Demanding answers

After that, something happened that I could never forgive.

Mom died.

Killed by a cursed spirit.

Why?

Why did it have to be Mom?

When I came home that day, everything looked normal.

The flats Mom often wore sat on the shoe cabinet in the entryway. The smell of stew drifted from the kitchen, and the evening news played quietly on the television.

Then I saw the blood on the living room floor.

One drop, two drops, leading from the entryway deeper into the living room. Dark red, painfully conspicuous against the floor.

My breathing stopped.

My heart slammed wildly against my chest, as if it would shatter my ribs and leap out.

A shrill ringing filled my ears, drowning out the television, drowning out my own breathing, drowning out everything.

I followed the blood.

One step, two steps.

My feet felt filled with lead, each step so heavy I could barely lift them.

When I reached the center of the living room, I saw her.

Mom lay on the floor, her body twisted into an unnatural position.

Her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, but her pupils were already unfocused.

A ring of deep, purplish strangulation marks encircled her neck, as if something coarse had wound tightly around it.

Her chest... had a hole in it.

An irregular hole with ragged edges.

Through it, I could see the floor, the grain of the floorboards, see-

See the emptiness.

Blood flowed from that hole, pooling beneath her.

Dark red and thick, still slowly spreading.

I stood there, watching.

I watched for a long time.

Time seemed to have stopped.

The world lost its sound and color. All that remained was the body before me, slowly growing cold, and that ever-expanding pool of dark red blood.

Then I fell to my knees.

My knees struck the floor with a dull thud, but I felt no pain.

I reached out to touch her. My fingers hovered in midair, trembling, but I didn't dare lower them.

If I touched her, it would really be confirmed.

If I touched her, it would really...

"Mom?"

I heard my own voice, faint and hoarse, as if it came from somewhere far away.

"Mom...?"

No answer.

There would never be an answer again.

I knelt there, staring at her for I didn't know how long.

Until my vision blurred, until broken, animal-like sobs escaped my throat, until tears struck the floor and mingled with the blood.

Why?

Why Mom?

What had she done wrong?

She was just an ordinary woman who liked watching boring television dramas, always put too much salt in her cooking, and had fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

She couldn't quit smoking and always smoked in secret, smiling sheepishly whenever I caught her.

She had said, "Junpei made a friend. That's wonderful." She had said, "Let's invite Itadori over for dinner again next time." She had said...

She had said...

Something blocked my throat. I couldn't breathe.

I opened my mouth wide, trying to draw breath, but all I breathed in was the stench of blood and despair.

Then I heard footsteps.

Light and slow, coming from the entryway.

I raised my head. Tears blurred my vision, and all I could see was an indistinct figure standing in the doorway.

Black hair, the stitches on his body especially conspicuous in the dim light.

Mahito.

He stood there, quietly watching me, watching Mom on the floor, without any expression on his face.

Just... watching.

Then he came over and crouched beside me, resting a hand lightly on my trembling shoulder.

"Junpei." He called my name, his voice soft and calm.

I turned to look at him, tears streaming down my face, unable to speak.

"Calm down," he said, stroking my back with his other hand as if soothing a frightened animal.

"Calm down first. Tell me what happened."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. All I could do was raise a trembling finger and point at Mom on the floor.

Mahito followed my pointing finger, fell silent for a few seconds, then sighed softly.

"I see..." he murmured. Then he stood up and slowly walked around the living room, his gaze sweeping over every corner.

Finally, his eyes settled on the dining table.

The flowers Mom had arranged that morning stood there-a few white lilies in a glass vase.

Beside the vase lay something.

A... finger?

It was something shriveled and covered in strange patterns.

It looked like some kind of dried specimen, or some sinister ritual implement.

Mahito walked over, picked up the finger, and held it before his eyes to examine it closely.

"This is..." he murmured. Then, as if he had understood something, he nodded slightly. "So that's it."

He returned to my side, crouched down again, and held the finger out in front of me.

"Junpei, look at this."

I stared at the finger, my stomach churning.

"What is it?" My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

"This thing is called 'Sukuna,'" Mahito said, his tone calm, as though explaining an ordinary fact.

"It's a Special Grade Cursed Object, something that attracts curses. Curses are drawn to its presence, gathering around it like moths to a flame."

Sukuna?

A cursed object?

It attracts curses?

"Something like this..." I stared at the finger, my throat tightening. "Why was it in my house?"

Mahito set the finger on the floor, folded his hands on his knees, and looked at me.

"There are plenty of curse users who make money by cursing people," he said, a faint trace of mockery in his tone.

"As long as it's interesting and you have the right connections, killing someone with a curse is child's play."

He paused, then added, "Besides, anyone who can get their hands on Sukuna's Finger isn't an ordinary curse user. It's someone with connections, resources, and backing."

Curse users.

Killing with curses.

Mom was... murdered deliberately?

"Do you have any idea who it could be?" Mahito looked at me, his eyes seeming especially deep in the dim light.

"Is there anyone who resents you and your mother? Or... someone with money and time to spare, filthy inside, who enjoys toying with other people's fates?"

I froze.

Someone who resented Mom and me?

Someone with money and time to spare, filthy inside?

A name sprang to mind almost immediately.

Ito Shota.

That bastard at school whose family had money and power, who bullied anyone he disliked and treated other people's suffering as entertainment.

He had bullied me, many times. Back then, I had kept my head down and said nothing.

But now...

Now Mom was dead.

Killed by a cursed spirit.

Something that attracted cursed spirits had appeared in our house.

Shōta's family had money and connections, and knew plenty of "shady" people.

He hated me, had badmouthed Mom, and enjoyed bullying people.

And... that day at the movie theater, after Mahito turned Sato and the others into monsters, Shōta was the only one who escaped unscathed.

Because he hadn't come that day. Was it a coincidence?

Or... did he know something? Did he know I was connected to something "abnormal," so he struck first?

I didn't question what Mahito said.

Because it all made sense.

Because I couldn't think of anyone besides Shōta who would do something like this.

Because... I needed someone to hate.

Someone I could pour all my pain, anger, and despair onto.

I went to school.

My purpose this time was obvious.

To use my awakened power to avenge Mom.

A PE class was in progress in the gym.

The students had split into several groups to play basketball. They ran and shouted, their laughter echoing through the spacious gym.

Shōta was in the group by the windows.

He was tall and good at basketball, always getting past people and scoring with ease.

Every time he scored, the girls around him screamed and the boys clapped.

Sunlight streamed through the windows and fell on him, making him look like the protagonist of some teen manga.

Polished, dazzling, popular.

Meanwhile, my mom lay on the floor at home, her body already cold, her blood already dry.

I stood in the gym doorway, watching it all, the black fire in my chest burning fiercer and fiercer.

"Hey, isn't that Yoshino?"

"What's he doing here? Doesn't he always skip PE?"

"He looks awful... Is he sick?"

Some people noticed me, and whispers reached my ears.

Shōta saw me too. He stopped dribbling, looked over at me, then raised his eyebrows and gave me a mocking smile.

"Well, look who dared to crawl outside today. The pest!" he said loudly, drawing a burst of laughter.

I said nothing. I simply raised my hands and formed hand seals.

"Moon Dregs."