Megumi Fushiguro gave a firm nod.
"No problem. Leave it to me."
Nanami Kira raised an eyebrow slightly, thinking the kid was surprisingly agreeable.
I should bring him on more missions from now on. For training purposes, of course. Definitely not because I want to slack off at work.
He waved a hand and turned to leave.
Fushiguro watched Kira's retreating figure until it disappeared, then refocused, his gaze sharpening.
"Where's the finger?"
He addressed the chubby boy in front of him.
"It's at—" The boy started to answer, but his pupils suddenly dilated. He screamed: "Behind you!"
Crack. Crack!
The sound of shattering glass. The massive window exploded into a thousand glittering fragments, each shard reflecting Fushiguro's startled face as he spun around. A hulking shadow barreled through the cascade of glass and slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
BOOM.
The wall cratered inward. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from where Fushiguro's body had been driven into it. He could feel the crushing pressure against his chest, the slimy, damp, revolting texture pressed against him—like having Nanami Kira's special secret-recipe cat food smeared across his face.
"Divine Dog."
A flash of silver-brown burst through the moonlight and tackled the Cursed Spirit pinning him down. Writhing tentacles were shredded between razor-sharp fangs. Chunks of gore were chewed and swallowed whole.
"Run." Fushiguro staggered to his feet and shoved the boy away. "Get out of here. As far as you can. And the finger—where is it? Tell me!"
"It—it's with my senpai! We split up on the second floor!"
"Tch."
Moonlight pooled across the silent corridor. Shadows swayed in its path as the girl rushed through the hallway in a panic.
Strange noises echoed from behind. Terrible groaning drifted from the walls. Upstairs, something clattered like marbles hitting the floor. In the empty classrooms on either side, desks and chairs scraped across the floor on their own.
"Someone help me... please, someone help me..."
She didn't understand what was happening. All she could do was run blindly, with no idea where to go.
CRASH.
The floor beneath her feet shattered. A black shape burst upward—a massive, writhing caterpillar with human eyes that glowed a sickly red, looming over the girl.
Her legs gave out. She collapsed, staring in horror as the grotesque thing crawled toward her, its cold aura growing closer and closer.
"Someone... anyone... please..."
Viscous drool dripped onto her head. Those crimson pupils dilated. That grotesque mouth split open all the way to the eyes, and it lunged—
A skull-masked hand clamped down on its head.
BOOM.
It burst into fragments and disintegrated in a bloom of fire.
Nanami Kira stepped out of the darkness and extended his hand.
"Hand it over."
"Huh?"
"The finger. Hurry up. I'm off the clock."
I knew I couldn't trust kids with this kind of work. Adult problems require adult solutions.
Nanami Kira didn't consider himself a good person, but he had his principles.
A Special Grade Cursed Spirit was clearly out of those brats' league. If they died because of it, the headache would land squarely on him.
Render unto God what is God's, and unto Caesar what is Caesar's. Adults handle adult business; kids should stick to dreaming. Even if overtime disgusted him to his core.
"I don't have it... just now, there was a monster, and Itadori saved me."
The girl swallowed hard, fighting to steady herself, and managed to say in a trembling voice:
"He told me to give him the finger and go first..."
"I see."
Kira's expression darkened. Through the window, he could see the monstrous Cursed Energy coalescing outside. He clicked his tongue.
"Tch!"
Fushiguro stood before the overwhelming pressure, staring at the terrifying figure standing atop a pile of Cursed Spirit remains. Four eyes, each one curved in lazy amusement. His pupils tilted upward, and his mouth split into an impossibly wide grin.
"What a wonderful era! What a truly wonderful era! Blood—I want blood! A woman's blood!"
He clawed at his own scalp, tearing off chunks of skin in his excitement. He jammed his index finger into his own temple, cackling:
"This is the BEST!"
The finger burrowed into the temple. The passage was narrow and wet. Sukuna pushed harder, widening the hole until a second finger fit. He drove both in, probing deeper until they hit resistance—a thin cranial membrane.
He punched through it. Drove past the meninges into the deepest, softest, warmest part—the cerebral cortex. Another membrane. Pushed harder—
Sukuna Brand Finger-Lickin' Original Recipe Chicken—beat hunger, be yourself!
"Hey. Stop doing weird things to someone else's body."
Yuji Itadori's voice rang out.
"Huh?"
Sukuna tilted his head and pulled his fingers free. The moment they left, the bloody hole sealed itself shut.
"I said, why are you poking huge holes in someone else's body? And that deep, too."
"You... can still talk?"
"Women's blood—yeah, I don't have any. But if you really want it, I could ask my female classmates to spare a bit each month. They'd probably think I'm a creep, though. In exchange, can you give me my body back?"
A shudder. The two eyes on his cheeks slowly closed, fading into two black lines. Yuji Itadori patted his own head and returned to normal.
"Itadori."
"Yeah?"
Itadori turned. Fushiguro stood behind him, hands woven together in a strange seal. Black Cursed Energy surged from his body.
"I declare you a Curse to be exorcised."
Fushiguro murmured, his pupils trembling.
I'm sorry...
"He can consume Sukuna's finger... A vessel?"
A calm voice came from behind.
"Kira-senpai?"
Fushiguro spun around. Nanami Kira was walking up the staircase, unhurried. His shikigami trailed behind him, its vertical red pupils gleaming.
"Can't bring yourself to do it?"
"I shouldn't have left this to you kids."
Kira's voice was quiet, his expression serene.
"You didn't do anything wrong. This one's on me."
As previously established, Nanami Kira was a man who reflected and learned from his mistakes. He could assess any situation with calm detachment, face his errors squarely, and extract the lesson.
The lesson this time: do your own damn work. His dream was to be an ordinary, contented salaryman—and an ordinary, contented salaryman doesn't dump his work on the junior staff.
This wasn't about good or evil. It was a professional standard that applied to any industry. Nanami Kira liked standards.
He lifted his chin toward Itadori.
"Didn't you say you wanted to die surrounded by people?"
"Prove it to me. Let that thing out for ten seconds."