Infiltration

Jujutsu High's cursed object warehouse was hidden deep in the mountain behind the school. Only a pair of iron doors stood aboveground; everything else was buried beneath layers of earth and barriers.

The administrator responsible for night patrols was named Yamada. He was fifty-two and had worked at Jujutsu High for seventeen years.

He was not a jujutsu sorcerer, merely a trainee assistant supervisor who could see cursed spirits. In his youth, he had dreamed of taking up a blade and exorcising them.

Later, he had recognized the limits of his talent and quietly settled into guarding the warehouse.

"It really is quiet today."

Yamada looked away from the surveillance feed and, through the thick bulletproof glass, gazed at the deserted sports field in the distance.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Today's the Goodwill Event with the Kyoto school. Looks like my memory's getting worse with age."

Yamada patted his forehead, realization dawning on his face.

Beep, beep, beep, beep-

The alarm for his midday patrol sounded right on schedule.

"Time for patrol. Once I finish up, I'll have myself a nice afternoon nap."

"Oh, right. I promised my wife I'd come home early tonight. She said she had some kind of surprise for me. I can't wait."

Remembering how his wife had smiled as she saw him off that morning, Yamada could not keep a smile from tugging at his lips.

He reached out to silence the alarm, then stood and stretched his back.

Then he went outside and headed toward the cursed object warehouse.

Yamada always handled the patrols. Making a complete circuit of the warehouse was a bit of a chore, but at least it was safe.

After all, this was Jujutsu High's territory. There was no way those dangerous cursed spirits could ever get in here.

"Huh? Why does it feel colder all of a sudden?"

Not long after stepping outside, Yamada tucked his fingers inside his collar.

The forecast had said temperatures would drop today, but it should not have been this cold yet.

Sensing something was wrong, Yamada stopped and looked warily around.

"If any cursed objects react, the main monitoring room will notify you. All you need to do is check the door locks and barrier nodes."

That was what a senior colleague had told Yamada on his first day.

And experience had proved his colleague right.

After all, nothing had happened here in seventeen years.

"Maybe I'm overthinking it. This is Jujutsu High. What could possibly happen?"

Yamada chuckled at himself, shook his head, and continued walking.

"Working here all alone must be hard."

Just then, a curious voice suddenly sounded behind Yamada.

It sounded almost like a greeting, but also as though the speaker were talking to himself.

The instant he heard it, Yamada froze. Stiff as a puppet, he slowly turned around.

Less than five paces away stood someone whose entire body was covered in stitches.

The stitches on his face stretched from the corner of his mouth to his ear, then crossed the bridge of his nose from his brow, as though mismatched features had been forcibly sewn together.

The stitches continued downward, covering his entire body.

"Y-you... who are you!?"

Yamada took a step back, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

He had spent seventeen years at this school and seen plenty of cursed residue left by cursed spirits, but he had never faced something like this at such close range.

A single look at that malice made his body shake uncontrollably.

Mahito did not answer Yamada's question. Instead, he lifted his foot and took a step forward.

That one light step brought him before Yamada at a speed the man could not comprehend.

The next second, Mahito extended a finger and pressed its tip against his forehead.

"Don't be scared. It'll be over soon."

In that instant, Yamada's body locked up.

Then it twisted and swelled. In just one second, he became a malformed monster with contorted limbs.

"Boring."

Mahito shook his head and reached into Yamada's shirt pocket.

He soon pulled out an access card.

"What a dull place. I might as well grab the stuff and leave."

Mahito gave his head a shake, then headed toward the warehouse doors.

The cursed object warehouse was buried deep in the mountain behind the school, with only its iron doors aboveground. It did not take Mahito long to reach them.

"This... should be how it works, right?"

Mahito toyed with the access card, then held it against the reader on the iron doors.

Beyond the doors lay a passage leading downward, with a constantly glowing cursed energy lamp set into the wall every five paces.

The light stretched Mahito's shadow out behind his feet.

Mahito made no attempt to hide his presence.

His footsteps echoed evenly over the concrete floor. Now and then, he turned to inspect either side, as leisurely as if he were browsing a museum.

"Sukuna's Fingers..." Mahito's gaze swept back and forth over the doors on either side.

Soon, his eyes lit up. "Found them!"

It was an unnumbered room, but its door was painted a distinctly different color from the others.

Red!

Beep!

Mahito swiped the card again, then quickly stepped inside.

The room beyond the door was not particularly large. Wooden compartments used for sealing were set into three of its walls.

In the third row from the top on the left sat six dark purple fingers, each wrapped three times in talisman paper.

The fingers varied in thickness and length. Their only shared features were sharp nails and twisted joints, as though they had been burned in a great fire and buried in its ashes for a long time.

"Sukuna's Fingers." Mahito picked one up and hefted it in his palm.

"Geto said the cursed energy left inside was enough to draw in a whole swarm of cursed spirits. Still..."

Mahito slipped the finger into his pocket and walked over to the compartments on the right.

Nine glass jars of varying sizes stood neatly in a row before him.

Under the cold light of the cursed energy lamps, their contents appeared in differing shades of dark red.

Some already showed faintly human outlines, while others were nothing more than curled-up masses of shadow.

"The Death Painting Wombs... About time you got some fresh air."

Mahito smiled, then flicked a finger against one of the jars, producing a short, crisp clink.

With that, he took the glass jars out of the sealing cabinet one by one, his movements unhurried.

Before taking each one, he checked its label, as though filling a prescription at a pharmacy.

But the next second, his hand stopped.

At the same time, the cursed energy lamps throughout the room began

flickering on and off.

"Looks like Rihito's concerns really were justified."

At those words, Mahito went rigid for a second, then slowly turned his head.

Satoru Gojo stood in the doorway of the storeroom.

His hands were tucked into his pockets, and his ever-present black blindfold covered the upper half of his face. His slightly long white hair looked almost glaring under the flickering lights.

"Good evening." Satoru Gojo sounded as relaxed as ever.

Mahito set the glass jar on a nearby table and turned to face him.

"Satoru Gojo, huh?" As he spoke the name, the smile on his face did not fade. Instead, it grew wider.

"If I turned you into a toy, would you be more fun than little Rihito?"

"Oh?" Satoru Gojo tilted his head, then chuckled softly. "Come and try!"