"Good day."
The door slid open, and a cool voice drifted in.
Perhaps it was the summer sun dazzling everyone's eyes, perhaps the heat was playing tricks on their nerves—the girl's silhouette seemed strangely indistinct.
Only her voice was crystal clear:
"May I come in?"
Like snow falling on a burning sea, turning it cool.
That was the line of poetry Yuji Itadori thought of first.
No one could possibly turn away a girl this cute.
"No. You're late. Go stand outside."
Kira refused without a flicker of expression.
"But Kugisaki-san isn't here either..."
The girl tilted her head. Sunlight from the window fell on her long white hair, softening that ice-like white into something warmer—like ice cream about to melt. That was the color.
"Can I please come in? It's so hot out there."
She blinked her amber eyes.
"She submitted a leave request in advance. You didn't."
Kira's heart didn't so much as ripple. His gaze swept over her with clinical indifference.
"It is indeed very hot outside. Standing out there would certainly be tough for a girl."
"So...?"
Her voice lifted slightly. Those detached eyes widened a fraction, tinged with hope.
"So it'll serve as an excellent deterrent. Go stand outside."
I despise people who can't respect a schedule.
Seeing that pleading was useless, the girl's brow furrowed in quiet resignation. A flicker of disappointment passed through her cool eyes. But she clearly wasn't the spoiled type—she stepped through the door without complaint.
In the last moment before she left the classroom, she turned back and smiled. Sunlight fell on her serene face, like snow dissolving into light.
"Kira-sensei, my name is Hoshino Ei. I hope you'll remember it."
"Mm." Kira gave an absent-minded nod and noted:
A pair of hands belonging to someone named Hoshino Ei.
Never seen them before.
He tapped the blackboard, pulling the boys' attention back, and continued:
"As you're probably aware, due to my Heavenly Restriction, I can say without any false modesty that I cannot use any Cursed Techniques."
"Therefore, your curriculum has exactly one subject: combat."
Under Fushiguro and Itadori's increasingly blank stares, Kira delivered his verdict:
"Figure it out in actual combat. Class dismissed."
"Meet back here at 2 PM."
Ring ring ring—
The bell chimed, echoing across the empty campus. Not a second early, not a second late. Exactly forty minutes.
Kira tidied the podium, tossed the broken chalk into the bin, dusted his hands, and walked out first.
Itadori and Fushiguro were left staring at each other.
"Megumi... this is the reliable senpai you told me about?"
"This is called a practical class."
Fushiguro's explanation was forceful, if not convincing.
Hoshino Ei stood obediently against the wall. Her cool face betrayed nothing. The pale blue skirt of Tokyo Jujutsu High's uniform hung straight. Her right leg was slightly bent, the toe of her leather shoe resting on the ground.
Kira stood half a head taller. He caught a faint trace of her scent—something soft and clean, like a forest after rain.
"Hoshino Ei, was it?"
"Mm."
"Keep standing."
Kira issued the order and strode out through the school gate under the blazing sun without looking back.
His lunch was at 1:00 PM. He wanted to be home by 12:30, spend half an hour preparing food, brew some tea, set out food for Stray Cat, take a thirty-minute nap, and return to school before two.
Kira adhered to his schedule absolutely.
Wrap up teaching duties by five. Then investigate the missing hand. Whether or not he found anything, work ended at eight.
By the time he emerged from the train station, it was already 12:40. There had been traffic on the way.
I'll walk. He looked at the sea of cars stretching from horizon to horizon, crammed bumper-to-bumper like a chain of caterpillar segments, and felt his stomach turn.
He walked briskly toward his apartment.
On the way, he passed a high school. He'd never taken this route before, and didn't know it was here.
"That's hilarious."
"Look at him, Junpei. Let's play a game."
"Ha ha ha."
The sun poured mercilessly onto the school gates, casting harsh halos on the ground. The air shimmered with heat. It was high noon—the sun at its cruelest.
A boy with half his face hidden sat slumped in the hottest spot, the searing light burning his eyes. His pupils were hollow and trembling—like a lamb's.
A circle of pierced teenagers surrounded him. Some covered their mouths, howling with laughter. Others had their phones out, snapping photos without shame. Camera flashes popped against the boy's skin, and his head sank lower.
Bullying. Kira had no interest. He walked past.
"Junpei~"
The ringleader was a large boy—"man" fit better. He was tall, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar to show a broad chest. He slapped the back of Junpei's neck and smirked:
"Junpei, why won't you just be friends with us?"
"Y-yeah, Junpei, just listen to him." Beside him, probably one of his cronies, wearing thick glasses and kneeling in a servile posture, his voice shaking: "Junpei, d-don't be stubborn."
Yeah. What am I even doing?
I could just apologize and everything would go back to normal. Just give in and I could have my old life back. So what am I doing right now?
Under the blinding sun, Junpei forced his eyes open but couldn't see clearly. Those things—he could never see them clearly. But they were seared into his heart, just like the burn marks branded into his forehead.
How pathetic... What am I doing? What am I holding on to?
"See? Your friend here gets it. Why are you so stubborn, Junpei~~"
The ringleader leaned in close, bringing his face inches from Junpei's, and murmured: "What's wrong, you fatherless little punk? Need me and your mother to teach you some manners?"
"Don't..." Junpei whispered, head down.
Kira's feet stopped. He looked at the briefcase in his hand with some surprise.
"What was that? Couldn't hear you!"
The ringleader drove his foot into Junpei's stomach, doubling him over. Another kick flipped him onto his back.
"Don't..."
"You've got some nerve, kid."
The ringleader raised his foot high and stomped on Junpei's face. Once, twice, three times—blood sprayed. One kick caught his temple and sent stars bursting across his vision. Consciousness dimmed. But he clenched his jaw and forced out the words, syllable by syllable:
"You... bas... tard!"
"You're dead!"
"Junpei, just apologize! He'll kill you!"
"Say that again?"
"I said—"
Junpei lifted his bloodied, mangled face. A crimson-lipped grin cracked open, agonized but defiant:
"How can anyone... apologize to an animal?"
"You little—!"
The ringleader laughed in disbelief, face flushing scarlet. Junpei's defiance was a public humiliation. He needed to reassert himself. He grabbed a steel pipe from nearby, raised it high, and swung—
The pipe stopped just short of Junpei's face.
Everyone stared at the man gripping the pipe. Golden hair. Pale blue eyes, calm as a still lake.
"School's out, isn't it? I happen to be a teacher. If your own teachers can't be bothered, mind if I step in?"
"Wha—" The ringleader started to protest, but froze. Something about the man's calm face sent a wave of primal terror through him.
As if an infinite, bottomless malice were seeping from that body. As if it were wrapping around him, suffocating him.
His legs went weak. Sweat soaked half his body.
"It's after school hours. Time to be good boys."
Kira patted his neck gently. "Right?"
The ringleader stared at Kira. Whatever tough words he wanted to spit out died in his throat. He turned to his crew.
"L-let's go."
"Thank you..."
Junpei struggled to his feet. The scorching light fell on their retreating backs, blurring the edges.
"Junpei, right?"
Kira felt the Arrow stirring inside the briefcase. He turned in the summer sunlight, and spoke the words that would change the boy's life forever:
"Do you believe in gravity?"