Chapter 73: Brief Calm
The baseball Yami had sent flying never came back.
By the time it vanished into the far edge of the horizon, it was little more than a dot swallowed by the evening sky. No one even bothered pretending it might be found.
And with that, the Event came to an end.
An exchange event that should have been full of tension, rivalry, and open hostility between the two schools had instead concluded with Tokyo Jujutsu High standing alone at the top. They had taken the first day. They had taken the second. Even the ridiculous baseball game Gojo had forced into existence had somehow turned into another stage for Yami to crush Kyoto's remaining confidence.
Kyoto Jujutsu High had lost thoroughly.
Strangely enough, though, this time there was much less bitterness than usual.
Because once the gap between people grew too wide, jealousy started to feel pointless.
When the thing standing in front of you was not a rival but a mountain, all that remained was silence.
The sun was sinking.
Golden red light spilled across the training grounds, painting the school in a warm, fading glow. The field that had been filled with shouting only a short while ago was settling into evening quiet. Kyoto's students had begun gathering their things, preparing to leave.
The noise of footsteps, bags being lifted, and casual conversation drifted through the air.
It felt peaceful.
Almost ordinary.
Yami turned to head back with the others.
Then he heard a voice behind him.
"Um..."
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
Kasumi Miwa stood a few steps away, clutching her sword with both hands. Her face was red from the bridge of her nose to the tips of her ears, and though she was clearly trying to keep herself composed, the effort was not going especially well. Her bangs stirred lightly in the evening breeze, and her eyes kept darting away before sneaking back toward him.
Yami blinked once.
"What is it?"
His voice was quiet, gentle without effort.
On the battlefield, he was the kind of person who could make cursed spirits recoil. Outside of battle, though, there was still something deeply calm about him. The temperament of Tsugikuni Yoriichi lingered in those small moments, in the softness of his tone, in the way he never seemed to press his presence onto others.
Miwa swallowed.
Then she bowed so fast it nearly looked like she was about to throw herself to the ground.
"Could you please give me your autograph?!"
She thrust the sword out toward him with both hands like she was making some sacred offering.
Her face somehow turned even redder.
"I know this is sudden, and kind of weird, and probably really rude, but I really, really admire you!"
The words started rushing out the moment she began.
"That swordsmanship, and the way you stand, and the way you move, it's like... it's like a legendary swordsman walked right out of a manga!"
The more she said, the faster she talked, and the more flustered she became. By the end, even a few nearby students had started glancing over.
Yami was slightly caught off guard.
An autograph.
Of all things, he had not expected that.
He looked at the girl in front of him, awkward and sincere in a way that could not be faked, and something warm stirred at the corner of his expression.
In a world filled with curses, schemes, and sudden death, that kind of straightforward admiration felt almost precious.
"Sure," he said.
Miwa's eyes widened.
"R really?!"
Yami took the sword from her carefully.
It was a standard katana used in the New Shadow Style. Well maintained, too. He could tell she took care of it.
He considered it for a moment.
Using a pen would have been the obvious choice, but instead, he lifted one finger and lightly traced it across the scabbard. His fingertip never quite touched the surface.
A faint warmth passed through the lacquer.
Sun Breathing.
He left behind only the smallest fragment of it, a trace so weak it could not harm anything, yet enough to linger like a sliver of heat. It would not save her in a serious fight. But if fear ever crept too close, if cold pressure ever tried to swallow her whole, that warmth might steady her for an instant.
A tiny safeguard.
Then he handed the sword back.
"There."
Miwa took it as carefully as if it were made of glass.
On the scabbard, two clean, elegant characters had been etched into the surface.
Yami.
A faint reddish gold glow clung to the writing for a moment before settling down, as though the letters themselves still held a trace of warmth.
Miwa stared.
Then her whole face lit up.
"Thank you!"
She hugged the sword to her chest like she had just been handed the most valuable treasure in the world.
"I'm never washing my hands again... no, wait, that's disgusting, but you know what I mean!"
Yami almost laughed.
Before he could say anything else, another voice cut in from the side.
"What an idiot."
Mai walked over with her arms folded, expression sour in the familiar way she wore whenever she did not want people noticing what she actually felt. She threw one glance at Miwa, who was practically vibrating with happiness, then sighed like she was ashamed to be associated with her.
After that, her gaze shifted to Yami.
Her eyes were more complicated than her tone.
There was frustration there. Pride. Something bruised and stubborn. But underneath all of it was a recognition she clearly did not want to name.
No one understood better than Mai what it meant to be weak in the Jujutsu world.
