The terrifying face on the screen lunged forward, making Kamihara Hajime retract his earlier thoughts. What lay beneath the curtain of long, black hair was not human. A single rotten eye stared out from a face stripped of all other features—no nose, no mouth, nothing that could be called human.
Hajime couldn't even confirm if the thing had a body beneath the white clothes and tangled hair. He stared into the screen's eye for several seconds before the footage cut back to the stone well. The entire video was short, abrupt. What once might've been dismissed as a cheap horror clip was now a genuine, deadly Curse.
Across from him, Naoxu—still clutching the owl-shaped Cursed Corpse—watched nervously. When Hajime put down his phone and no signs of a Curse manifesting followed, he asked for an update on the previous victim.
The woman's heart had rotted away without a single mark on her skin. She died alone in her apartment, and neighbors hadn't noticed anything strange. So far, the Curse seemed to kill only those who viewed the video, suggesting it operated remotely or from a long distance.
Whether it could Curse multiple people at once was still unknown. The so-called "initial spreader" was likely not the first. There must be others who forwarded the video, unseen, unreported—perhaps already dead.
As Hajime took the Cursed Corpse back from Naoxu, the stream audience wailed—their view had just gone dark. Hajime's profile appeared only occasionally now as he moved out of camera frame.
While considering how best to draw the Curse out, a new report arrived. Someone else had watched the video and called for help, but they were panicking, driving aimlessly across town. The operator barely managed to get their location before the signal weakened.
Hajime moved fast. He couldn't leave Naoxu behind—if the Curse targeted victims sequentially, she might trigger another outbreak near the base. Bringing her was the safest option.
They got into the car and drove toward the last known signal.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere on the highway…
Asano Ichiki, 37, was the image of a model citizen—university-educated, a mid-level manager, husband to a childhood sweetheart, father of a bright little girl. Ever since the public revelation of Jujutsu, he'd watched his company thrive under the rising demand for Curse-related media.
They'd even hired a self-proclaimed "wild" Jujutsu Sorcerer to lend their programs authenticity. Though the man wasn't powerful by professional standards, he knew how to entertain. Asano produced shows featuring him—talks, faux tutorials, even "behind the curtain" Curse discussions for curious viewers.
He believed the worst of the Curse Era was behind them. Life had continued smoothly. Until yesterday.
Browsing his hobby forum, Asano opened what he thought was a video from a beginner asking about a new model kit. What played was a familiar sight—forest, stone well, dread dripping from every frame. It hit him all at once. He'd seen this before, years ago with his wife during a movie night. Back then, her fear had made him feel brave.
Now, he was alone and terrified.
The video vanished almost instantly. He couldn't even confirm if it had truly played.
Gripped by panic, Asano lied to his wife, claiming he had to work late. He fled their home in his car, barely able to think. On the road, he scoured social media and found the official Jujutsu emergency contact. Relief came only when he was told that a Special Grade Sorcerer had been dispatched.
But then the road changed.
The pavement around him was suddenly overrun with half-dead weeds, and trees that hadn't been there moments ago rose like skeletal arms along the roadside.
He hit the gas.
The operator's voice in his ear was distant now, barely comprehensible over static and the roar of his engine. Every tree looked unnatural. The headlights barely illuminated a few feet ahead. He couldn't even see the passenger seat beside him.
Then he saw it.
A flash of white—long hair, no face. A second later, a withered well appeared on the road where the figure had stood.
He swerved. The car twisted violently and smashed into a tree.
The airbag saved his life, but his head swam. Through blurred vision, he spotted a figure standing before the well.
And then—
"No signal."
---
Not far away, the tracking system in Hajime's vehicle lost connection with Asano's phone. That area wasn't remote; the signal shouldn't have vanished.
"Curse outbreak," Hajime muttered.
New intel confirmed his suspicion. The Curse had likely begun to manifest in full.
"I'll take her ahead. You return," he told the driver.
Without waiting, Hajime grabbed Naoxu's wrist and activated his Technique. The world froze. Cars, streetlights, even insects in midair—locked in time like painted scenery. Hajime pulled her from the car, apologizing briefly.
Then the whirlwind began.
Reality bent around them, scenery flickering like ink on wet parchment. To Naoxu, it was surreal, as if they had slipped into an abstract painting. But Hajime's expression was fixed, calm, focused.
"Something similar to an Innate Domain," he noted under his breath.
Following the trail of residual Cursed Energy, he pinpointed the scene. The air was heavy with malevolent intent. The trees around them twisted unnaturally, and the Curse's presence hung thick.
They arrived too late.
Asano lay lifeless on the ground, his expression locked in primal fear. Before him stood the white-clad figure—hair like an oily curtain, her body more suggestion than flesh.
"Stay back," Hajime said firmly, lowering Naoxu behind him. He released his Technique and reversed some of the temporal backlash she'd suffered, then immediately activated it again.
Sadako had already noticed them.
She didn't turn. Instead, an eye opened in the back of her head, nestled between strands of black hair.
Hajime didn't flinch.
In one smooth motion, he summoned Totsuka-no-Tsurugi, slicing through the Curse like a sword through clay. Her form shattered into blocks—but there was no blood, no flesh. What spilled was something unknown. Her robes weren't clothes—they were part of her.
He retrieved Asano's body and once more released his Technique.
The live stream flickered violently. Viewers saw a brief blackout, then a jarring shift. They were met with the image of Sadako… just before her form scattered like ash. Gasps and cheers erupted across the net.
They saw the time distortion. The perfect strike. The effortless exorcism.
But Hajime wasn't celebrating.
What remained of the Curse dissolved too cleanly, too quickly. Like a projection rather than a spirit. A copy, not the core.
He narrowed his eyes.
"She's not gone."
---
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