Changing the menu

When he pushed open the dormitory doors, the daylight was already dazzling.

It had just rained, and the smell of earth rose with the damp air.

Yang Jian stepped through puddles as he crossed the playground and stopped in front of a vending machine.

The machine's screen was dark. A handwritten note was taped over the coin slot: out of order.

He raised a hand and gave the side of the machine a moderate slap.

Nothing happened.

He slapped it again.

Clunk.

A can of cola rolled into the dispensing tray. Yang Jian bent down, scooped it up, and pulled the tab. Bubbles hissed to the surface.

He tipped his head back and took a swig. Ice-cold, with just the right sweetness.

The phone in his trouser pocket vibrated.

A message from Suguru Geto.

"East-side bleachers by the playground."

Yang Jian climbed the steps. Suguru Geto sat in the shade at the top of the bleachers, an unopened can of black coffee held between his fingers.

He wasn't wearing his Jujutsu High uniform today. He had changed into a black T-shirt and looked more casual than usual.

Yang Jian sat beside him and took another sip of cola.

Bubbles churned at the base of his throat, sending a chill straight up.

"What kind of dishes are you planning to put on the new table?"

Suguru Geto was silent for a while before answering, "I haven't decided yet. But at least I don't want to keep eating spoiled food."

His tone was flat, without a trace of fluctuation.

Yang Jian turned to glance at him.

Suguru Geto's face looked calm in the morning light, but something pressed beneath that calm was slowly cracking. After staring at the playground for a long time, he suddenly asked, "Yang Jian, have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes." Yang Jian answered immediately.

"What did it feel like?"

"Nothing. About the same as chopping vegetables. The difference is, vegetables don't scream when you chop them."

Suguru Geto gave a brief, silent laugh.

Yang Jian set his cola can on the bleacher step. Metal met concrete with a soft sound.

"The difference is whether you still have a sense of right and wrong when you kill. When those people at Jujutsu Headquarters kill, all they have in their hearts is a ledger."

"What about you? What do you have in your heart?"

Yang Jian thought for a moment.

"Cola."

Suguru Geto froze for two seconds. Then his shoulders shook, and he laughed out loud for real.

"Satoru was right. You're good at balancing the books."

"He stole my drinks, so I sent him off to dismantle a barrier. That's called equivalent exchange," Yang Jian corrected him with a smile. "Not balancing the books."

The sun climbed higher, shrinking the shade over the bleachers by half.

Suguru Geto stood up.

He was half a head taller than Yang Jian, but whenever he stood beside him, he always felt a notch less imposing.

"I have a mission this morning. A Grade 2 Cursed Spirit over in Chiba. Want to come?"

"No." Yang Jian refused without hesitation. "A Grade 2 Cursed Spirit isn't worth the trip."

"When did you start getting picky about missions?"

"When I realized what I needed to do would cost a lot more than I'd expected. Tie fifty Grade 2 Cursed Spirits together, and they still wouldn't be enough to fill a gap between my teeth."

Suguru Geto lifted the coffee can in his hand.

"I'll be off, then."

"Mm."

Suguru Geto walked down the steps, then stopped after a few paces. He didn't turn around.

"Yang Jian."

"What is it?"

"If one day I really do change the whole menu..." Still facing away from Yang Jian, Suguru Geto asked, "Will you come eat?"

Yang Jian watched his back. Sunlight cut in from the side, stretching his shadow long.

"Depends on what's being served. If it's spoiled food, I won't eat it."

Suguru Geto nodded and quickened his pace, soon disappearing from view.

Yang Jian was in no hurry to return to the dormitory.

He sat in the bleachers for another ten minutes or so and drained the can of cola.

The sound of the aluminum can crumpling carried through the empty bleachers, barely echoing.

His phone chimed again.

Shiu Kong.

"Kusumoto's people are boarding the Shinkansen at Kyoto Station at ten this morning. Estimated arrival in Tokyo is twelve thirty. Three people are accompanying them, including Kagekatsu Uesugi.

