I almost died today.
And in that last second—when my cursed energy ran dry and the dark finally closed in—it wasn't my family, my sensei, or my own life flashing before my eyes.
It was him. His profile under the vending machine light. His voice saying something I can't even remember the words to, just the warmth of it.
Hasaba Nale is a first-year jujutsu sorcerer who survives his first brush with a special-grade curse by inches, and comes back changed in a way he doesn't have a name for yet.
I Was Smiling Right Beside You - Don't throw it with all your strength, idiot
A week had passed since the injury.
The right knee that had shattered through the third-floor window of the abandoned building and fallen was barely painful now, thanks to Iori's Reverse Cursed Technique. The bandage on his arm was gone. His body moved. He understood that much.
And yet, standing before the entrance to the training building——nicknamed "the Box"——Hasaba Nale's feet hesitated for just a moment.
*(Let's go.)*
He told himself that, and pushed the door open.
The Box was an indoor training facility about the size of two gymnasiums combined. Multiple layers of barriers were inscribed on the interior walls and floor, designed so that even if a sorcerer used their techniques at full power, the building wouldn't break. Students at Jujutsu High trained their physical techniques and cursed techniques here, in conditions close to actual combat. From the outside it looked like an old warehouse, but once inside, the quality of the air changed slightly——apparently because cursed energy circulated through it constantly in minute amounts.
The floor was rubber material, absorbing the impact of landings. Four sandbags lined the wall, with a water tap and washing area at the end. Windows were set high and narrow, letting in light even during the day. Today the sky was overcast, and the light fell pale and diffuse.
Ijichi, the assistant supervisor, stood in the corner holding a clipboard. Behind his thin glasses, his eyes caught sight of Nale, and his expression softened with relief.
"Hasaba, welcome back. Please don't overexert yourself,"
"I'm fine,"
Ijichi nodded and returned his gaze to the clipboard.
"Today is grappling practice. I'm assigning partners——please pair with Itadori,"
The moment that name reached his ears, something inside Nale's chest shifted slightly. He remembered that night from a week ago. On the rooftop, holding a canned coffee, looking up at the sky, cradling something nameless in his chest.
*(Can't be helped.)*
Thinking that, he walked toward the center of the Box.
"Nale!"
Itadori Yuji raised his hand toward him. His 178-centimeter frame looked strange contained in this wide space. His jersey zipper was half-open, and he was already dressed for easy movement before even breaking a sweat. His black hair was messier than usual. His face was bright. He looked like he was thinking of something fun, smiling faintly the whole time.
"Your injury——you're all better?"
"Yeah,"
"Good. Then let's go all out,"
"……Wait, all out——"
The next instant, his vision spun.
A floating sensation. The floor approached. With a dull thud, Nale was slammed onto the mat. He immediately took the fall, rolled, and stood up. No pain in his body. He'd taken the fall properly.
But.
*(Too fast.)*
Itadori was smiling.
"Nice ukemi!"
"Don't throw me while smiling……"
Before he could even reset his stance, Itadori was already moving. The speed of Itadori's footwork was off the charts. He was doing this with pure physical technique, not cursed energy reinforcement. The vessel of Sukuna——Itadori Yuji, who held a special position in the jujutsu world——his body already transcended human standards from the start. Even among students entering as jujutsu sorcerers, his physical foundation was fundamentally different.
He was thrown again. Ukemi. Rolling. Standing.
After rolling across the floor the third time, Nale lay on his back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Two fluorescent lights cast white illumination downward.
"Three perfect ukemi in a row!"
"……Is this really the time to praise me?"
Itadori extended his hand. Nale grasped it and stood up. Itadori's hand was large, and when gripped firmly, the sensation of being pulled was unmistakable.
"Where did you train your physical technique? There's barely any sense of you relying on cursed energy,"
"……I was doing it before I enrolled,"
"Where?"
"Various places,"
Itadori didn't press further. When Nale didn't elaborate, he naturally didn't push——he read that kind of atmosphere without thinking about it.
They continued training. Nale was thrown far more often than he threw, but he landed every fall. His knee showed no sign of pain.
Ijichi called out from beside the wall.
"The current number of active jujutsu sorcerers was tallied last month at three hundred ninety-six. That's fewer than usual. The high school's graduation rate typically hovers around seventy percent, but this year those numbers may drop slightly,"
He shared such information in the gaps between training. Nale understood what those numbers meant. Of the thirty percent who didn't graduate, he'd never asked how many died. He didn't ask because he understood without asking.
Even hearing such talk, Itadori took his stance again before his expression could darken.
"That's why we train,"
He said it shortly, simply.
Nale said nothing. But he found himself liking that one phrase.
---
After training ended, the two of them lined up at the water tap to wash their hands.
While Itadori wiped his face with a towel, he said casually:
"You're really good at ukemi, Nale. It makes me feel safe going all out,"
The hand wiping sweat stopped.
*(What?)*
Those words fell into him like a stone into still water. "Safe going all out"——that meant Itadori trusted him. He thought Nale was reliable enough to use his full strength. That's what those words meant.
Something deep in Nale's chest trembled quietly.
"……Yeah,"
That was all he could say. His voice sounded slightly hoarse, and he hurriedly splashed water on his hands again.
*(Why does my face feel like this?)*
Itadori had already slung the towel over his shoulder and was heading toward the Box's exit.
"Let's go, grab food before dinner,"
"Oh, yeah,"
Just outside the Box, another student——a second-year senpai——called out to Itadori.
