17: Fushiguro Megumi: Are You F*cking Playing Me?
17: Fushiguro Megumi: Are You F*cking Playing Me?
Uchiha Ayato and Fushiguro Megumi followed the pink-haired boy’s trail all the way to a hospital.
The corridor lights were pale as paper, and every so often the hum of a heart-rate monitor drifted through the air.
“He went in—that ward right there.” Fushiguro Megumi lowered his voice, pointing at the shut wooden door ahead.
He reached out and gripped the stainless-steel handle, and just as he was about to push the door open, a hand came to rest on his wrist.
“Hold on, Fushiguro.” Uchiha Ayato’s voice drifted in from the side, unhurried, yet it brought Fushiguro Megumi’s movement to a dead stop.
“Uchiha, what are you doing?
That Cursed Object could go off any—” Fushiguro Megumi turned his head, his brows knotting together.
He tried to shake off Ayato’s hand, only to find the grip terrifyingly strong—immovable as a mountain.
“There’s a flame in there that’s about to burn out.” Ayato released him, his hanging black hair falling to half-veil his eyes.
“He’s saying his goodbyes.” “Life’s final curtain call shouldn’t be marred by noise.” “Cutting in on a man as he speaks the last words of his life is a tasteless thing to do.
That finger isn’t going to sprout legs and run off, so let the kid have a quiet moment at the bedside.” “It’s the privilege of the dying—and the duty of the living.” He hadn’t activated his Sharingan, but the keen instinct of one who had known death firsthand let him clearly catch the rhythm of a life failing behind that door.
It was the heartbeat growing heavier, the lungs expanding one last futile time, and the mournful cry of a soul about to be peeled from its flesh.
“But that’s a Special Grade Cursed Object!
Every second we waste—” Fushiguro Megumi growled under his breath.
He didn’t dare meet Uchiha Ayato’s eyes, afraid he’d catch his own reluctance and shame reflected in those pupils.
“A Cursed Spirit isn’t going to turn over a new leaf and start doing good deeds just because you barge in two minutes early.” Ayato leaned against the white wall across from the ward, the fluorescent light at the top of the corridor casting a long, thin shadow at his feet.
“Walk in now, and he’ll resent you for the rest of his life.
I’d like to think you’re not that crude a person.” Fushiguro Megumi’s hand held stiff on the handle for a few seconds before finally sliding off, limp.
He let out a deep breath and leaned silently against the opposite wall.
“Fine.
Ten minutes.
If he’s still not out after ten minutes—” “Then we’ll do it your way.” Ayato answered with a soft chuckle.
Faintly, the sound of conversation filtered out from inside the ward— “Yuji…
you have to die surrounded by people who care for you…
don’t end up like me…” And then, there was no more sound.
The already faint, flickering breath of life dispersed completely in that instant.
“There.
It’s over.” Uchiha Ayato straightened up and looked at Fushiguro Megumi.
“Get ready to negotiate, Fushiguro.” [Social Mission: Obtain the friendship of Uchiha Sasuke · “Tournament Exclusive.”] [Status: Complete] [Reward: Kusanagi Sword] …
After the nurses had wheeled away the metal bed bearing the body and Itadori Yuji had signed the death certificate, Uchiha Ayato and Fushiguro Megumi stepped out of the shadows.
Their target clearly hadn’t pulled himself out of his grief; his head hung slightly, and the loose hoodie made his frame look all the more forlorn.
“Sorry to come to you at such an unfortunate time.
My condolences—but I’ll still have to ask you to cooperate with our work.” Ayato stepped up to the boy’s side and spoke, breaking the frozen silence.
Itadori Yuji turned his head sluggishly, looking at the two abrupt intruders.
There were no tears in his eyes—only a lingering, unshaken bewilderment at death.
“I’m Fushiguro, from Jujutsu High.
I’m sorry to say it, but the Cursed Object in your possession is extremely dangerous.
Please hand it over to me right away.” Fushiguro Megumi took a step forward, keeping his tone as level as he could.