What it meant to be looked down on.
What it meant to have your worth decided for you before you even got the chance to speak.
And Yami, standing in front of her now, had done something she had likely never imagined possible.
He had taken everything people said about those without cursed energy and cut straight through it.
Not with words.
With undeniable force.
"Hey," Mai said, looking away before their eyes could meet for too long. "I lost this time. Fine."
Her voice was flat, but not as sharp as usual.
"But next time, I won't lose that badly."
It was about as close to respect as she was willing to give out loud.
Before Yami could answer, she grabbed Miwa by the shoulder and started dragging her away.
"Stop standing there like an idiot. We're leaving."
"Wait, wait, let me look at it one more time!"
"You can look at it on the train."
Miwa stumbled along behind her, still clutching the sword.
Yami watched them go in silence.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground.
In this twisted world, everyone carried something heavy inside them. Some hid it under anger. Some under silence. Some under jokes and noise. Even people like Mai, prickly and difficult on the outside, were still just trying to survive the same broken world as everyone else.
"Yami!"
Yuji's voice broke the quiet cleanly in half.
He was waving from farther down the path with enough energy to make up for three people.
"Hurry up! Gojo sensei says he's taking us out for conveyor belt sushi! If we're late, the good seats will be gone!"
Yami turned.
"Coming."
He walked back toward them.
The light of the setting sun followed him, stretching his shadow long across the path. His back remained straight, steady as a pine in winter, as though no matter what storm might come next, it would never quite manage to bend him.
For a little while, things were peaceful.
There were no Special Grade cursed spirits roaring in the forest.
No conspiracy hanging openly overhead.
No blood.
Just teenagers talking too loudly about food, arguing over what they were going to order, and whether tuna, salmon, or fatty tuna deserved the top spot.
For a moment, it felt like ordinary life had finally won.
Then Megumi's phone rang.
He had been walking at the front of the group, one hand in his pocket, his face wearing that usual disinterested look. The moment the phone vibrated, he frowned and took it out.
Unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello."
The voice on the other end was tense, uncertain.
"Is this Mr. Megumi Fushiguro?"
Megumi's expression sharpened slightly.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"I'm Tsumiki's attending physician."
Everything changed.
The moment that name was spoken, the air around Megumi seemed to lock solid.
Tsumiki.
That one name struck harder than any shout.
His pupils contracted. His shoulders stiffened. The relaxed atmosphere that had been hanging around the group a second earlier vanished so quickly it almost felt like someone had cut it apart with a knife.
Yami noticed at once.
The cursed energy around Megumi was not rising in volume, but it was becoming unstable. Fear, anger, and something deeper, something that looked dangerously close to helplessness, were starting to churn beneath the surface.
Yuji noticed it too.
His voice dropped immediately.
"Fushiguro?"
Megumi did not answer.
He tightened his grip around the phone so hard that the knuckles of his fingers whitened. On the other end, the voice continued, and though it was faint, everyone standing nearby could hear enough.
"Tsumiki's condition has suddenly worsened..."
The doctor hesitated, then continued.
"We also found a photograph among her belongings."
A pause.
"The background in the photo appears to be a bridge in Saitama Prefecture."
Another pause.
"I believe it's called Yasohachi Bridge."
Yasohachi Bridge.
The name landed like a curse.
Megumi slowly lowered the phone from his ear.
His face had gone pale.
Not the ordinary paleness of surprise, but the kind that came when fear reached deep enough to touch the bones. For one brief instant, something close to panic crossed his eyes. Real panic. The kind he almost never showed.
When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
"Sorry."
He swallowed once.
"Sushi is going to have to wait."
No one joked after that.
No one complained.
Because every one of them could see it.
Tsumiki was Megumi's weak point.
Not in the pathetic sense the higher ups liked to exploit. In the human sense. She was family. One of the few people in his life tied to anything gentle, anything worth protecting beyond obligation and instinct.
And now that small piece of peace was being threatened.
Yuji stepped forward immediately.
"Then we go with you."
Megumi looked like he wanted to refuse on reflex. Like he wanted to carry the whole weight of it alone, because that was what he always tried to do.
Yami moved first.
He stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on Megumi's shoulder.
The contact was steady and warm.
Megumi's body, tense as a drawn wire, eased by the smallest amount.
"Let's check it out first," Yami said.
His tone did not rise. He did not try to force optimism into the moment. He only spoke with the same calm certainty he carried into everything else.
"No matter what's waiting there, we'll deal with it together."
.....
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