On the way.
"A custom-made special grade cursed tool."
"You're getting more and more mysterious."
Wangchuan turned his head and glanced at him.
"Am I?"
He turned back and kept walking.
"But a little mystery is a good thing, isn't it?"
Nanami did not answer immediately. He turned those words over in his mind several times, but ultimately found no way to argue against them.
Indeed.
People who were too easy to see through often did not live long in this world.
And Wangchuan...
He glanced at the man beside him.
He was the kind he could not see through at all.
Nanami withdrew his gaze and asked another question.
"Is that cursed tool of Inumaki's really as powerful as you said?"
At that, Wangchuan kept walking, but the curve of his lips deepened a fraction.
"That cursed tool..."
"It's actually even more powerful than I said."
Nanami's gaze shifted slightly.
"There's actually a trump card built into it that I didn't spell out for Inumaki."
Wangchuan turned his head and glanced at Nanami.
"It's pretty impressive."
Kento Nanami's steps faltered for an instant.
Something Wangchuan himself called impressive...
This man's standards were absurdly high to begin with.
Back when he had exorcised a special grade cursed spirit, Wangchuan's assessment had been "not bad."
Then just what level of trump card did this "pretty impressive" cursed tool have?
His curiosity was piqued.
But he did not press further.
Because he had heard an undertone in Wangchuan's voice that said he had already shared more than enough.
If he kept asking, that guy would probably brush him off with something like, "If you want to know, you can see for yourself sometime."
Nanami suppressed that thought and changed the subject.
When he spoke, his voice was a little quieter than before, carrying a barely perceptible caution, as though he were trying to confirm something.
"By the way."
"That thing you mentioned before..."
Wangchuan kept walking without breaking stride.
His gaze fell on the tightly shut meeting room door at the end of the corridor, and he answered quickly, as though he had long expected the question.
"Yeah."
"The magic itself is ready."
Kento Nanami stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor.
His eyes widened for an instant.
It was an exceedingly rare expression, one that showed unmistakable excitement. He parted his lips, his voice unsteady and a little rushed despite his effort to keep it under control.
"Then..."
Wangchuan interrupted him by extending a hand.
Without turning around, Wangchuan merely raised his palm in a gesture for him to wait.
"But."
He stopped and turned sideways to glance at Nanami.
The sunset fell across his face, softening the curve of his lips.
"Whether it'll work isn't up to me."
"It's up to him."
Kento Nanami stood where he was, watching Wangchuan turn and walk toward the meeting room door at the end of the corridor.
Wangchuan pushed the door open and slipped inside, turning his head to nod at Nanami before it closed.
"We'll talk in a bit."
The door closed gently behind him with the dull sound of wood meeting wood.
Kento Nanami stood alone in the corridor.
The sunset slanted through the windows, spreading a warm orange band of light at his feet. His shadow stretched long across the opposite wall, motionless.
He stood like that for a long time, as though digesting the information in those few sentences.
"It's up to him, huh."
"Haibara..."
Inside.
Masamichi Yaga sat alone.
Nine transparent glass jars stood on the coffee table before him.
A tiny embryo floated in each jar, curled up like a hatchling still inside its shell.
Wangchuan offered a casual greeting.
"Hey, Principal Yaga."
Then he plopped down on the sofa opposite Yaga.
The vertical crease between Masamichi Yaga's brows twitched at the sight of his sitting posture.
"Just like Gojo."
"Not a serious bone in your body."
Wangchuan's lips curved slightly in acknowledgment.
His gaze did not linger on Yaga's face, instead drifting naturally down to the nine glass jars on the coffee table.
He reached out, picked up one of the jars on the left, and held it up before his eyes to examine it in the light.
The embryo inside was curled into a tiny ball, its surface covered by a thin, translucent membrane through which the outlines within were faintly visible.
He rotated the jar, letting the light shine through from different angles, as though admiring an exquisite piece of craftsmanship.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk..."
He set the jar down, picked up another, turned it around, and put it down again. After examining three or four in succession, he finally returned the jar to its original spot and leaned gently back into the sofa.
"The legendary Cursed Womb: Death Paintings."
"They look so scary."
The corner of Masamichi Yaga's mouth twitched slightly.
Is there any difference between special grade and grade 4 to you?
He did not say it aloud, but his expression conveyed it clearly enough. He had seen Wangchuan in action.
That clean, decisive, utterly effortless domination.
Although the Death Painting Wombs were classified as special grade cursed objects, to the man before him...
He probably really could not tell the difference between special grade and grade 4.
Wangchuan placed the jar back on the coffee table, then reached into his coat's inner pocket and took out a small bundle wrapped in talisman cloth.
"Here."
"Sukuna's Finger."
Without even looking, he casually tossed it toward Yaga.
Yaga instinctively raised a hand to catch it.
He checked the condition of the finger inside.
Then he tucked the little bundle into his clothes with swift, practiced movements.
"The deal's done."
Wangchuan leaned back into the sofa, resting both hands behind his head, his posture even more relaxed than before.
After putting the finger away, Masamichi Yaga fell silent for a moment.
"What are you planning to do with them?"
Wangchuan tilted his head toward him, his eyes curving slightly.
"Didn't I already tell you?"
"Run a little experiment."
Masamichi Yaga's brow furrowed a little more tightly.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but Wangchuan spoke before he could.
"Don't worry. Even if something goes wrong..."
"I'll clean it up."
Masamichi Yaga watched his utterly unconcerned manner in silence for several seconds, then let out a long sigh.
He leaned back into the sofa, making a faint sound as his back met the backrest.
He looked as though he had relinquished some stance he had been holding to.
"You two..."
He shook his head, his tone carrying that mixture of resignation and familiarity.
"You and Satoru Gojo always do whatever you want."
"You call it a deal, but your way of making one-telling the higher-ups you'll just take them by force if they refuse-is far too arrogant."
"Those higher-ups won't let this go."
"They'll try every possible way to..."
Wangchuan waved a hand, cutting Masamichi Yaga off without even sitting up straight.
"Hahaha, it's fine."
"Those old geezers in the Jujutsu Higher-Ups? You think I don't know them?"
He lowered the hands resting behind his head and gestured in the air.
"If you don't put a little pressure on them, they won't agree to anything."
"The more polite you are, the more they push you around."
"Put a knife right to their throats, and they'll agree to anything instead."
"After all these years, they're still stuck in their rotten old ways."
Masamichi Yaga looked at him and opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately said nothing.
Because he knew Wangchuan was telling the truth.
He knew those higher-ups.
He understood how those people operated better than anyone.
And Wangchuan, a man who had seen through the rules of that game and had absolutely no intention of playing by them, did indeed have his own way of surviving.
Masamichi Yaga was silent for a while, then exhaled softly, as though abandoning any intention of trying to persuade him further.
He picked up the cup of half-cooled black tea on the coffee table, took a sip, and set it down, his gaze settling on the nine glass jars.
"...At least don't make it too ugly."
Wangchuan smiled.
"Don't worry. When I do things..."
"I always know where to draw the line."
Before you continue