Jujutsu High. Faculty Office.
The full moon hung high in the sky.
A candle flickered on the desk, casting long shadows.
Masamichi Yaga sat amidst a pile of felt dolls, knitting with a serious expression. Shoko Ieiri checked her watch, looking annoyed.
"I told you," Shoko muttered. "You should have notified that scum an hour earlier."
"I gave him half an hour's notice," Yaga replied without looking up. "His habit of being late is terminal."
Creak.
The door opened. Gojo Satoru strolled in, bathed in moonlight.
"Sorry, sorry!"
He grinned, hands in his pockets. "I didn't expect someone as busy as Shoko to be here."
"Too slow, Satoru!" Yaga put down his knitting. "I haven't settled the score for the faculty dorms yet!"
"Just deduct it from my salary," Gojo waved his hand dismissively.
He turned to Shoko. "So? Did something happen?"
Shoko lit a cigarette. "Principal Yaga told me about your analysis of White Zetsu."
"Your Six Eyes were right. He isn't a Cursed Spirit."
"Oh?" Gojo raised an eyebrow. "Dissection results?"
Shoko nodded. "He's more like... a walking corpse wrapped in Cursed Energy."
"Interesting," Gojo stroked his chin. "Not a puppet. Not a Spirit. A new breed? Or... resurrection?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" Yaga snapped. "If ghosts existed, the world would have ended long ago."
"Shoko... you don't actually believe that, do you?"
Shoko took a deep drag. Her expression was grave.
"Actually," she exhaled smoke. "When Mirai brought him in... Zetsu was already dead."
"WHAT?!"
Yaga stood up so fast his sunglasses fell off. "He was dead?!"
"Do you know what you're saying?!"
If a Cursed Spirit dies, it disintegrates. That is the fundamental law of Jujutsu. It has no exceptions.
"Shoko, are you sure?" Gojo asked, his smile fading.
Shoko glared at him. "Who do you think you're talking to?"
"With the first incision, I knew. His blood was black and coagulated. It smelled like rot."
"I cut his brain. I cut his heart. Even a Special Grade couldn't survive that."
"But his body didn't disappear."
The room fell silent.
"Then..." Yaga picked up his sunglasses. "What Mirai-sensei said was true? He took the body back for 'repairs'?"
"Who knows?" Shoko murmured.
...
Zenin Estate. The Second Underground Level.
Naobito Zenin walked down the dark corridor, followed by Mirai.
Standing guard at the barrier was a young man with a blond ponytail and purple triangle markings under his eyes.
Haruta Shigemo.
He was usually a bully. A sadist who preyed on the weak. But seeing Mirai, he froze.
He quickly hid the dagger he had been holding behind his back and forced a stiff smile.
"Clan Head! What brings you here today?"
"I heard magpies chirping in the cave!" Haruta giggled nervously. "I knew a VIP was coming!"
Naobito scoffed. Magpies underground? This idiot is desperate.
Mirai glanced at Haruta with his crimson eyes. He didn't say a word. He just walked past him.
Haruta trembled. He had been imprisoned here for years. He knew the consequences of offending the tyrant.
...
The Farm.
They passed through the barrier.
Yahoo~ Chirp~ Chirp~
Strange, distorted cries echoed from the darkness.
They entered the main chamber.
Naobito frowned. The sight was horrific.
Hundreds of Cursed Spirits—ranging from Grade 4 to Grade 1—were hung upside down from the ceiling by Cursed Chains.
Their bodies were covered in cuts.
Thick, purple blood dripped from their wounds into large vats below.
It was a slaughterhouse. A farm.
Mirai was harvesting their Cursed Energy.
"Haruta," Mirai said softly, practicing his 'genuine' smile. "Continue your work."
"YES!!"
Haruta shrieked. He saw the smile.
The Devil's Smile!
Haruta remembered. The last time Mirai smiled like that, he had broken Haruta's fingers one by one.
Haruta scrambled toward a hanging Cursed Spirit. He raised his sword—a Cursed Tool made from a severed hand.
SLASH!
He hacked at the Spirit.
SCREECH!
The Spirit screamed in agony. Purple blood gushed into the vat.
Naobito watched in silence.
Usually, Cursed Spirits were monsters that mocked humans. But here...
This was Hell. And Mirai was the Devil running it.
....
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