A week passed.
Time, they said, healed all wounds—but Kishibe knew better. It only gave you space to ignore the pain until you could fight again.
He stood once more in Tokyo Jujutsu High's southern courtyard, blade strapped to his back. The scars from the special grade curse had closed over, angry red lines carved into flesh—but the real bruises were buried deeper.
Gojo noticed him first. He bounded down the temple steps, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose. "Look who crawled out of the grave! Thought we'd have to start a memorial fund."
Kishibe snorted. "You would've pocketed the donations."
Geto joined them with a quiet smile. "Good to have you back."
Kishibe gave a nod. "We got a mission, or are we just here to exchange insults?"
"Tochigi," Geto replied, holding out the file Yaga had given them. "Several minor curses popping up in a tunnel system near an old dam. Locals have been reporting strange deaths and disappearances. It's been escalating."
"It's bad enough they called us in," Gojo added, flipping his sunglasses up. "Should be easy, though. Training wheels kind of mission, yeah?"
Kishibe frowned. "Those are the ones that go bad."
---
Mission Field - Tochigi Dam Ruins
The trio moved in silent formation through the moss-eaten tunnels. Water dripped overhead. The air stank of mildew and rot.
Geto raised his hand, signaling a pause. He gestured toward the branching path ahead. "Cursed energy's split. Two sources. One's moving."
Kishibe stepped forward. "I'll take the one circling us."
Gojo made a mock salute. "Don't die again."
Kishibe didn't smile.
He slipped down the narrow shaft, senses honed, breath steady. The shadows swallowed him.
In the distance, something skittered. He turned—then it lunged. A grotesque curse, like a twisted centipede with a human infant's face, rushed him with a high-pitched cry.
Kishibe spun, Severance flashing out in a clean arc. The cursed flesh parted in silence—only for the pieces to writhe and reform.
"Regeneration?"
He shifted his stance, cursed energy humming through his bones.
The centipede screamed again, spitting acidic bile that melted stone. Kishibe dodged narrowly, eyes narrowing.
"Then I'll just have to hit harder."
He let loose a second slash—cursed energy snapping with sharp intensity. Severance vibrated like a tuning fork, cutting deeper—this time, into the cursed core. The creature spasmed, shuddered, and dissolved into dust.
He stood there a moment, heart thudding.
Back at the central chamber, Gojo and Geto had finished their own fight. One curse lay pinned to the wall by Geto's spirits; another was cored open, half-vaporized by Gojo's technique.
"Kinda nice being back together, huh?" Gojo said, stretching.
Kishibe said nothing. But he didn't walk away either.
---
Later That Night
The three of them sat under the temple eaves, the cicadas screaming into the darkness. Shoko approached briefly, nodding to Kishibe. She handed him a smoke. He lit it without a word.
"Still breathing?" she asked.
"Disappointingly."
She didn't push further. Just lit one of her own and sat beside him.
Gojo watched from a few steps away. "You ever think we're all just dying a little slower than the rest?"
Kishibe exhaled smoke. "I think some of us are already dead. Just walking it off."
No one laughed. Not this time.
---
Elsewhere — Nightfall
Yaga stood alone in his office, reading a sealed scroll by candlelight.
"They've found her," he murmured. "The Star Plasma Vessel."
Outside, the wind howled through the trees.
And somewhere beneath it all, the wheels of fate turned once more.