In an instant.
Maki Zenin's knees gave out first, buckling until one slammed heavily into the ground.
The hand bracing her bamboo sword trembled slightly. Sweat dripped from her chin, spreading into tiny dark spots in the dirt.
Panda was hardly any better off. His round body was nearly flat on the ground.
Only Yuta Okkotsu seemed a little excited. "This feels pretty good."
"So... heavy..." Panda squeezed the words from deep in his throat.
"How... how many... times normal gravity is this...?"
Maki Zenin gritted her teeth and barely managed to raise her head to look at the languid figure in the stands.
Wangchuan sat on a step, propping his chin on one hand. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he watched the three of them struggle.
"Hm?"
"It's only ten times normal gravity. Is it really that bad?"
With that, he stopped paying attention to the three of them and turned to Toge Inumaki beside him.
Inumaki sat quietly next to him, his hands braced on the edge of the step, his legs swinging slightly.
His gaze had been following the three people under gravity suppression out on the field.
Now, sensing Wangchuan turn his gaze toward him, he tilted his head slightly too, looking at him with quiet eyes.
"Inumaki."
"Salmon roe?" Inumaki tilted his head.
He responded in that distinctive voice of his, its meaning compressed into its intonation, with a hint of confusion that asked, "What is it?"
Wangchuan reached into his pocket and took something out.
It was a fitted, silver-gray matte metal mask, made of a material that looked very light.
Its design extended down from the bridge of the nose to cover the jawline, with edges that fit so closely it looked custom-made for someone.
Wangchuan turned the mask around in his hand so Inumaki could see it more clearly, then spoke.
There was a note of showing off in his voice.
"Here."
"A Special Grade Cursed Tool I custom-made just for you."
Inumaki blinked. His gaze lingered on the mask for a moment before lifting to Wangchuan again, carrying a touch of obvious confusion.
Wangchuan continued, his tone easy, as though giving an introduction.
"It's called the Harmony Box."
"It's pretty amazing."
He flipped the mask over and pointed at the fine patterns on its lining, as though demonstrating the construction of a precision instrument.
"It has two modes. Enough for your everyday needs."
"First, Daily Mode."
"Once you put it on, you can speak normally."
"The mask instantly checks the ordinary words you say for cursed energy commands."
"If it's cursed speech, it automatically seals it. If it's everyday conversation, it lets it through."
He paused. Watching Inumaki's eyes brighten slightly, his smile deepened.
"In other words, from now on, you can say whatever you want without worrying about hurting anyone."
Inumaki's pupils suddenly contracted.
His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something, then closed again.
His hand lifted unconsciously, as though reaching to touch the mask, only to stop in midair.
Wangchuan did not stop. He continued.
"Second, Cursed Speech Mode."
"When you need to use cursed speech, this mode boosts its power to-to 150%-200% of its original power."
"And."
He turned the mask around, pointing at the dark patterns on its surface.
"These patterns form a counterflow damping structure."
"It absorbs 70%-80% of the backlash from cursed speech, converts it into heat, and dissipates it through the surface."
"It won't hurt you."
With that, he held the mask a little closer to Inumaki.
Inumaki looked at the silver-gray mask right before him. He could even smell the extremely faint scent on its metal surface, the sort that seemed unique to a newly made cursed tool.
His eyes grew wider and wider.
This cursed tool... was incredible.
So incredible it hardly felt real.
He could speak normally now. He could chat with other people.
He would no longer have to express his thoughts with those few limited words every day.
What he liked, what he disliked, what he wanted to say, what he ought to say-he could say all of it.
And it did more than let him speak.
There was amplification, too.
And cushioning against backlash. And structural designs so intricate they left him speechless.
He took a deep breath and finally spoke, his voice carrying an obvious tremor as he struggled to contain his excitement.
"Sal... mon roe..." The word carried a complex, altered intonation, as though he were saying, "This is just incredible."
But he did not take it.
He looked down at his hands, then at the mask in Wangchuan's hand, hesitating for a while.
His fingers flexed slightly, as though he were wrestling with something internally.
He knew the value of a Special Grade Cursed Tool.
