All he had to do was wait

Yang Jian lay with his eyes closed for about ten minutes, finishing the calculations in his head.

He rolled over and sat up, retrieved the can of cola he had knocked askew at the foot of the bed, and shook it. Less than half a mouthful remained, and it was warm.

He tipped his head back and drained it, then tossed the aluminum can into the trash with a crisp clatter.

He took out his phone, lit up the screen, and opened his chat with Shiu Kong.

"Has the guard changeover time in Sagamihara changed?"

Shiu Kong replied quickly. "No, still twelve-hour shifts, changing at four in the morning and four in the afternoon. But Kusumoto sent a refrigerated truck there yesterday, registered under a food company. I've sent you the plate number."

An image came through.

Yang Jian opened it, took a look, and closed it.

"When did the refrigerated truck arrive?"

"It went into the mountains at six yesterday evening. It still hadn't come out this morning."

Yang Jian set down his phone, picked up the bottle of oolong tea on the table, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip. Warm, with hardly any flavor.

The truck had gone in and not come out, so the transfer hadn't started yet.

Kusumoto's people would arrive in Tokyo at noon today and head to Ichikawa for another inspection first. Tomorrow was the earliest they could free themselves up to deal with Sagamihara.

But the refrigerated truck was already in position, and the transfer was on the schedule. All it lacked was an order to begin.

Those three sealed containers were what mattered. Two suspected Sukuna's Fingers and one active specimen.

The petri dishes were the mass-production line. The containers were Kusumoto's real lifeline.

Yang Jian screwed the cap back onto the oolong tea.

No rush.

Kusumoto's people would go to Ichikawa and find a site so clean it was unnatural. The petri dishes were gone, the guards' memories were blank, and the surveillance footage held only 0.3 seconds of red light. They wouldn't even find a handful of dust.

However precise Kagekatsu Uesugi's trace-tracking technique was, he couldn't reconstruct clues out of a vacuum.

That Kyoto sorcerer whose information was encrypted was a variable, but a variable wasn't necessarily a threat.

Yang Jian stood and walked to the window.

His phone vibrated again.

Satoru Gojo had sent him a private message.

"Latest intel: Kusumoto's people have sped things up. They'll reach Tokyo Station at eleven."

Yang Jian typed, "Got it."

Satoru Gojo sent another message. "Still can't get to the bottom of that sorcerer from Kyoto. These Six Eyes never mind a little extra drama."

Yang Jian tossed his phone back onto the bed.

He could keep the fingers for his own use. He needed to confirm what the active specimen was.

If the active specimen was one of Kenjaku's experiments, he would destroy it outright. If it was a cursed object related to Sukuna, he would take it along.

In Shiu Kong's chat: Kusumoto's people would go to Ichikawa this afternoon, write their report and hold a meeting tomorrow, and start the Sagamihara transfer the day after at the earliest. Though the refrigerated truck had arrived, the guards wouldn't dare act without Kusumoto's orders.

The phone vibrated again on his pillow.

The group chat popped up.

Satoru Gojo: "@everyone Yang Jian, are you having curry udon or not? The cafeteria lady says there's a limited supply today. If you're late, there won't even be any broth left."

Shoko: "If he's not answering, he's not eating. Stop making noise."

Satoru Gojo: "Maybe he died in his dorm."

Yang Jian: "Not dead. Not eating."

Satoru Gojo: "Then what are you having for lunch? Photosynthesis?"

Yang Jian: "Cola."

Shoko sent an eye-roll emoji.

Satoru Gojo: "I bet you'll spend the rest of your damn life soaking in a cola can."

Yang Jian dismissed the chat.

The terrain map of Sagamihara unfolded in his mind. Cedar woods, a prefab house, two underground floors.

Three industrial air-conditioning units outside. A temperature-controlled area of at least three hundred square meters.

Kusumoto's yellow talisman was stuck to the roller shutter. A detection-type cursed technique that would send a signal on contact.

When the time came, he could enter directly through his ghost domain and cut out those few hours of the guards' memories.

The active specimen was the key.

Last time, he hadn't touched that container. Through its outer wall, he had only seen a grayish-purple writhing mass. If that thing had a mind of its own, opening the lid might trigger some kind of reaction.

Take it away, or destroy it on the spot?

Yang Jian opened his eyes.

Destroy it.

Keeping something unknown around would only leave a hidden danger.

Better to end it now than risk bringing it back.

He rolled over to face the wall.

There was nothing on it. The whitewash was evenly applied.

A few minutes later, he rolled back over and picked up his phone to check the time.

Ten seventeen in the morning.

Those people were still sitting on the Shinkansen.

Yang Jian got up, slipped on his shoes, and went out.

The corridor was deserted.

The corridor was deserted.

He went downstairs, crossed the connecting walkway, and stopped in front of the vending machine.

He put in a coin and pressed a button.

A red can of cola dropped out. This time, the machine didn't jam.

He pulled the tab, releasing a wisp of cold air. Leaning against the vending machine, he drank slowly.

He crushed the aluminum can and tossed it into the recycling bin.

Shoko walked over from the medical building, her hands tucked into her white coat pockets and an unlit cigarette between her lips.

"What are you standing here for?" Shoko asked.

"Drinking cola."

"And you're still standing here after finishing it?"

"Waiting for it to spit out the next can."

Shoko couldn't be bothered to respond to that nonsense. She searched every pocket of her white coat but couldn't find a lighter.

Yang Jian took a plastic lighter from his trouser pocket and handed it over.

Shoko took it, lit her cigarette, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled a pale cloud of smoke.

"Your blood pressure's been off lately."

"How low?"

"Diastolic's fifty-eight. Anyone else would already be in intensive care fighting for their life."

"I'm not normal."

"True." Shoko didn't argue.

She returned the lighter to Yang Jian and turned toward the medical building, then stopped after a few steps.

"You know Kusumoto's people are coming to Tokyo today, right?"

"I know."

"If they come looking for trouble-"

"They won't. They can't even catch a glimpse of my shadow."

Shoko nodded without saying anything else and ambled away.

Yang Jian put the lighter back in his pocket. He had picked it up at a convenience store last time, an orange-red, one-yuan cheapie with a tiny flame.

He stood there for another two minutes, then turned and headed back to his dorm.

In the distance, he saw Suguru Geto's car drive out through the school gates.

Suguru Geto alone was more than enough to handle the Grade 2 Cursed Spirit mission in Chiba.

Yang Jian returned to his dorm and shut the door.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled the chopping knife wrapped in black cloth from between the layers of the mattress and laid it across his knees.

He unwrapped the cloth. The rust-speckled blade gleamed a dark red under the fluorescent light.

He ran his thumb along the edge.

Dull.

But this knife had never needed to be sharp.

He wrapped it tightly in the black cloth again and slipped it back into place.

Sleep tonight. Same as usual tomorrow.

The day after.

Wait for Kusumoto's people to find nothing in Ichikawa, finish their report full of drivel, and get through their boring review meeting.

Then they would turn their attention back to Sagamihara and prepare to begin the transfer.

And before that transfer began, Yang Jian would clear all three containers out of the second basement level.

He lay down with his hands behind his head.

The crack in the ceiling lay there quietly, stretching from the light fixture to the corner of the wall like a dried-up riverbed.

Yang Jian closed his eyes.

All he needed to do was wait.