That senior and I had graduated from the same Jujutsu High. Later, he left us because of our differing ideals. When I first heard about it, I felt much the same way: as though it was only natural, yet also unexpected. I did not even know whether to grieve or feel relieved.
That senior had no family left, and his remains had not been successfully recovered. I did not even know where to go to mourn him.
That senior was like snow that had failed to last until spring, melting into water and remaining in the depths of winter. Perhaps, before long, I would end up the same way.
Occasionally, thoughts like that surfaced.
Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer was a high-risk occupation. We either rushed toward death unprepared or received news of a companion's death unprepared. I had once been deeply afraid of such work, so I ran away from Jujutsu High.
Not long after leaving Jujutsu High, I started working at a Stock Exchange, doing tedious, monotonous work.
My boss was an idiot who did not understand how to maintain social boundaries, yet had a natural talent for making employees' lives difficult and deceiving customers.
Every morning, while waiting for the train, I hastily swallowed the bread I had bought at a convenience store, then followed
the crowds on and off the train, panting like a canned sardine.
Work, business dinners, socializing-that was an ordinary office worker's (my) daily life.
Sometimes, when I came home from work and looked at the empty, dark room, I could not tell whether a day had passed or a year.
That was how it should have been.
Until one day, I noticed more and more hair falling onto my pillow. (I can't change the earlier part anymore; that typo about heads falling off was too embarrassing.)
Until one day, the bread I always bought disappeared from the convenience store shelves. Until one day, I pressed the light switch, but the light did not come on as usual.
Until those ordinary, tiny moments of despair kept piling up and crushed me, until I could no longer pretend not to see them, I ran away again.
I resigned from the company where I had worked for four years, then contacted Mr. Gojo. Before long, I returned to Jujutsu High and took up that high-risk work again. Mr. Gojo was also the one who told me about that senior's death.
"Nanami, I killed Geto."
Over the phone, Mr. Gojo's voice was as faint as a sigh, so much so that I briefly thought I had misheard him. But before I could confirm it, my senior Gojo spoke again. "I lost him."
"Suguru Geto's body is missing?" I concluded.
"Yeah." My senior Gojo gave a vague reply and said nothing more for a long time, but he did not hang up either.
"Mr. Gojo, then please take responsibility and bring our senior Geto back. Bringing back our companions' bodies-isn't that the responsibility of those of us who survived?"
In truth, I did not know what Mr. Gojo was thinking, nor could I understand why my senior Geto had left Jujutsu High. Still less could I figure out why things had turned out this way.
But if my senior needed someone to give him a reasonable excuse, I supposed I could be that person. "Nanami, you really are as dependable as ever," Mr. Gojo said with a laugh.
Mr. Gojo and I talked a little more about our days at Jujutsu High, although it was mostly him talking about things he personally found amusing. It was in that strange atmosphere that I learned of my senior Geto's death.
By unspoken agreement, we skirted around a certain period of time, mourning a dead classmate, partner, senior, companion, and dearest friend through idle conversation.
Sometimes, I felt that even if I accidentally died, it would be all right. After all, Mr. Gojo would surely wake someone who knew me with a nuisance call in the middle of the night, talking and laughing as he sang the praises of my life.
That sort of trust, at least, was something I could place in Mr. Gojo. Halloween this year was not very peaceful.
On Halloween night, a Curtain appeared in Shibuya, trapping ordinary people inside and demanding that Satoru Gojo be handed over. The higher-ups ordered all Jujutsu Sorcerers other than Satoru Gojo to stand by outside the Curtain to minimize losses.
But once again, I failed to follow orders, especially after seeing the misfortune that had befallen my juniors. I could neither live bearing other people's lives nor turn a blind eye to things like curses.
In the summer of my second year, I lost my only classmate, my only partner, and my only dearest friend. I was left alone to drift through the rest of my time at Jujutsu High until graduation.
A Japanese snowbell grew by the entrance to Jujutsu High. It did not grow well. Its overly slender branches could not supply the nutrients needed for flowering, and its blossoms always began to wither before they fully opened.
As the flames burned me, for some reason I thought of that tree. It was as though I had returned to the day I enrolled, with my dearest friend, whom I had yet to meet, standing beneath it and gazing up at the sparse flecks of cherry pink, his expression gentle.
In my memories, Haibara was almost always smiling, and even I would unconsciously smile along with him. My thoughts wandered from trivial moments at Jujutsu High to the city where I would settle down in the future, and before I knew it, I had gone down another level. Then, when I saw those Transfigured Humans, I suddenly remembered that I still had unfinished work.
No, I came to rescue Fushiguro...
Right, what about Maki and Mr. Nao€€bito? How were they doing now? At that thought, I started moving again.
Exhausted... so exhausted... truly exhausted. I had already done everything I could.
Haibara, could I rest for a while?
