The curtain slowly rose into the air.
The sorcerer who was barely standing with its support tried to straighten his body, but his knees trembled and he almost collapsed.
"Are you alright?!"
The assistant manager, who had been waiting anxiously outside, rushed forward the moment the barrier vanished. He caught the injured man before he could fall.
But instead of leaning on him for support, the sorcerer grabbed his collar with desperate strength.
"They're dead… all of them are dead! Why was it us? Why was it me?!"
Facing his colleague and friend, he could no longer suppress his grief. His emotions burst out like a flood breaching a dam.
Death was misfortune for the dead, but for those who survived, it could become an endless nightmare.
Ever since he had chosen the path of a sorcerer, he had known this outcome was possible. He had told himself countless times that one day he might die on a mission, or he might watch his friends die in front of him.
He thought he could accept it. But when the reality was thrust into his face, he realized he wasn't as strong as he imagined.
In this line of work, living was a blessing, and dying was expected. But bearing the hopes of the dead while continuing to live; that was the true torment.
He could never forget that moment when his two companions sacrificed themselves to give him a chance to escape. That last cry of "Run!" would haunt him for the rest of his life.
It was a curse in itself.
"My condolences." The assistant manager's pupils trembled slightly. He clenched his teeth, but those were the only words he could offer.
In his position, he had witnessed far too many tragedies like this. Over time, he had grown numb to them. When he saw the curtain rise and only three figures remained, he had already guessed the ending.
"What you need now is treatment and rest. I'll have you taken back immediately." He guided the man toward the ambulance waiting nearby. Doctors and nurses were already prepared, and at his command, they quickly lifted the injured sorcerer inside.
Once that was done, the assistant manager turned to face the two brothers.
"Thank you both for this mission. After the investigation is complete, I will submit the paperwork and ensure your payment is processed."
He bowed deeply toward them.
"We're still unregistered sorcerers for now," Mukuro replied casually. "But the residual cursed energy left inside, along with this, should be enough for your evaluation and to calculate the reward."
He tossed something toward the assistant manager as if it were a toy.
The man caught it instinctively, then froze in shock.
"This is…?!"
In his hands lay none other than Sukuna's finger, the legendary special-grade cursed object.
As a graduate of Jujutsu High, he recognized its worth right away. Even an ordinary cursed spirit could gain terrifying strength if it devoured this.
Which meant… these two had exorcised a special-grade curse in such a short amount of time?
Strength on that level was enough to place them among the core pillars of the entire jujutsu world.
"Any other questions?" Toji crossed his arms, his tone showing impatience at the man's dazed silence.
"N-none! I'll report everything truthfully to my superiors. May I have your contact information…?"
After exchanging contact details and Toji leaving his bank account number, the two sides parted.
The assistant manager led the police into the hospital to recover the bodies of the fallen sorcerers.
The brothers, however, had little appetite left after recalling the things they'd witnessed inside. They grabbed a quick vegetarian meal nearby before leaving in haste.
* * *
A few days later.
Because the "Shokushin" incident also involved Sukuna's finger, Kyoto Jujutsu High held an emergency meeting. After some discussion, they decided to recognize Toji as a grade 1 sorcerer.
(According to the ranking standards, Toji could never be promoted to special grade. He excelled in single combat, but special grade required power capable of wiping out entire nations.)
As for Mukuro, his age was deemed too young. The higher-ups dismissed him as a child and didn't assign him any official grade.
But what truly surprised the brothers was the bounty they received. The reward for exorcising a special-grade spirit reached tens of millions of yen.
They had once again made a fortune.
But money also brought trouble. Or more accurately, trouble came knocking on their door.
* * *
One weekend morning.
"Mukuro, come let Mom take a look! I heard you awakened a technique, is that true?"
The woman who had abandoned him years ago, unable to sense any cursed energy in him at birth, now shamelessly stood in their yard, knocking on the door. She had come back once she heard rumors that he could control curses.
In this family, cursed energy and techniques were everything. For a powerless woman like her, the only way to gain any position was to raise a son of value.
Now, she thought she had found her chance.
"You'd better leave before we lose our patience."
Toji was the one who opened the door. Hearing her voice, Mukuro didn't even bother getting out of bed. He simply issued a clear order to drive her away.
"Is this really the way you treat me? Mukuro Zenin, I'm your mother!"
She dared not meet Toji's sharp eyes. Instead, she raised her voice and shouted into the house.
"So what? You didn't give me my name, you didn't raise me, you didn't do anything for me. Do you want something from us, 'Mother'?" Mukuro sat up, resting his chin on one hand. His eyes held only faint mockery, empty of any warmth.
"I… I know I wasn't a good mother before. But no matter what, I carried you for ten months and gave birth to you!" Her voice faltered, and she could only play the card of blood ties.
"Oh? Do you want me to say thank you?"
By now Mukuro had walked over to stand beside Toji. The rejection in his words was so obvious she couldn't ignore it.
Whatever she wanted to say died in her throat when she saw his cold gaze. In the end, she turned and left in humiliation.
"How long do you plan to stand there, old man?"
As the brothers watched her retreat, Toji's eyes shifted to somewhere else.
"Hahaha, as expected, nothing escapes the two of you. But calling me 'old man' is a bit much, don't you think?"
Out of a corner of the yard walked a man with stiff mustaches and a gourd of wine in hand.
Naobito Zenin, currently the only person in the clan who could hold a proper conversation with the brothers.
"Give it another ten years, maybe less. The old head will pass away, and all my brothers are already scrambling to seize power." He took a heavy swig of alcohol before speaking again.
In families like the Big Three, the clan head's word was absolute. Everyone was scrambling to strengthen their factions, hoping to leave a deep impression as potential successors.
That was why, the moment rumors spread about Mukuro awakening a technique, his "mother" came shamelessly knocking. It was likely not even her idea.
"Unfortunately, we have no interest in that seat. We don't plan on getting involved in that power struggle either." Mukuro shrugged. His voice carried no trace of respect for the so-called clan head's position.
"Suit yourselves. I only came to see how my dear sister-in-law would embarrass herself." Naobito waved the gourd and walked away.
What he didn't know was that Mukuro had left half his thought unspoken: letting his future nephew sit in that seat wouldn't be a bad idea.
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