Junpei Yoshino

After hearing what Nanami said, Itadori fell silent for a few seconds.

Of course he knew he wasn't strong enough, but did that mean he had to stand by and watch Mahito keep hurting people?

He clenched his fists and looked down at the remains of the three transfigured humans, which hadn't vanished like other cursed spirits.

One had even been a child. When the attack came, the books in the child's schoolbag had spilled all over the ground.

Were these things that had once been human not even allowed to return to dust?

"I know." Itadori relaxed his fists. The blood on the backs of his hands had already dried. "That's why I'm learning from you."

Nanami glanced at him and nodded.

He returned his short blade to his waist, then took a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his suit and held it out.

"Clean your hands. Next, you'll learn how to track a technique's user through the traces of cursed energy they leave behind."

Itadori took the handkerchief and wiped the sticky residue from his fists, staining the white cotton a grayish brown.

Nanami crouched down and gently rested his palm on a transfigured human's corpse.

An extremely faint trace of cursed energy remained inside the body, left by the technique's user.

"Put your hand on it and channel your cursed energy."

Itadori did as instructed. His perception of cursed energy wasn't as precise as Nanami's, but he still sensed it as his palm drew close.

His fingertips touched the cold corpse, and a strange sensation welled up inside him.

Flowing, twisting, unsettling fluctuations of cursed energy.

"Is this that Mahito guy's cursed technique?"

"It's the cursed residue left by his technique." Nanami stood up and adjusted his glasses. "Ordinary traces of cursed energy aren't this obvious. He's deliberately leaving us clues."

He paused, waiting for Itadori to take his hand away.

"Can your cursed energy perception pick up on this sense of wrongness?"

"Yeah. It's disgusting." Itadori rubbed his hand against his trousers twice, trying to wipe away the sensation.

"Remember that feeling," Nanami said. "If you sense the same cursed residue somewhere else, you'll be able to establish where he's been operating."

"The first step in tracking isn't finding the enemy. It's knowing where the enemy has been."

Itadori closed his eyes and ran that warped sensation through his mind once more, then opened them.

"I've got it."

Nanami took his phone from his pocket and opened his LINE chat with Mashiro.

"Nanami": Old residential district, Tokorozawa City. Three transfigured humans exorcised. The technique user's area of activity is expanding southeast.

A reply came within seconds.

"Mashiro": Got it. I'm tracking a target too, near Satozakura High School.

"Nanami": A high school student?

"Mashiro": Saw him yesterday. Mahito made contact with him, but he hasn't been transfigured.

Nanami's thumb hovered over the screen for a moment as he considered it.

"Nanami": Left untouched on purpose?

"Mashiro": Yeah. Looks like he's planning something.

"Nanami": Do you need us there?

"Mashiro": I'll observe him alone for now. Send Itadori over in a bit.

Nanami put his phone back in his pocket. "Miss Mashiro has made some progress too."

Crouching on the ground, Itadori picked up the scattered textbooks one by one and stacked them neatly. "What kind of progress?"

"Mahito has set his sights on a high school student. She's tracking that target now."

Itadori raised his head, his expression turning serious. "Are we going to help Mashiro?"

Nanami looked into Itadori's eyes. They held the same calm as when he'd punched through the transfigured human's head moments earlier.

But Nanami also understood that, just like Mashiro's, that calm had always concealed a raging storm of fury.

"No. Right now, she needs to establish why Mahito contacted the target, not fight."

Nanami turned and headed out of the alley, his leather shoes scraping over the gravel. "But she wants you to come over later. There must be something she needs you to do."

Itadori watched Nanami's retreating back, then glanced down again at the stack of textbooks on the ground.

He straightened the Japanese textbook sitting crookedly on top, stood up, and followed Nanami.

At the end of the alley, the setting sun sank below the rooftops of the old residential district.

The sky shifted from dark red to grayish blue. Dust and wind-scattered cursed residue hung in the air.

Satozakura High School, four in the afternoon.

Half an hour had passed since the final bell, and most of the students had left.

Shouts from the sports clubs drifted over from the playing field, scattered by the wind until only their faint trailing echoes lingered in the air.

A figure emerged from the school gates onto the outermost stretch of sidewalk.

His Satozakura High School uniform was slightly wrinkled, with a few inconspicuous scuff marks on the fabric of his left shoulder. An earphone cord lay over his shoulder, but the earbuds weren't in his ears. They dangled against his chest, swaying gently.

He walked slowly, his shoulders drawn slightly inward, his gaze always fixed on the ground.

Occasionally, students overtook him from behind. No one greeted him, and he never looked up, simply continuing on his way home.

This boy, an obvious loner who looked like an easy target for bullies, was Junpei Yoshino.

Mashiro sat by the window of a family restaurant diagonally across from the school gates.

On the table were a strawberry milkshake she'd taken only two sips of and a nearly demolished supersized serving of fries.

She propped her cheek on her left hand, a straw between her lips, and lightly traced circles along the edge of the table with her finger.

A slight smile rose on Mashiro's face when she saw Junpei leave the school.

Releasing the straw she'd bitten flat and covered in tooth marks, Mashiro finished the remaining fries and licked her fingers.

The cursed residue on Junpei was stronger than yesterday. Traces of Idle Transfiguration had built up inside him, layer upon layer.

Mahito hadn't transfigured him all at once. He was repeatedly seeping in, invading Junpei's soul bit by bit.

Each layer reached a little deeper than the last, penetrating inward from the surface of his skin to the nascent core of his cursed energy.

Mahito dealt with most test subjects in one go, giving them a twist before dumping them on the street to wait for the results.

But Junpei was different. He was a toy that interested Mahito, and a means for them to shatter Yuji's psychological defenses.

Mahito was waiting for an event that would make Junpei break down completely.

For example, in the original story, he'd only just befriended jujutsu sorcerers when his mother was killed by one, sending his hatred straight through the roof.

But Mashiro wasn't about to let Mahito do whatever he pleased.

She took two thousand-yen notes from her wallet, tucked them beneath the milkshake glass, and left the restaurant.

There weren't many pedestrians on the street. A handful of housewives carried shopping bags, and the convenience store's automatic doors opened and closed repeatedly.

She stayed about fifty meters from Junpei, close enough to sense his cursed energy while keeping him in sight so she could adjust her pace at any time.

Junpei took the same route as yesterday. After leaving the school gates, he passed the cinema entrance and stopped to look at a poster for a couple of seconds.

The poster had been replaced today. It advertised a newly released horror film, depicting a face split open.

Junpei looked at it for a moment, then turned his gaze away and headed home through the alley beside the cinema.

The other chapters will be posted a little later.