Ray sat on the concrete steps outside the orphanage, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them.
Dust clung to his clothes. Dried blood—his, not all of it—darkened the cuffs of his sleeves. Somewhere behind him, voices murmured. Children being ushered inside. Windows closing. Life retreating from the place where it had almost ended.
He didn't turn around.
The night air was cold, but he barely felt it.
The curse was gone.
That was the problem.
The image replayed in his mind no matter how hard he tried to stop it—the way it had hesitated, the way its shape had faltered when it looked at him, the way it had crumbled not with rage… but relief.
It's over, he told himself.
But the hollow feeling in his chest didn't fade.
Someone approached, footsteps hurried and uneven.
"Ray?"
Ms. Aoyama's voice was soft, strained with effort. She stopped in front of him, unsure whether to kneel or stand, hands clasped tightly together.
"You shouldn't be sitting out here," she said gently. "You'll catch a cold."
Ray didn't answer right away.
"I'm fine," he said eventually.
It wasn't meant to reassure her. It was just the first thing that came out.
She crouched down in front of him anyway, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were red. She'd been crying—probably while making sure no one else did.
"You were very brave today," she said. "Anyone would be frightened after something like that."
Ray's fingers twitched.
Frightened.
If only that was what this was.
"I wasn't scared," he said quietly.
Ms. Aoyama smiled sadly. "You don't need to pretend. It's okay to be afraid."
Ray looked past her, toward the empty street where the curse had stood.
"I should've ended it sooner," he said. "If I had… no one would've had to see it."
Ms. Aoyama frowned. "Ray, you saved everyone."
He shook his head.
"I didn't save enough."
She reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You did what you could."
The words didn't reach him.
Another presence entered the space—calm, measured, heavy in a way that pressed down without effort.
"I'll need a moment with the boy."
The voice was neutral. Professional.
Ms. Aoyama turned sharply. "He's not going anywhere."
Nanami Kento stood a few steps away, hands at his sides, suit jacket slightly dusted from debris. His expression didn't change.
"I won't detain him," Nanami said. "I only need to ask a few questions."
She stepped subtly in front of Ray. "He's exhausted. And he's a child."
Ray stood up.
Both of them looked at him.
"It's okay," he said. "I can answer."
Ms. Aoyama hesitated. "Ray—"
"I'll be right here," he added. "Please. Look after the others."
She searched his face, mistaking the tightness in his expression for fear.
"…Alright," she said reluctantly. "But I'm not far."
When she stepped away, the weight of the moment settled fully.
Nanami didn't speak at first.
He observed Ray in silence.
"My name is Nanami Kento," he said finally. "I am a jujutsu sorcerer."
Ray nodded. He already knew. Canon knowledge sat like a blade behind his ribs.
"And you are?" Nanami asked.
"…Ray Star."
Nanami repeated it once. "Ray."
Then, without easing into it, "You understand that what you witnessed today was a cursed spirit."
Ray nodded. "Yes."
Nanami's gaze sharpened slightly. "You say that without hesitation."
Ray realized his mistake too late.
"I mean—I figured," he corrected quickly. "After seeing it."
Nanami didn't respond immediately.
"Most civilians cannot perceive curses," Nanami said. "Even fewer can sense their presence clearly."
Ray's heart began to race.
"And yet," Nanami continued, "you reacted before anyone else."
Ray clenched his jaw.
Nanami adjusted his glasses. "When the curse was exorcised, what did you feel?"
Ray swallowed.
This mattered.
"…Relief," he said. "Like it was finished."
Nanami nodded slowly.
Then Ray said the wrong thing.
"…It felt familiar."
The air shifted.
Nanami straightened, just slightly.
"Familiar," he repeated.
Ray's stomach dropped.
"I don't know why," Ray said quickly. "I just—when it hesitated, it felt like it recognized something."
Nanami studied him closely.
"A curse does not recognize people," he said. "It reacts to cursed energy."
Ray looked down, guilt flooding him harder than fear ever could.
Nanami continued, "This incident coincides precisely with your presence."
Ray nodded. "I know."
Nanami paused. "You don't deny responsibility."
Ray shook his head. "I lived. It didn't."
Nanami exhaled slowly.
"There are protocols for incidents like this," he said. "Ordinarily, I would report everything directly to headquarters."
Ray's hands tightened.
"Ordinarily," Nanami continued, "I would also request immediate intervention."
Ray looked up. "Intervention?"
Nanami hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
"There is… another option," he said. "One that involves consulting Satoru Gojo."
