Uchiha Ayato and Fushiguro Megumi tracked the pink-haired boy’s trail all the way to a hospital.
The corridor lighting was the color of white paper.
Every so often the beeping of a heart monitor drifted past.
“He went in there — that room.” Fushiguro kept his voice down, pointing toward the closed wooden door ahead.
He reached for the stainless-steel handle.
Just as he was about to push it open, a hand landed on his wrist.
“Wait.
Fushiguro.” Uchiha Ayato’s voice came from the side — unhurried, but firm enough to stop Fushiguro cold.
“What are you doing, Uchiha?
The cursed object could—” Fushiguro turned, brow already knotted.
He tried to pull his wrist free, and found that Ayato’s grip was impossible — like trying to move a mountain.
“There’s a flame in there almost burnt out.” Ayato let go, and his black hair fell slightly over his eyes.
“Someone is saying goodbye.” “A life’s final curtain call shouldn’t have any noise in it.” “Besides — that finger isn’t going anywhere.
Let the kid have his moment in peace.” “Barging in on someone’s last words to the people they love is a classless thing to do.
Whatever the situation.” He didn’t activate the Sharingan.
But having lived through death himself — twice — that sharpened instinct let him feel clearly the signal coming from beyond the door: the labored weight of a heartbeat slowing, the last futile expansion of lungs, and the quiet moan of a soul beginning to separate from flesh.
“But it’s a Special Grade cursed object!
Every extra second—” Fushiguro hissed it, voice barely contained.
He didn’t want to look Uchiha Ayato in the eye, afraid that what he’d see reflected back in those dark pupils was his own reluctance and shame.
“A cursed spirit isn’t going to turn over a new leaf because you walked in two minutes earlier.” Ayato leaned back against the white wall opposite the room.
The fluorescent light above cast a narrow shadow at his feet.
“Interrupt this now, and this kid will resent you for the rest of his life.
I’m pretty sure that’s not the kind of person you are.” Fushiguro’s hand stiffened on the handle for a few seconds, then went slack and fell away.
He breathed out slowly and leaned in silence against the other side of the wall.
“Fine.
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes, if he’s still not out—” “Then I’ll back down.” Ayato gave a quiet laugh in answer.
From inside the room, muffled words drifted through.
“Yuji…
die surrounded by people…
don’t end up like me…” Then silence.
The faint, frail flicker of a life force that had already been dim — in this instant, it guttered and went still entirely.
“Alright.
It’s done.” Uchiha Ayato straightened up from the wall and looked at Fushiguro.
“Ready to make your approach, Fushiguro.” [Social Mission: Earn the friendship of “Sasuke Uchiha — Tournament Edition.” Status: Complete.
Reward: Kusanagi] After the nurse wheeled away the metal bed holding the body, and Yuji Itadori had signed the death certificate, Uchiha Ayato and Fushiguro Megumi stepped out of the shadow.
Their target clearly hadn’t come back to himself yet.
He was walking with his head hanging slightly, the oversized hoodie making him look a little lost.
“Sorry for coming at a time like this.
My condolences.
But I need you to work with us.” Ayato stepped to the boy’s side-front, broke the frozen air first.
Yuji Itadori turned his head slowly and looked at these two who’d appeared out of nowhere.
His eyes held no tears.
Just the lingering blankness of someone still processing death.
“I’m Fushiguro, from Jujutsu High.
I’m sorry for this — but the cursed object you have on you is extremely dangerous.
Please hand it over immediately.” Fushiguro stepped forward, keeping his voice as level as he could.
“Cursed object?” Yuji Itadori tilted his head, visibly confused.
“This.” Fushiguro pulled out his phone and showed Yuji the photo of the wooden box containing Sukuna’s finger.
“Oh — that one.” Yuji’s face cleared.
He reached into his pocket and handed over a wooden box identical to the one in the photo.
“I found it lying around.
I didn’t really care about it, but my upperclassmen were super interested in it.” “What’s dangerous about it?” “You probably won’t believe me, but what’s inside that box has a massive attraction for ‘curses.’ The number of unexplained deaths and disappearances in Japan every year is over ten thousand — most of them caused by ‘curses.'” Fushiguro accepted the box, patiently explaining while his fingers hooked the lid and eased it up.
The inside was lined with aged velvet — the nest of something dangerous.
But right now it was completely empty.
Only the smell of old, stale time remained.
“Empty?” Fushiguro’s expression hardened, pupils tightening.
“Where’s the object that was inside?” “Huh?” Yuji scratched the back of his head.
“My upperclassmen have it, obviously.
They said they were going to peel off that paper thing on it tonight at school.” Fushiguro’s breath caught.
He turned and looked at Uchiha Ayato, and there was something unmistakable in his eyes — See?
I knew something like this would happen!
The message was clear enough.
“Uchiha — we have to go!
If we move now, we might still make it!” Fushiguro spun around and started striding toward the exit.
The sudden urgency startled Yuji, who turned to look at the comparatively calm Uchiha Ayato.
“What’s going on?
Is peeling off the paper dangerous?” “Dangerous, yes,” Ayato said, and nodded with genuine certainty.
“Once that seal comes off, the thing inside will pour out enough cursed energy to draw every cursed spirit within several kilometers straight to it.” “That high school — tonight — is going to become hell.” “And your upperclassmen…
will most likely die.” Yuji Itadori: !!!
Yuji froze.
The sheer volume of information crashed against his system and caused a brief hard freeze.
“I’m going too.” The next second, his mouth opened and the words came out.
Whatever haze had been in his eyes cleared, replaced by a burning, direct conviction.
“That’s on me.
I brought it back.
I’m responsible.” “Hey — this isn’t some club activity.” Fushiguro halted at the door, looked back, voice flat.
“This is death.
Real, actual, bloody death.” Across the room, Uchiha Ayato had sunk into his own quiet calculations — Uncle Ayato, you might have just become the single biggest obstacle to Yuji Itadori’s character development.
He was not the kind of target a couple of Grade 2 cursed spirits could handle on their own, unlike Fushiguro.
With him there, how exactly was Yuji Itadori supposed to find himself at death’s door and then swallow Sukuna’s finger?
No good.
Need to figure out how to slip away midway.
Conveniently, it seemed someone was thinking along exactly the same lines.
Just as Ayato was turning the problem over in his head, a loud explosion erupted in the distant night sky.
The fireball painted half the horizon red.
Cursed energy fluctuation.
A significant cursed energy fluctuation.
And in a completely opposite direction from Sugisawa High School.
At this exact moment, using his feet to think, anyone would know someone was deliberately making trouble.
Well, well.
Talk about someone handing you an umbrella right when it starts raining.
Uchiha Ayato felt a private surge of relief.
On the surface he put on the expression of someone who’d made a split-second resolute decision.
He shoved Yuji Itadori toward Fushiguro, then announced with complete righteousness: “Fushiguro — you and Itadori go retrieve the cursed object.
I’ll handle whatever that is over there!” Done talking, he didn’t wait for a reaction — window, gone.
Leaping between buildings, flickering through the dark with absurd agility, gone from sight in seconds.
Fushiguro: ?
His reflexes are seriously that ridiculous?
So before this…
He was — playing — me?!