Four hours earlier.
Ijichi Kiyotaka’s eyes found Ayato in the rearview mirror — the black-haired boy like an unsheathed blade, those unsettling crimson eyes — and began fulfilling his duty as assistant manager.
“Alright, Uchiha-san.
Let me walk you through the specifics of the first mission.” The sedan stopped at a red light.
Ijichi reached into his briefcase on the passenger seat and pulled out a file, passing it back.
“The target of this mission is the entity known in folklore as Kuchisake-onna — the Slit-Mouthed Woman.” “Kuchisake-onna?” “The classic urban legend?
The woman with a huge pair of shears who asks people if she’s pretty?” Ayato took the file and flipped it open.
On the pages, marked in red ink, were a handful of grim crime scene photographs — every victim had been cut open at the cheeks, the state of the bodies nothing short of horrific.
“Correct.” Ijichi nodded, his tone shifting into something more serious.
“The Kuchisake-onna legend first exploded onto the scene in 1979.
The mass hysteria that swept the country at the time generated so much collective negative emotion that it gave birth directly to a Special Grade Imaginary Vengeful Cursed Spirit.” “Jujutsu High paid a considerable price, but ultimately succeeded in exorcising it that August.” He paused, then continued.
“In general, after a cursed spirit is destroyed, a new cursed spirit of the same origin can be born again after a century or two.” “But…” “The Kuchisake-onna urban legend never went away, and then the internet came along…” Ayato skimmed the rough field notes and filled in what Ijichi hadn’t finished.
“Fear spread by word of mouth accelerated the gestation cycle.
Only forty years and she’s back.” “Exactly.” Ijichi pressed the accelerator again.
“In just under ten days, she’s already caused multiple deaths — including one Grade 2 sorcerer.” “Based on the Windows’ preliminary assessment, this newly-born Kuchisake-onna has likely already reached Grade 1 level.” “Her activity has been tracked to Setagaya Ward.
We’re heading there now to investigate.” Uchiha Ayato gave a small nod and turned his gaze back to the window.
An hour later, the car pulled up to a dark alley entrance.
Yellow-and-black police tape stretched across it.
On the ground, dark stains that rain hadn’t quite managed to wash clean.
Ayato pushed the door open and stepped directly over the tape, examining the scene.
The residual cursed energy was shockingly faint.
The air held only the smell of blood and a weak, cold undercurrent.
For a Grade 1 cursed spirit, a residue this thin was like she’d committed the act and then simply evaporated.
Ijichi hurried to catch up and took in the scene, his face draining of color.
“This little residue?” He looked around in disbelief.
“Cursed spirits normally only inhabit the place where they were born.
This is where she killed last night — even if she’d left, with cursed energy at that magnitude, the residue should’ve trailed for several streets.
How is it…” Uchiha Ayato looked toward the mouth of the alley.
Two girls in school uniforms were on tiptoe trying to peer in.
“Did you hear?
About what happened near here last night…” “Is it true?
I thought it was some weird crime, but is Kuchisake-onna actually real?” “I’m too scared to walk home at night now…” Fragments of conversation drifted on the wind into Ayato’s ears.
He pushed his “chakra” perception to its limit, then shook his head.
“Ijichi-san.
No point searching any further.” “This place is almost certainly a discarded stage set.” “If I’m right, that thing can probably teleport.” Uchiha Ayato brushed the dust from his jacket, and the sharp edge to his presence loosened back into something casual.
Not composure.
He was just out of options.
Against an enemy this here-one-second-gone-the-next, he genuinely couldn’t think of a solution right now.
“Teleport?” Ijichi blinked.
Cold sweat began to bead at his temple.
“You mean this Imaginary Vengeful Cursed Spirit…
doesn’t move along physical pathways?” Uchiha Ayato nodded.
“Working hypothesis only.
Fear festers wherever it takes root — the legend manifests wherever the fear is strongest.” “Ijichi-san, I’ll need you to notify the Windows to step up surveillance across several districts.” “Brace yourself for a long night.
