“RIKA!!!”
A soul-shattering roar exploded from behind Suguru Geto.
Playful Cloud stopped mere inches from Arata Hoshino’s face.
Geto’s movements froze–not because he was pinned by a technique, but because a massive, suffocating surge of cursed energy had swept in from behind him.
“Finally decided to show up?” Geto withdrew his staff and turned around, a long-awaited smile surfacing on his face.
“Special Grade Vengeful Cursed Spirit: Rika Orimoto.”
Arata forced his eyelids open, peering through blurred vision toward the other end of the plaza.
Yuta Okkotsu stood there, and behind him, a colossal, grotesque white cursed spirit with snakelike braided hair and vertical facial markings was wrapping its arms around him.
Geto didn’t offer a direct reply, instead examining Rika with great interest.
“I see.
So this is your power.
It’s even more…
than I imagined.”
“SHUT UP!”
The moment the words fell, Yuta raised his katana–infused with Rika’s cursed energy–and slashed at Geto.
Geto raised Playful Cloud to parry.
As the cursed tools collided, they unleashed a piercing shriek of grinding metal and a shower of sparks.
The resulting shockwave rippled outward, kicking up debris and causing the surrounding trees to sway violently.
Arata was pushed back several meters by the blast, coming to a stop only when his back hit a fallen tree trunk.
“Cough…
dammit…” Arata spat out blood, his vision swimming again.
Gritting his teeth, he used his remaining left hand to push himself up and began limping toward Maki’s position.
Once he reached her, he felt the cursed energy that had recovered within him and immediately cast Reverse Cursed Technique on both Maki and himself.
After an unknown amount of time, the pale light of the technique faded from his palms, and Arata’s body swayed.
Maki’s wounds had stopped bleeding, and her twisted leg had been reset, but she remained unconscious.
Using his functional left hand, Arata wiped the blood from her face, his fingertips lingering on her cheek for a split second.
“Wait for me.”
Arata stood up.
Looking at the gaping hole in the outer wall of Jujutsu High, he performed a quick, rudimentary repair on his own body before heading toward the breach.
Just as he reached the opening, he saw Yuta Okkotsu land a Black Flash elbow, sending Geto flying.
“You’ve got some skill…” Geto remarked, rolling several times before coming to a stop.
Watching the man he had just sent tumbling, Yuta’s face twisted with raw emotion.
“I don’t know any sorcerers outside of this school, and I don’t know if you’re right or wrong.
But!
To be friends with everyone, and to believe that my life has meaning, I have to kill you!”
“How selfish.
But self-affirmation…” Geto slowly sat up, wiping blood from his lip.
“In this world, self-affirmation is indeed the most important thing.”
Geto stood up.
“In that case, I will also use everything I have to kill you.
I’ll give you the highest quality–and the greatest quantity.”
“Did you know?
A bizarre, elegant cursed spirit dressed in a flowery *junihitoe* kimono, with four eyes and hair reaching its ankles, emerged from his palm.
“This is one of those sixteen: Special Grade Imaginary Vengeful Spirit, Tamamo-no-Mae.
Now, I will combine all 4,461 curses I currently possess into one to attack you.”
Geto raised his hand, a black vortex beginning to swirl at his fingertips.
“Cursed Spirit Manipulation: Maximum Technique: Uzumaki!”
“Rika…” Yuta turned and gently stroked Rika’s head.
“What is it?”
“Thank you for always protecting me.
Thank you for loving me.
For one last time, lend me your strength.
I want to stop him.
After that, I’ll want for nothing.
My future, my heart, my body–I give them all to you.
From now on, we’ll truly be together forever.” Yuta embraced Rika’s massive form.
“I love you, Rika.
Let’s go together.”
The second he spoke, Rika’s body began to swell, and the eye in the center of her head snapped open.
“YUTA!
YUTA!
I LOVE YOU THE MOST-MOST-MOST-MOST!!!”
“Using yourself as a sacrifice to remove the cursed energy limit?
You’re playing that card, you silver-tongued playboy!”