The Cursed Spirit I had fought before walked over and put his hand inside my body. Haibara, in the end, what exactly had I wanted to do?
I had already run away, yet I came back of my own accord for something as vague as "meaning in life." Haibara, could I-the person you gave your life to save-stop here?
"Nanamiii!!"
I looked in the direction my seventeen-year-old dearest friend was pointing. It was Itadori.
No, Haibara. If I said those words to him, they would become a curse placed upon him. So exhausted...
Haibara, could I come over to your side now? Haibara, why weren't you smiling?
Smile. Smile. After all, I had made such a great joke out of my own life. "Itadori, I'll leave the rest to you."
Sorry, Itadori. In the end, I still cursed you. So exhausted...
Have a good sleep. Good night, Nanami. 000000
This was Nanami's fate in the manga, which was why I wanted to make up for those regrets properly in this novel. This novel also carried my wishes for some of the characters.
I hoped they could have a happy ending in my novel. All I could do was work hard to improve and make progress.
As for other character-focused pieces, if everyone liked them, I would put them in the related works section. Finally.
The thing that reflected a book's performance was its paid subscriptions.
I hoped everyone could subscribe and support this humble author. All right, I would spare you any more unnecessary words.
I hoped everyone would give this book plenty of support after it went premium and purchase the first paid chapter for this little author. As long as there were 200 subscriptions, as long as writing didn't kill me, I would write myself to death.
I didn't want to abandon another book and become a eunuch. Sob, sob, sob.
After going premium, I would guarantee at least 8,000 Chinese characters a day, in three long chapters.
If the results were good, I would occasionally release extra chapters in bursts. Thank you all for your company and support! Lastly!
I wanted to thank my editor, City Lord.
Also, I was very grateful to the readers who had stayed with me through this most difficult period. Your feedback and company were what had kept me going.
Here, I bowed! Thank you for being with me.
Chapter 68: A Day Trip to Hell (Please buy the first paid chapter)
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The vulture that the Slime Cursed Spirit had transformed into bared his sharp talons.
Sickly green Cursed Energy coiled around his talons, carrying a faint, elusive stench. Without a doubt.
If those talons landed a swipe.
Neither the sharpness of the talons themselves nor the deadly poison they carried would leave the enemy they struck feeling particularly good.
At that moment, the Slime Cursed Spirit sensed danger approaching from below. It was an instinctive warning, an almost beastlike intuition. Reflexively.
The vulture that the Slime Cursed Spirit had transformed into beat his wings, climbing as fast as he could. But the next second, Chingetsu appeared above him.
"Answer me. Who gave you permission to look down on me, scum?" Chingetsu's voice was cold, without a trace of emotion.
At that moment, he was like an incarnation of the sovereign of death, passing judgment on the Cursed Spirit's fate. Naturally, the Slime Cursed Spirit could not answer Chingetsu's question.
He vented the savagery and faint unease in his heart through his actions.
His sharp talons raked viciously toward Chingetsu's chest, moving so fast that they almost left afterimages. "It looks like Sukuna's presence has interfered with you so much that you've lost every last shred of judgment."
Chingetsu activated his Stand, Bites the Dust, again, erasing the space between himself and the Slime Cursed Spirit. Since the other party was so incapable of appreciating what was good for him.
He did not mind playing with him for a while.
Planting one foot on the back of the vulture that the Slime Cursed Spirit had transformed into, Chingetsu exerted a little force with both hands.
He tore both of the vulture's wings straight off. "!"
The Slime Cursed Spirit shrieked in pain and fell helplessly onto the top of the machine. He possessed a certain degree of intelligence.
But that little bit of intelligence.
Was not enough for him to work out how Chingetsu had suddenly appeared on his back, or how he had torn off his wings.
So.
The Slime Cursed Spirit grew increasingly enraged.
The lure of Sukuna's Finger, combined with his hatred for the boy before him, completely drew out the cruelty and savagery inherent in the Slime Cursed Spirit's nature. "Screee!"
Buds of flesh writhed at the wounds where the Slime Cursed Spirit's wings had been torn off.
In less than three seconds, the Slime Cursed Spirit had finished repairing his body. "Tsk, not bad. Your wings have already grown back."
"The only praiseworthy thing about Cursed Spirits is how quickly they heal their bodies with Cursed Energy." Chingetsu's ghostlike figure appeared beside the Slime Cursed Spirit.
To the Slime Cursed Spirit, that demonic murmur was no different from a thunderclap. It had happened again!
From the very beginning, he had been unable to track Chingetsu's movements. He did not even know when the other party launched his attacks.
Slime could not help feeling somewhat terrified.
This white-haired boy was faster than him, and his methods were even crueler than his own.
If the boy had not lacked Cursed Energy, he would almost have suspected that he was a Special Grade Cursed Spirit wearing human skin. "Now you know fear?"
Before you continue