"There's also someone carrying an internal transfer order from Jujutsu Headquarters. The reference number belongs to the Kyoto branch. Took some digging, but his personnel file is locked. Even his publicly accessible background has been scrubbed clean."

Yang Jian read it and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

He brushed the dust off his trouser legs, stood, and headed back to the dormitory.

Passing the vending machine, he gave it a kick.

A can of oolong tea dropped out.

He didn't want that, so he kicked it again.

This time, a can of cola.

Holding both cans in one hand, Yang Jian returned to the dormitory.

He tossed the oolong tea onto the desk, opened the new cola, and sat on the edge of his bed to work out today's accounts.

Kusumoto's people would reach Tokyo at noon.

If they followed procedure, they wouldn't enter the Ichikawa site for their follow-up inspection until two or three in the afternoon.

He and Suguru Geto had already cleaned the site spotless—twelve Petri Dishes, one stroke of the Chopping Knife apiece, all reduced to grayish-white powder. Even the dust had been swept away by the ghost domain.

The floor had been wiped, the smell had dissipated, and the temperature-controlled air conditioning was running normally. The electricity meter readings matched those from the previous few days.

Yang Jian picked up his phone and replied to Shiu Kong.

"Stop looking into that sorcerer from Kyoto. If you uncover his background, you won't live long enough to collect your payment."

Shiu Kong typed extremely fast. "You've got a lead?"

"No. Knowing who put him there is enough."

"Fine. I'll drop this line of inquiry. The rush fee still applies."

"Deduct it directly."

He tossed his phone onto the pillow and looked up.

A crack ran through the plaster molding on the ceiling, extending all the way to the corner.

He stared at the crack for a while.

Two of the Petri Dish sites had been cleared out. The woodland site in Sagamihara was still untouched. Shiu Kong's intelligence had mentioned that Kusumoto was preparing to move it over the next couple of days.

Once those things were scattered elsewhere, finding them again would take time and effort.

If he wanted to wipe it out, tonight was a window.

But Kusumoto's people would be in Ichikawa that afternoon. Sagamihara was close by.

If he struck tonight, the timing of the trouble at both sites would be too coincidental. Even those old fools at Jujutsu Headquarters would be able to connect the two.

No rushing.

Let them investigate.

They would find nothing in Ichikawa, write a report, submit it, and leave the higher-ups to squabble. That whole bureaucratic process would take two or three days at minimum.

Moving the Sagamihara stock required vehicles, manpower, and cold-chain equipment. Kusumoto was already short-handed, and with a group sent to Ichikawa, the remaining people couldn't possibly organize a relocation on short notice.

For the next two days, the goods in Sagamihara would stay right where they were.

Yang Jian rolled over and leaned back against the wall. His phone chimed.

In the group chat, Satoru Gojo was rounding people up.

"@everyone The cafeteria has a new curry udon. Who's coming?"

Suguru Geto: "On a mission."

Shoko: "Sleeping."

Yang Jian ignored it.

Immediately afterward, Satoru Gojo tagged him specifically. "Yang Jian, quit playing dead. The six eyes saw you online."

Yang Jian replied with two words: "Not free."

"What the hell keeps you so busy all day?"

"Balancing accounts."

Satoru Gojo sent a sighing reaction image-a selfie of himself with added effects and two circles drawn over his eyes.

With a swipe of his finger, Yang Jian muted the notifications.

He closed his eyes and ran through the terrain map of Sagamihara in his head.

Halfway up the mountain, a cedar grove, a prefab house. Two underground levels, connected to three industrial air-conditioning units outside. Yellow talismans stuck to the rolling shutter.

He had slipped inside a few days earlier to scout it out. Two Grade 3 Sorcerers guarded the place, rotating every twelve hours.

The key was the three sealed containers behind the mechanical door on the second underground level.

Two finger-shaped objects were most likely Sukuna's Fingers.

The remaining one was a grayish-purple active sample.

He hadn't touched it and didn't know what it was. But if Kusumoto was preparing to run, this thing would definitely be among the first goods loaded onto a truck. The twelve bulky Petri Dishes would be left until last.