“Cursed object?” Itadori Yuji tilted his head, visible confusion surfacing on his face.
“This.” Fushiguro Megumi pulled out his phone and showed Itadori a picture of the wooden box that held Sukuna’s finger.
“Oh, that thing.” Realization dawned on Itadori Yuji.
He fished a wooden box—identical to the one in the photo—out of his pocket and handed it to Fushiguro Megumi.
“I’m the one who found it.
I couldn’t care less about it myself, but my senpai were really into it.” “How is this thing even dangerous, anyway?” “You might not believe me, but the thing inside has an enormous pull on ‘curses.’ Every year, over ten thousand people in this country die or vanish under unexplained circumstances—and most of it is the work of ‘curses.'” Fushiguro Megumi took the box and patiently explained to Itadori Yuji while hooking a finger under the edge of the lid and flipping it open.
The inside was lined with aged velvet—a nest made to cradle something dangerous—but right now it was utterly empty, holding nothing but the musty smell of years of decay.
“Empty?” Fushiguro Megumi’s expression darkened in an instant, his pupils contracting.
“Where’s the thing that was inside?” “Eh?” Itadori Yuji scratched his head.
“With my senpai, obviously.
They said they’re going to peel off that talisman at school tonight.” Fushiguro Megumi’s breath caught hard.
He whipped his head toward Uchiha Ayato, his eyes brimming with exasperation.
His look said it plainly— See?
I knew something would go wrong!
“Uchiha, let’s move!
If we rush over now, we might still make it in time!” Fushiguro Megumi spun around and strode for the exit in great, hurried steps.
Fushiguro’s reaction startled Itadori.
He turned to look at Uchiha Ayato, who had been the very picture of ease this whole time, and asked, puzzled: “What’s gotten into him?
Is peeling off the talisman really that dangerous?” “Mm, very dangerous indeed.” Uchiha Ayato nodded with conviction.
“If that talisman comes off, the cursed energy the thing gives off will draw in every Cursed Spirit for kilometers around.” “That high school is going to turn into hell tonight.” “Your senpai…
will most likely die.” Itadori Yuji: !!!
Itadori Yuji froze on the spot; the sheer flood of information made his brain crash for a moment.
“I’m coming too.” The next second he spoke up out of nowhere, the bewilderment in his eyes swept away by a firm, burning earnestness: “I’m the one who brought that thing back.
It’s my responsibility.” “Hey, this isn’t some club activity.” Fushiguro Megumi halted at the door and tossed back coldly over his shoulder: “That’s death—real, bloody death.” Meanwhile, Uchiha Ayato had likewise sunk deep into thought— This is bad.
It looks like Uncle Ayato has become the single biggest obstacle to Itadori Yuji’s character development.
He wasn’t Fushiguro Megumi, the type who could be cornered solo by a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit.
With him on the scene, how was Itadori Yuji ever going to be driven to a dead end and end up swallowing Sukuna’s finger?
No good—he had to find some way to bow out partway through.
As it happened, it seemed someone had been thinking along the exact same lines as Uchiha Ayato.
Just as Ayato was fretting over it, a boom suddenly rang out from the distant night sky, the blast’s glow staining over half the heavens red.
A surge of cursed energy—an extremely powerful surge of cursed energy.
And it was coming from the exact opposite direction of Sugisawa High, no less.
At a moment like this, you didn’t need anything more than your toes to figure out that someone was deliberately stirring up trouble.
Talk about being handed a pillow the very instant you start to nod off!
Uchiha Ayato rejoiced inwardly, though on the surface he put on a look of steely resolve.
He gave Itadori Yuji a shove toward Fushiguro Megumi, then declared with righteous gravity: “Fushiguro, you and Itadori go retrieve the Cursed Object—leave whatever’s over there to me!” With that, he didn’t even wait for the two of them to react.
He burst straight out the window, darting and weaving between the buildings, and in the blink of an eye he was gone.
Fushiguro Megumi: “?” Were this guy’s skills really that ridiculous?
Then, before all this…
Son of a—we got played!
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