He gripped the handle and pushed the blade up an inch with his thumb. The steel slid out of the scabbard with a sharp, clean hiss. The metal wasn't shiny; it had a dark, muted finish that seemed to absorb the dim light of the hotel room.
[Item: Nightfall (Grade 2)]
He didn't pull it all the way out. The hotel room was way too cramped to swing a sword, and he didn't want to risk cutting the cheap desk in half with his raw strength. He snapped the blade back into the scabbard with a solid click.
Ren stared at the blue screen floating above the bed.
He had 6,095 points. Upgrading Nightfall to Grade 1 would likely cost the same five thousand points.
A Grade 1 weapon could cut through armored curses without getting wedged in the bone. But if he spent the points on the sword, the Wraith's Fang stayed at Grade 2.
He tapped his fingers against the dark scabbard resting on his legs. He needed to make a choice before he walked downstairs to meet Nanami. Kawasaki was a live investigation.
If they ran into something worse than a Grade 3 today, a basic knife wasn't going to cut it.
The Wraith's Fang had already served its primary purpose: it allowed him to perceive cursed spirits despite his Heavenly Restriction.
That passive ability alone made it invaluable, but at the end of the day, a fourteen-inch blade was a massive liability against larger, faster, or heavily armored targets.
If he tried to punch through the thick hide of a Grade 2 or Grade 1 curse with a knife, he'd have to get right inside their guard. That was a gamble he couldn't afford to take, especially not in a live investigation where Gojo wasn't hovering in the rafters to bail him out.
"System," Ren commanded, his voice barely a murmur in the quiet room. "Upgrade Nightfall."
The translucent blue interface chimed softly, a new prompt sliding to the center of his vision.
[Confirm Upgrade: Nightfall (Grade 2) → (Grade 1)]
[Cost: 5,000 System Points]
[Y/N?]
Ren didn't hesitate. He tapped [Y].
The interface blinked.
[Processing...]
[Current Balance: 1,095 System Points]
The change was instantaneous. The heavy, solid weight across Ren's lap suddenly spiked, the mass of the weapon shifting and re-centering itself with frightening precision.
A pulse of dense, suffocating cursed energy washed over his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end before it rapidly condensed, sucking back into the weapon.
The matte, charcoal-gray scabbard seemed to darken, drinking in the faint morning light filtering through the window.
Ren wrapped his hand around the hilt. The grip felt perfectly contoured, almost as if it had molded itself to the exact dimensions of his palm. He pushed the handguard up with his thumb.
Shhhk.
The blade slid free. It didn't gleam. The steel was forged from something entirely different now—the spine of the blade was a deep, abyssal black, fading into a chilling, crystalline silver at the razor-thin edge. Faint, jagged veins of dark cursed energy actively drifted just beneath the surface of the metal, like ink suspended in water.
[Item: Nightfall (Grade 1)] Description:
A high-tier cursed tool forged from heavily concentrated negative energy and rare steel. Capable of effortlessly severing dense cursed armor. Its blade produces a localized damping field that prevents curses from immediately regenerating severed limbs.
Ren let out a low whistle, staring at the notification. "Anti-regeneration. Now that is worth five grand."
He snapped the blade shut. The click echoed sharply in the small room, the oppressive hum of the weapon instantly vanishing the moment it was fully sheathed.
He didn't need to carry it around in a bulky guitar case like Maki did with her polearms. He tapped the second slot in his inventory grid. Space warped around his hand, and Nightfall vanished, safely stored away until he needed to summon it with a thought.
Ren glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. 06:42 AM.
Time to go to work.
He stood up, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped. He grabbed a clean black t-shirt from his duffel, pulled it on, and shrugged into his heavy jacket.
The hallway was silent, smelling faintly of cheap carpet cleaner and old smoke.
When Ren stepped out of the elevator and into the small, fluorescent-lit lobby on the ground floor, he wasn't surprised to see Nanami already there.
He was checking his watch, his expression locked into its default state of absolute exhaustion.
Yuji was sitting on one of the stiff lobby chairs, practically vibrating with energy despite the early hour, a half-eaten convenience store melon pan in his hand.
"Morning," Ren said smoothly, walking over and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
Nanami looked up from his watch. 06:48 AM.
"You are early," Nanami noted, his tone flat but carrying a faint trace of approval. "Good. Punctuality is one of the few things in this world that actually matters."
"I try my best," Ren replied, offering a lazy half-smile.
"Hey, Ren!" Yuji chimed in, swallowing his bite of bread. "Did you sleep well? I was out cold the second my head hit the pillow."
"Slept like a rock," Ren lied effortlessly, thinking of his significantly depleted System balance and the furious voice note currently sitting in his phone's chat history.
Nanami adjusted his strange, spotted goggles and pushed the glass doors open, stepping out into the cool, gray morning air of Kawasaki.
"Let's move," Nanami ordered, not looking back
...
The walk to the Kinema Cinema was a short, quiet trek through the waking streets of Kawasaki. The gray concrete and muted morning light.
Ren didn't offer any small talk, perfectly content to be the silent observer while Yuji peppered Nanami with questions about the investigation.
They arrived just past seven. The theater looked entirely unremarkable, save for the web of bright yellow caution tape barricading the main entrance and the two uniformed police officers standing guard.
Nanami didn't break stride. He reached into the inner breast pocket of his suit and produced a leather-bound badge, flashing it. The local cops barely glanced at the a forged detective badge provided by Jujutsu High before dutifully lifting the tape.
Inside, the lobby was dim and cold, smelling faintly of stale buttered popcorn, industrial bleach, and copper.
"This is the primary location," Nanami stated, his voice flat as he pulled a manila folder from his briefcase and handed it to Yuji. "Three high school students were found dead in Theater 4."