"Itadori, how've you been? Come train with me again sometime,"
"Sounds good, of course!"
Itadori grinned and answered easily. That smile was exactly the same as the one he'd directed at Nale moments before. The same casual brightness as when he'd said "makes me feel safe going all out."
Nale stood a little behind, watching.
*(So that's what he's like.)*
Itadori Yuji was that kind of person. Kind to everyone, considerate of everyone, smiling at everyone the same way. Not just at Nale. "Safe going all out" was just a casual observation for Itadori, a throwaway comment, nothing that made Nale special.
He knew that. He'd known it from the start.
But why did his chest feel like it was being squeezed? Nale still couldn't explain it well.
---
In the evening, when Nale returned to the dorm's common room, Itadori was lying on the sofa watching a movie.
The not-very-spacious common room held a sofa, a TV, and a small table. The male dormitory residents were Itadori, Fushiguro, and Nale——three people——and Fushiguro hadn't come out of his room today. Three mandarin oranges from Ijichi's gift yesterday remained on top of the refrigerator.
Itadori noticed Nale's presence and looked up.
"Oh, this is awesome. Watch it with me,"
He patted the cushion next to the sofa.
"……What movie is it?"
"Action. The main character is ridiculously strong,"
Nale sat down beside him for now.
On the TV, someone was running through a building. An explosion occurred, sparks scattered, the protagonist shouted something. Subtitles scrolled. The content didn't register in his mind.
*(Why isn't it registering?)*
Itadori leaned forward and said, "This is the coolest part right here." Nale turned in that direction. But his gaze wasn't on the TV——it had shifted slightly to the side.
Itadori's profile.
His face concentrated on the movie. His eyes serious, his mouth slightly open. His nose bridge straight, black bangs falling near his ear. A faint flush from training still lingering on his cheek.
*(I'm looking.)*
The moment Nale realized it, he shifted his gaze back to the TV. The can of Pocari Sweat in his hand, he gripped it harder than necessary. The cold metal dug into his fingers.
This was bad.
He thought that, but couldn't quite put the reason into words. Somehow, without fully understanding it himself, he kept stealing glances at Itadori's profile. That much was certain.
The movie continued.
Nale pretended to watch the screen.
---
Just after six in the evening, a call came from Ijichi.
"Grade 2 cursed spirit exorcism mission. Abandoned shrine near the high school. I need you and Itadori to handle it, the two of you,"
Ijichi's voice on the phone was calm, but slightly hurried. The mission would run from evening into night. Grade 2——in terms of jujutsu sorcerer rankings, mid-tier strength, within the range two students could handle, but not an opponent to be careless with.
"Understood,"
He hung up, returned to his room, and checked his equipment. Gloves, foot wraps, a small cursed tool blade——Nale's technique wasn't suited for long-range combat. Close-quarters fighting was his foundation.
He met Itadori in the hallway. Itadori had already switched modes completely. The smile remained, but his eyes were different.
"Let's go,"
"Yeah,"
---
The abandoned shrine was about a twenty-minute walk from the high school.
The grounds after the rain were dark. Water pooled on the stone pavement, reflecting light. The vermillion of the torii gate was peeling, exposing gray underneath. Part of the main shrine's roof had collapsed, and weeds covered the stone steps. The abandoned shrine, untouched for so long, carried that air of decay.
That air bred cursed spirits.
Cursed spirits were born from human negative emotions. More precisely, human fear, despair, anger, sorrow——such things accumulated in a place and eventually manifested as a conscious entity. At this abandoned shrine, the accumulated neglect of faith and the dread of deterioration had spawned a cursed spirit. Ordinary humans couldn't see it. They only felt it as discomfort. But to a jujutsu sorcerer's eyes, it was clear.
From deeper in the grounds came a sluggish presence.
It had a human shape, but wasn't human. A Grade 2 cursed spirit——roughly Nale's size, but its outline was undefined. It had four arms. Its eyes were arranged vertically. Its gelatinous form writhed in the darkness.
Itadori moved first.
He dodged the spirit's first arm and drove his fist forward. A dull impact. The cursed spirit staggered. Itadori's fist was wrapped in cursed energy, piercing through the spirit's body.
Nale circled from the left. He activated his technique. Cursed energy concentrated in his fingertips——Nale's technique was contact-type. By directly touching the target, he poured cursed energy into it, causing internal collapse.
The second arm swung at him. He dodged. The third came. He dodged that too. The fourth——
*(Fast.)*
His body couldn't quite keep up with the half-step needed.
Just as he lost his balance, a shadow cut across his vision.
Itadori.
He stepped in front of Nale and took the fourth arm on his shoulder. His jersey tore. Blood seeped from his right shoulder——no, not seeped. A clear red line ran across it. A drop of blood fell onto the stone pavement.
"Itadori——"
His voice came out. He was surprised at how hoarse it sounded.
*(No.)*
His vision went white. More precisely, his mind went blank. Thought stopped. Something overflowed from deep within his body. Cursed energy. Output he couldn't normally produce came from somewhere.
He activated his technique.
He touched the cursed spirit.
He poured cursed energy into it.
With a wet sound, the spirit collapsed. Only a black stain remained on the stone pavement, and even that faded quickly.
Silence fell.
The wind after rain blew. Trees in the grounds swayed.
Itadori turned around and grinned.
"That was easy,"
Nale couldn't say anything.
Itadori's right shoulder, his jersey stained red.
---
At the medical wing, Shoko Ieiri examined him immediately and said, "Shoulder laceration. Doesn't need stitches, but it needs disinfec
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