“How rude.” Yuta took his stance.
“This is pure love!”
“Then I am righteousness!”
The Maximum Technique fired first.
But at that moment, someone Geto hadn’t expected appeared in the trajectory of the blast.
“Thanks for the Cursed Spirit Manipulation; otherwise, I really might not have been able to handle this.” Arata took the brunt of the 4,461-curse attack head-on, pointing his right index finger at the oncoming vortex.
“Go to hell with your bullshit righteousness, you bastard!”
“Cursed Technique Reversal.”
“RED!”
A red sphere the size of a ping-pong ball detonated in front of Arata.
The moment the two forces collided, the shockwave obliterated everything in its path.
Arata was sent flying backward, his back smashing into a broken trunk as he coughed up a spray of blood.
Geto’s pupils contracted.
His ultimate technique was dismantled in an instant, but worse, Yuta’s “Pure Love” beam was already upon him.
BOOM!!!
In a massive roar, Geto’s figure was swallowed by the beam.
When the dust settled, Geto had vanished just as he did in the original story.
Arata, having overextended every drop of his cursed energy to fire a single Red, fell into a death-like slumber once again.
“First he used Reverse Cursed Technique to save your life, then he overstrained his body for a Technique Reversal.
He only did basic repairs on himself; that last explosion basically sent him back to square one.” A raspy female voice was reciting a report.
“Twice in my ward in less than half a day.
The kid is lucky to be alive; a normal person would have died eight hundred times over.”
“When will he wake up?” another voice asked, urgency clear in the tone.
“I’m not a god.”
Arata tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they were glued shut.
He focused his consciousness, forcing them open just a crack.
A blinding white light flooded in.
He blinked, his vision slowly focusing.
A white ceiling, the familiar smell of disinfectant, an IV bag hanging by the bed.
“Awake?” Shoko’s face entered his field of vision.
She looked down at him with an unlit cigarette in her mouth.
“How do you feel?”
Arata opened his mouth, but his throat was like sandpaper.
The sound he made was unintelligible even to him.
Shoko handed him a cup of water.
He took a sip, then as if remembering something, he asked, “Where’s Maki?”
Shoko raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.
Arata turned his head and saw Maki sitting in a chair by the bed, peeling an apple.
“You copied Reverse Cursed Technique from me but I never saw you use it.
Still, doing that well for your first time isn’t bad.
You aren’t Gojo or Yuta; don’t be too hard on yourself.” Shoko’s voice continued.
“Also, is your brain filled with nothing but Blood Manipulation?”
Arata paused, then looked down at his bandage-covered body and smirked.
“Who said that?
I used it, didn’t I?
Even if the effect wasn’t great.”
“The effect was poor because you never practiced it seriously, and you were at the center of an explosion.” Shoko put the cigarette back in her mouth, speaking mumble-style.
“Firing a Technique Reversal like Satoru’s without the Six Eyes…
you’re more of a monster than he is.”
Arata fell silent.
*Firing a Cursed Technique Reversal: Red at the cost of all my energy and falling into a coma?
If Sukuna, the King of Loans, can constantly use Binding Vows to get ahead, why can’t I take out a ‘loan’ for the Limitless?*
“Forget it, you won’t listen in this state anyway.” Shoko waved a hand, turning toward the door.
“Stay in bed.
That Zenin girl watched over you all night.
If you pass out again, she’ll probably tear my infirmary apart.”
“Wait, Miss Ieiri.” Arata called out as she reached the door.
“What about Suguru Geto?”
“Satoru caught him trying to escape.
Don’t know what they talked about, but Suguru’s body is already in my morgue.” With that, Shoko walked out.
Arata considered asking Shoko to cremate the body, but then decided against it.
He was actually starting to look forward to the Shibuya Incident and the Culling Game.
Just then, he felt a gaze on his face.
He turned his head and locked eyes with Maki Zenin.
Her eyes were bloodshot, with faint dark circles beneath them, but her expression was as flat as ever–as if nothing had happened.