Kyoto suburbs.
A public hospital.
The corridors always smelled of disinfectant.
Years of it, soaked into the walls, ground into the grout , the kind of smell that never quite left.
“—So that’s three this month.” Behind the nurses’ station counter, a middle-aged nurse in her forties dropped the medical file onto the desk and pulled off her glasses.
“Three what?” The younger nurse beside her looked up from the infusion sheets she’d been sorting.
“Transfers.” The middle-aged nurse put her glasses back on and lowered her voice.
“From a big city hospital.
‘Recuperation,’ they said.
But look, ” She tapped the file with one finger.
“, Blisters.
Pustules.
No identifiable cause.
They detected viruses and bacteria, sure, but the infection source is completely unknown.
And even when the symptoms clear up short-term, the patient gets re-infected.
No rhyme or reason to it.” “Can’t find the source, but they keep getting sick anyway.
At this point it’s practically paranormal.” She clicked her tongue.
“The city recommended palliative care.
Which means they shipped them here to die.
Big hospitals have quotas to maintain , they can’t have patients just dying arbitrarily on their wards.” The younger nurse leaned in closer.
“A curse?” “Shh, ” The middle-aged nurse shot her a sharp look.
“The director brought in a spiritual medium, didn’t he?
Going on almost a week now.” “A spiritual medium…” The younger nurse’s expression shifted into something complicated.
“The director believes in that?
We’re a public hospital.” “Shh.” The middle-aged nurse set the file down.
“Enough.
Let’s do rounds.
The old lady in 301 is doing decent today.
The one in 302…” She paused.
“…You’re coming with me.” The younger nurse’s expression went still for a moment.
But she nodded.
……..
…..
They pushed through the glass door of the nurses’ station and stepped into the corridor.
White.
Pale, flat white, in every direction.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead and swallowed half their footsteps.
Room 302 was at the end of the hall.
The door was half-open.
The middle-aged nurse knocked once, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
“Hello, we’re here for your temperature and blood pressure—” The room was small.
One bed.
One nightstand.
One chair.
The curtains were drawn shut except for a single gap, and the afternoon light pressed through it in a thin white line across the floor.
A woman lay curled on the bed.
The blanket over her barely rose and fell.
The hand resting on top of it was a map of raised veins.
Her face was turned toward the wall , only half a profile visible, sunken and sharp.
At the sound of the door, her body gave a visible flinch.
“Um — hello.
We’re just here to check on a few things.” The nurse began working through the routine questions.
Digestion.
Mobility.
Mental state.
She hadn’t gotten far when the woman seemed to startle all over again.
She curled tighter, turned fully away from the nurses, and grabbed a fistful of fabric from the person sitting beside her , burying herself against him like she was trying to disappear.
The man in the pale blue caregiver’s uniform murmured something soft, and she stilled.
The middle-aged nurse took a moment to actually look at him.
Azure-blue hair, short and clean.
A straight nose.
Gentle eyes, and a brow that sat easy.
There was a faint curve at the corner of his mouth , barely there, but the kind of expression that made the tension in your shoulders ease without you noticing.
Young men who looked like that didn’t usually end up in caregiving.
The work was brutal.
High intensity, poor conditions, and the pay didn’t reflect any of it.
Unless someone came in with a genuine calling, they’d sooner take construction work than choose this.
But this one seemed like exactly that rare type.
He hadn’t done anything dramatic.
Just a few quiet words.
And somehow the woman had settled.
“I’m sorry.
She’s been having a difficult time with her nerves.” “…No, it’s all right.” The nurses watched him for a moment longer than was strictly professional.
They’d seen this woman come in , delicate-featured, still able to speak for herself.
They’d watched her become this.
Non-communicative.
Unable to move without help.
The pustules on her skin gave off a smell that didn’t leave a room easily.
It took something to work around that every day with the same steady warmth he showed now.
Some of the more involved care still had to go through the female nurses, but the physical, exhausting, unglamorous work , that fell to him too, and he did it without complaint.
New hires had been scarce lately.
Including him, there were only two male caregivers on staff.
Truly impressive, the head nurse thought.
And meant it.
.
“Geto.
Status?” [Manageable.] The two nurses left.
Himmel coaxed the patient to sleep, then drifted to the window and pressed one hand against the side of his head, fingers over the earpiece.
Geto Suguru’s voice came through calm and even.
[Spread rate is faster than I modeled.
We’re running out of time.
Move soon.] “Understood.” Since arriving at Jujutsu High, Himmel had needed less than a week to earn the acknowledgment of both Special Grade sorcerers , Geto and Gojo.
After that, less than a month of running missions back-to-back had gotten him recognized by the Jujutsu world’s upper hierarchy.
Himmel was strong.
That much had become established fact.
Once the word spread, mission difficulty had climbed accordingly.
This case was a different league from anything he’d handled alongside Nanami.
[Special Grade Mission] Objective: Identify the cursed spirit responsible for the unidentified infections at the suburban hospital.
Eliminate the source.
Contain cursed energy spread.
Three weeks ago, patients began presenting with blisters and pustules.
Symptoms resistant to treatment, infection source undetectable, and spreading fast.
The hospital had initially treated it as an infectious disease , until critical patients started filing reports describing shapes that resembled cursed spirits.
It was a known phenomenon: humans approaching death sometimes became able to perceive cursed spirits, triggered by environmental pressure.
Which meant this might not be a disease at all.
It might be a curse.
A cursed spirit capable of simultaneously afflicting over a hundred people and continuing to spread its effect, though, was likely already Special Grade.
The higher-ups had dispatched Geto to handle it.
Himmel had come along as support.
Together, they had found nothing useful.
So a week ago, Himmel had gone undercover as a caregiver.
With help from a few Jujutsu High sorcerers whose techniques leaned toward cognitive suggestion, the cover had held without incident.
And after a week of working the wards from the inside, he’d finally found something.
The cursed spirit was returning to the same place.
Fixed time.
Fixed location.
Like a killer who couldn’t stay away from the scene.
“Tonight, then.” From the window where Himmel stood, the hospital grounds stretched a few hundred meters toward the foothills.
Past the tree line at the edge of the distant forest, Geto sat alone on a branch, binoculars raised toward the building.
“If it’s a Special Grade, civilian lives come first.
On top of that, give me as much of an opening as possible to attempt subdual.
And before any of that, use your technique to, ” [Beep] [Ambient Noise Reduction] “…What was that?” [My apologies.
I must have held the button too long.
It triggered some kind of tone.] Himmel’s voice came through the earpiece.
[By the way, Geto , why didn’t you come in as a nurse too?] “Because I’m not wearing a nurse’s uniform.” [Hm?
I think it’d suit you.] Geto hung up without answering.
He sat in the tree for a moment after, letting out a slow breath.
The past month had been relentless.
Missions back-to-back, travel between assignments, then back to Jujutsu High to look after the kids.
It had been, somehow, even busier than the month before.
The worst of the summer heat was finally breaking.
And Geto’s mood, he noticed, had quietly done the same.
Just like Yaga had said…
……
…
On the way back to the nurses’ station, around the same time.
“Good work.” “You too.” The two nurses nodded to the caregiver coming down the hall toward them and passed him without stopping.
Once he was far enough away, the younger nurse leaned close to the head nurse and lowered her voice.
“He’s a new hire too?
He’s really something.
Though…” “Mm.” The head nurse considered.
“Don’t bring it up around others, all right?
Word is it’s from a childhood injury.” “That scar on his head.” ➤ Next: Domain Expansion —
The story is already written.