The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Yaga's office, casting long bars of light across the wooden floor. Dust swirled in the still air like tiny ghosts. Nanami and Haibara stood at attention, their uniforms crisp, their eyes sharp with anticipation.
Kishibe leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, a long scar twitching slightly at the corner of his mouth. He said nothing.
Yaga tapped a manila folder against his palm before placing it on his desk. "We've received a report of a second-grade curse haunting a forgotten temple at the edge of Chichibu. Several locals have gone missing over the past month. And three days ago, we sent a scout to investigate."
Nanami's eyes narrowed. "They didn't come back."
"Thirty-six hours since last contact," Yaga confirmed. "All we got was static and a garbled voice. We believe the temple is saturated with cursed energy. Too much for students alone." His gaze settled on Kishibe. "That's where you come in. You'll watch their backs—but don't intervene unless it's necessary. They need to learn what it's like out there."
Kishibe didn't move for a moment. Then: "Understood."
Haibara gave a thumbs-up. "We won't let you down, Sensei!"
Yaga allowed himself a faint smile. "Just come back alive. All of you."
---
The path to the temple wound through twisted forest trails, flanked by gnarled trees that arched like broken ribs. Fog clung low to the earth, curling around their ankles with a ghostly persistence. The forest was too quiet—no birds, no wind. Only the steady crunch of boots on dead leaves.
"Cursed energy's thick," Nanami muttered, sniffing the air.
"I know," Haibara said, eyes scanning the shadows. "I can feel it crawling in my teeth."
Kishibe crouched by a moss-covered stone, brushing his gloved fingers over a splatter of dried black ooze. It shimmered faintly, unnatural and foul.
"This is old," he murmured. "And it's been feeding. Probably nesting inside."
The temple appeared through the fog like a dying memory. A collapsed torii gate stood askew, half-swallowed by vines. Stone lanterns lay shattered. A statue of Jizo Bodhisattva slouched beneath ivy, its face eroded into a hollow expression.
"I hate this already," Haibara whispered.
Kishibe's eyes swept the scene. His voice was flat. "It's watching us."
They stepped past the threshold. And the air changed.
---
Inside the temple ruins, the chill deepened. Broken corridors stretched like ribs around them. Floorboards groaned underfoot. Faint chanting echoed—too far, too faint, and not entirely human.
"Don't separate," Nanami said. "We map the space first. Then draw the curse out."
Haibara's grip tightened on his cursed tool—a serrated blade etched with sutras. "I'll take point. My blade's built for close quarters."
"No heroics," Nanami warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Haibara grinned.
They moved deeper. The air reeked of mold, iron, and decay. Old murals lined the walls—images of monks, rituals, and something monstrous sealed behind paper charms that had long since rotted away.
Suddenly, a scraping noise.
The floor behind Haibara burst open.
A mass of twisted flesh and bone exploded upward—limbs that weren't quite limbs, eyes that didn't blink, mouths stitched across its body like crude tattoos. It screeched, and the sound felt like needles behind the eyes.
"Move!" Nanami shouted.
Haibara dove to the side as a bladed limb slashed at him, embedding itself in a broken beam.
"Split up! Keep it guessing!"
Kishibe didn't move. His eyes followed the curse. He listened. Measured.
Nanami flanked left, his Ratio Technique activating—his blade glowing with sharp precision as he struck at a jointed limb. Haibara darted right, swinging his cursed tool in fluid arcs, trying to carve into the center mass.
Their teamwork was solid. But the curse was older. Angrier. Each time they cut, its flesh hissed and regrew. Mouths across its body whispered in broken voices:
> "He screamed… she bled… I remember…"
"It's binding itself to the structure!" Nanami said, panting. "It's drawing power from the temple itself."
"Then we kill it faster!" Haibara roared.
The curse screamed back—and launched a jagged spear of bone.
It clipped Haibara's shoulder and sent him tumbling into a collapsed pillar, blood blooming through his sleeve.
Kishibe moved.
A blur. A flicker. His blade sang.
One of the creature's limbs dropped to the floor, writhing like a severed lizard tail.
"I said don't be reckless," Kishibe muttered, stepping between the curse and the students. His voice was calm. Cold.
Then came Severance.
His technique ignited—cursed energy sharpened to an unnatural edge. Where his blade passed, cursed flesh didn't just slice—it unraveled.
Nanami and Haibara watched from cover as Kishibe danced through the battlefield, his movements merciless and surgical. Each step was deliberate. Each strike final.
"You see that?" Haibara whispered.
Nanami's eyes didn't leave Kishibe. "That's not what we're supposed to become."
"Then what is it?"
Nanami answered without hesitation. "It's what we have to surpass."
The curse shrieked, all its mouths screaming as one—before Kishibe drove his blade through its core. A pulse of cursed energy burst outward, and then the body collapsed in on itself, turning to black ash.
Silence.
---
The fog had thinned by the time they exited the temple. Beneath a dying tree at the edge of the clearing, the three sat without speaking. The branches above them were bare, despite the season.
Kishibe lit a cigarette. The tip glowed in the gray light.
"You did okay," he said finally.
Nanami scoffed. "We almost died."
"Exactly. But you didn't."
Haibara grinned despite the bandage on his shoulder. "Thanks for stepping in, Kishibe-san."
"Don't make me do it again."
A long pause stretched.
"You think we'll ever be like you?" Haibara asked, tilting his head up toward the branches.
Kishibe didn't answer right away. The smoke curled around his face.
Then he said, "I hope not."
Nanami blinked. "Why?"
Kishibe stared into the trees. "Because being like me means you've seen too much. Lost too much. If you're lucky… you'll stay human."
The wind rustled the dead leaves. Nobody spoke after that.
---
Back at Jujutsu High, Yaga sat behind his desk, reviewing the mission report. Kishibe stood before him, silent.
"They did well," Yaga said.
"They need more field work," Kishibe replied. "And supervision."
Yaga nodded. "Agreed. But… you did good too."
Kishibe gave a low grunt of acknowledgment and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, Yaga added, "The scout we lost. His body was found outside the temple perimeter. Looks like he died trying to lead something away. We'll give him a proper send-off."
Kishibe paused. A flicker of something crossed his face—quick, unreadable.
Then he left, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
And for just a moment, his shoulders were lighter.