Ray's breath caught.
Gojo.
Canon screamed warnings in his head.
Nanami looked away briefly. "That decision is not yours to make."
Ray nodded. "I understand."
Nanami met his gaze again. "For now, I require your cooperation."
Ray didn't hesitate.
"I'll come with you," he said.
Nanami studied him carefully. "You are not concerned about what happens next."
Ray shook his head.
"I'm concerned about what already happened."
Nanami said nothing.
Finally, "Then follow me."
As they walked away from the orphanage steps, Ray glanced back once.
Ms. Aoyama was watching from the doorway, worry etched into her face.
Ray looked away.
At this moment, survival didn't matter to him.
Only whether the world would decide he was a mistake…
…or something worse.
....
Nanami Kento walked a few steps behind the boy, far enough to observe, close enough to intervene.
Ray did not look back.
That, more than anything else, unsettled him.
Nanami had seen fear before—raw, paralyzing fear that made people cling to authority, to safety, to excuses. Children especially. In the world of jujutsu, fear was common. Expected.
What he saw now was not fear.
It was weight.
A child, Nanami thought, adjusting his grip on his tie.And yet…
In this line of work, the distinction had always been meaningless.
Cursed energy did not care about age.Neither did cause and effect.
If a phenomenon occurred, it occurred for a reason.If someone was at the center of it, intent mattered less than outcome.
That was the rule.
And yet—
Nanami's gaze flicked to Ray again. The boy's shoulders were tense, posture rigid, as though he were bracing for something that had already happened. He wasn't asking questions. Wasn't protesting. Wasn't afraid of what came next.
That was wrong.
A civilian child should be frightened right now, Nanami thought.He should be asking to go back. He should be crying.
Instead, he walked like someone accepting a sentence.
Nanami disliked that.
He disliked it because he understood it.
In jujutsu society, being a child did not absolve you.But it also did not excuse adults from responsibility.
Nanami stopped walking.
Ray halted immediately.
Disciplined. Too disciplined.
Nanami closed his eyes briefly.
Ordinarily, he thought, this would be simple.
A report to headquarters.Containment.Observation.If necessary—disposal.
No hesitation.
That was how the system survived.
But this case…
A semi–special grade curse appearing without buildup.A boy who could perceive it.Cursed energy that felt misaligned—not wrong, but displaced.
And then there were the words Ray had used.
Familiar.
Nanami exhaled slowly through his nose.
That alone was enough to justify escalation.
Headquarters would not investigate gently. They never did. They would see the cause and eliminate it, regardless of context.
Nanami opened his eyes.
Is that acceptable? he asked himself.
The answer, by regulation, was yes.
By conscience—
Nanami reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.
There was one variable that complicated everything.
Satoru Gojo.
Nanami disliked involving him. Intensely.
Gojo disrupted procedures, ignored hierarchies, and treated the system like a suggestion rather than law. He protected anomalies not because it was efficient—but because he could.
That irritated Nanami.
Which was precisely why Gojo was dangerous.
And necessary.
If this boy is what I think he might be, Nanami reasoned, then headquarters is the worst possible first response.
Gojo, at the very least, would look before deciding.
Nanami's thumb hovered over the contact.
He sighed.
"…Troublesome," he muttered.
Then he pressed call.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then—
"Nanamiiii~" Gojo's voice burst through the speaker, cheerful and entirely inappropriate for the hour. "Wow, you never call me first. Is this a confession? Because I'm flattered, but—"
Nanami closed his eyes.
"This is not a social call," he said flatly.
"Aww, and here I was getting my hopes up," Gojo replied. "So? What disaster are you knee-deep in?"
Nanami glanced once at Ray, who stood quietly a few steps away, eyes lowered.
"A complicated one," Nanami said. "Involving a child."
There was a brief pause on the line.
Short.
Barely noticeable.
"…That already sounds like paperwork," Gojo said lightly.
Nanami tightened his grip on the phone.
"There was an incident," he continued. "A curse manifestation that does not align with standard patterns. The boy was present at its origin."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"I see," Gojo said, tone still casual—but sharper beneath it. "And HQ?"
"They are not informed yet."
That earned him a soft chuckle. "Ohhh, Nanami. You're already breaking the rules for me?"
Nanami's jaw tightened.
"I haven't decided what to do," he said. "Which is why I'm calling."
Gojo was quiet now.
Nanami took a breath.
"…I need a favor."
The line went silent.
And somewhere on the other end, Satoru Gojo stopped smiling.