
Starting the fight myself felt wrong. So—wait forever? Or…
"If patience isn't your strong suit, just make them swing first."
Koyanskaya of Darkness—the Foreigner—slipped behind me, arms looping around my waist, soft breasts pressing into my back. Stress melted; my racing brain went blissfully blank.
How she always read my thoughts was a mystery that evaporated with the tension.
'Close call.' I nearly babbled like an infant. Not happening. Only Raikō and Ibuki actually enjoy that act.
"Got a method in mind?"
"Fast or slow? The enemy isn't lethal right now, so we can run both tracks at once."
"What if they hide behind national authority?"
"Even better. Public aggression simplifies things. Besides, if the jujutsu brass were truly that strong, they'd have moved already."
I nodded. "Fair."
"I refrained from acting without my Master's order. How about now?"
"Let's gather intel first."
"Child's play. One call to Gojo Satoru or Zenin Naobito and every file opens."
"Point taken."
I grabbed the phone and dialed. Waiting had worn out its welcome.
Rings clicked.
"What's this, you calling me first for a change?"
Zenin Naobito's voice slurred through, sake-warm.
Time to start with him.
"Surprised myself. You got a minute?"
"For you? Hic The clan head is relatively free."
Relatively? The man drank daily—probably very free.
"Good. I need a favor."
"Must be serious. Spit it out."
Liquid glugged near the speaker; my pulse ticked faster.
"I need dossiers on the higher-ups—names, ages, faces, addresses, the lot."
"The higher-ups' info?"
"Yes. If it's trouble, I understand."
He bit. "Khkh. Finally done dragging your feet, huh?"
Naobito chuckled like he'd been waiting for this.
"Dragging my feet?"
"You never planned to let those fossils live. Always meant to purge them."
"…Can't deny that."
I sighed. Killing humans isn't easy—except they stopped qualifying as human ages ago.
"No bugs on this line. Personal data's easy; I'll hand it over."
"You know that much?"
"I may look like this, but I'm still head of the Zenin Clan. I keep tabs."
Reliable man.
"I can e-mail it—easier to read."
"You use e-mail?"
"I'm downright modern. I watch Accel World and JoJo's Bizarre Adventure."
A shiver crawled up my spine. I hadn't kept up with anime lately—too many real incidents.
"That's… unexpected."
"Truly?"
"Truly. Please send the files."
"Sure. However you handle them, just don't kill me in the crossfire."
"Relax. We're friends—and you get along with Naoya."
"Good. I'm in the middle of a marathon, so I'm hanging up."
Naobito laughed and disconnected.
So the anime-fan rumor was real. Too much. My skull throbbed harder than when I first piggy-backed Kandok's body.
I rubbed the back of my head to soothe the shock.
Once the data lands, first thing—I'm summoning Shuten.