Even the cheapest Special Grade Cursed Tools on the market cost over a hundred million.
And the one in Wangchuan's hand...
Judging by its functions, its complexity, and the way it seemed almost tailor-made for him, it was worth far more than that.
He raised his head to look at Wangchuan. His lips moved, his voice carrying a mixture of hesitation and embarrassment.
As though saying.
"Teacher Wangchuan... this..."
Wangchuan saw his hesitation.
Without saying anything more, he simply reached out and pushed the mask straight into Inumaki's hands.
The movement was crisp and decisive.
"Take it."
His voice held a rare gentleness, a tone unlike his usual one.
"Think of it as a first-meeting gift from a teacher to his student."
Inumaki cradled the mask, his fingertips touching the cool metal surface, the pads of his fingers sliding gently along the edges of those intricate patterns.
He looked down at it for a while, then raised his head to look at Wangchuan. His lips moved, but in the end he only managed to squeeze out one word.
"Raw salmon roe."
Its intonation held a tremor only he understood, the kind that came after something soft struck him inside.
Wangchuan smiled at the sight of him, then reached out and patted the top of his head.
"All right."
Then he added something, mentioning it casually as though explaining.
"Don't make too much of it."
"While I was making Mei Mei's cursed tool, I suddenly thought of the problem with your cursed technique. That dog language you speak is too hard for your teacher to understand, so I made this while I was at it."
At the words "dog language," the corner of Inumaki's eye twitched, as though he wanted to object but could not get it out.
Wangchuan went on.
"Though I did promise Gojo I'd custom-make one for him before."
Wangchuan shrugged, perfectly untroubled. "I haven't figured out what to make for him yet, so I've left that on hold."
Just then, a voice came from higher up in the stands.
"No charge?"
Wangchuan and Inumaki both looked up.
Kento Nanami stood on a step above them in the stands, his hands in his trouser pockets, his suit as crisp as ever and his tie meticulously knotted.
He tilted his head slightly as he looked at Wangchuan, his expression thoughtful, as though confirming something.
"Wangchuan, this isn't like you."
Wangchuan looked at him for two seconds, then his lips curved.
"Really?"
He leaned back against the steps, bracing both hands behind him, his posture relaxed and his tone nonchalant, as though responding to an offhand joke.
"Do you see me as someone who only cares about money?"
"Nanami."
Kento Nanami did not answer immediately.
He stood quietly on the step, looking at Wangchuan's smiling face and giving the question serious thought.
He had not had much contact with Wangchuan, but he had seen him in action and heard Satoru Gojo's assessment of him.
That assessment.
Though it bore Satoru Gojo's usual exaggeration, there was one line Nanami found quite accurate.
"On the surface, he seems extremely eager for money, but in truth, he follows his whims in everything and does whatever he wants."
Kento Nanami fell silent for two seconds, then spoke.
"I don't know."
He was telling the truth.
He truly did not know just how many sides there were to Wangchuan.
He was too complicated.
The logic behind that man's actions sometimes resembled an actuary's, sometimes a madman's, and sometimes...
Like right now, casually making a Special Grade Cursed Tool and giving it to a student for free without so much as blinking.
Kento Nanami stopped dwelling on the question.
He conveyed what he had come for.
"Principal Yaga wants to see you."
"Me?"
At that, Wangchuan rose from the step and brushed the dust from his trousers.
He turned to glance at Inumaki, who was looking down at the mask in his hands.
Wangchuan reached out and patted his head again.
"Put it on."
Then he turned and walked toward Kento Nanami.
Inumaki remained seated, watching Wangchuan's retreating figure grow distant along the edge of the stands.
He looked down at the mask in his hands and fell silent for a while.
Then he raised his hands and gently fitted the silver-gray metal mask over his face.
It fit perfectly.
Like a layer of tailor-made skin, with the cool, smooth feel of metal.
He opened his mouth without making a sound, though his lips moved.
He felt the patterns inside the mask light up slightly, as though responding to his movement.
He lowered his hands and, watching Wangchuan disappear around a distant corner, said softly.
"Thank you."
Before you continue