I don’t think either of us is getting any sleep.” Ijichi nodded rapidly, already pulling out his phone to dial headquarters.
“Y-yes, the residue in Setagaya has disappeared…” “Understood, requesting increased…” He hadn’t finished talking when his face changed.
What little color was left in it vanished completely.
He hung up and whipped around to face Ayato, who’d been about to pull the car door open.
“Uchiha-san!
Emergency report from the Windows!” “An extreme cursed energy surge has been detected in Kita Ward!
The reading is approaching Quasi-Special Grade—” “It’s her!” “Kita Ward?” Uchiha Ayato paused, a brief flash of sharpness crossing his eyes.
“If she’s surfaced, that makes things simple.” “So what are we waiting for, Ijichi-san?” “Let’s go — finish early and maybe we’ll still make the half-price bento rush at the supermarket.” Tires screamed against asphalt, filling the air with the sharp smell of burnt rubber, and the black sedan charged into Tokyo’s evening rush hour like a bull that had just been let loose.
Wakaba Mutsumi sat slumped on the floor, both hands pressed hard over her own mouth.
She didn’t dare make a single sound.
The moment their eyes had met, Mutsumi’s blood froze solid.
Pure instinct threw her backward.
She yanked the curtain shut and crawled frantically across the floor to lock her bedroom door.
The heavy fabric cut off the dim light from outside, but it did absolutely nothing about the chill that had burrowed into her bones.
Click.
Click.
From downstairs came the sharp crack of the courtyard gate lock and the front door deadbolt being wrenched apart.
It’s inside.
Don’t come up here…
don’t come up here…
Footsteps in the hallway.
And with them, a sound — heavy metal being dragged across hardwood, a grinding, piercing scrape.
The thing was still downstairs, but the rotting, copper smell of blood had already seeped in through the gap under the door and filled the entire room.
The footsteps stopped outside her door.
Silent tears ran down the girl’s face.
In the countdown where death lifts its scythe, the mind starts flipping through old photographs.
She saw an empty dinner table.
Parents as distant as strangers.
She saw the pink guitar.
She still hadn’t made it sing.
She saw Sakiko.
On the day she left the band, those eyes that always used to shine — full of ash.
If I die here like this, will Sakiko cry for me?
Sorry…
BANG——!
The thin bedroom door was rammed through from the outside by an enormous pair of rusted shears.
Wood splintered and flew.
Cold air cut through.
The door crashed inward.
Above the chalk-white surgical mask, two cloudy eyes full of nothing but malice locked onto the girl on the floor.
“Am I…
beautiful…” The massive shears rose high overhead.
The shadow of death came down.
Wakaba Mutsumi let her tears fall.
Someone, save me…
In that instant, the silhouette of the person she’d glimpsed on the Ikebukuro streets flashed through Mutsumi’s mind.
BOOM——!!
The entire floor-to-ceiling window exploded inward, wall and all.
LUV ME!
LUV ME!~♫ HATE ME!
HATE ME!~♫ Blinding blue-white lightning filled her vision before the sound caught up with it.
A violent gust of air sent wood chips and shattered glass spinning everywhere.
Mutsumi felt a rush of wind tear past her head — followed immediately by the clean, sharp crack of bone splintering.
A tall silhouette stood with its back to her in the middle of the wreckage, one hand in the pocket of his uniform trousers.
Residual blue lightning danced around him, fading like a deity stepping down from the sky.
Slightly curling black hair lifted and settled in the night breeze.
The figure turned.
On that impossibly handsome face, not a trace of the tension you’d expect from someone who’d just been in a fight.
Looking at the green-haired girl collapsed on the floor with completely blank eyes, he actually had the nerve to crack a joke.
“Sorry, got caught in rush hour traffic for a bit.” “Did I keep you waiting?” Author’s Note: I know Jujutsu Kaisen has the Dead Fire Sea thing, and there’s even an anime scene where Itadori tries to form a Rasengan and fool around with a Zanpakutō.
But this is fanfic, so for the sake of the story, just pretend that part doesn’t exist.
To be continued…