Early morning. 6:30 AM.
"Morning~ morning~ morning! Kyoto Radio!"
"It's your favorite neighbor, Kai Harada, bringing you the broadcast again today. What a radiant morning it is! Let's kick off this beautiful day with a song..."
Kira Nanami pushed open the window of his apartment, letting the sunlight flood the room. Golden particles of light spilled across the pale blue curtains; as the morning breeze brushed past, the light seemed to sway in rhythm with the fabric.
He prepared a cup of hot cocoa for himself, pulled out a chair, and sat down, turning up the volume on the radio.
Spread across the table was the Kyoto Morning News, a subscription Kira ensured was delivered to his door daily. He adjusted himself into a comfortable posture, cradled his hot cocoa, and began to read.
"Shocking: Eighteen-year-old boy does THIS to his grandfather..."
"International Bulletin: Recent leadership transition within an Italian syndicate..."
"Life Hack of the Day: The best way to eat cherries! Even the Prime Minister approves."
"Unexplained explosion at idol fan event; suspected gas leak. Witnesses describe a middle-aged man looking like a blonde salaryman and a youth dressed like a delinquent speaking to thin air and striking 'bizarre, magical poses' amidst the chaos..."
"Unnamed youth claims to have seen a ghost."
Senseless noise, all of it. Kira checked his watch—6:40 AM. He drained the last of the cocoa and folded the paper.
"Lately, Kyoto's suicide rate continues to rise. Experts urge..." He clicked the radio off, stood up, and retrieved his suit from the rack.
Facing the mirror, he tied his necktie with surgical precision. Once satisfied, he donned his blue blazer, smoothing out every microscopic wrinkle. He fastened each button, one by one. After a final, lingering look at the man in the glass, he stepped into his shoes and departed.
As he passed the entryway, he reflexively grabbed his umbrella.
6:50 AM.
Time for work.
This was a new apartment, rented in a hurry. The location left much to be desired. It was situated near the red-light district, where the youth spent their nights in revelry, returning only at dawn as puddles of drunken misery. The tenants of the building were a motley crew from all walks of life.
It was an old complex without an elevator. Fortunately, Kira lived on the third floor; the descent was quick.
The stairwell was dim, plagued by poor natural lighting. One had to feel their way forward. Kira moved with his usual measured gait, one step per tread. As he rounded the corner of the second floor, he noticed an abnormality at a doorstep.
A faint fluctuation of Cursed Energy.
It was at the door of a tenant named Inoue—one of the few regulars who returned from the district in a state of total intoxication every morning.
The layout of Kyoto's pleasure district differed from others. There, they favored "L-shaped" stages where hostesses were stationed, ready to accompany a guest at a moment's notice.
The working class would gather there after their shifts. For four hundred yen, they could get a bottle of sake—or at least they could twenty years ago; now it was a thousand—and stand by the counter to rest.
If one were willing to part with ten thousand yen, they could hire a hostess or a host to serve as "side-dish" for their drink. For several hundred thousand, one might even sample the "main course." Most customers, however, were simple salarymen and lacked such extravagant means.
Inoue was the only salaryman Kira knew who consistently paid for the "main course," leaving a vivid impression.
Kira stared at a dark corner, frowning briefly before his expression softened.
Nothing troublesome.
Tucked into the shadows was a stack of green banknotes—Fukuzawa Yukichi's face staring up from the paper—bound with thread and radiating a weak, sinister aura.
Mouldy Money.
It was a low-level curse, a ritual even a civilian could perform. Based on folk superstition, one would take a cutting of their own hair, wash it with salt, and bind it with coins in red cloth or thread before dropping it at a crossroads. The theory was that the finder would inherit the dropper's misfortune. Scientifically and sorcerously, it was nonsense.
However, using paper money was different. Paper money was for the dead. Leaving it at a doorway was a dire taboo. The money itself lacked power, but it acted as a lure for Cursed Spirits. If picked up, the attracted spirit would latch onto the victim's back.
Most people wouldn't touch such suspicious cash, but Inoue likely would. His obsession with the district had left him a month behind on rent.
He must have offended someone... someone who knows his financial state.
Kira didn't care for the drama. He checked his watch. 6:55 AM. His shift hadn't started yet.
Therefore, it was not his problem.
However, considering the police would likely swarm the building if a gruesome incident occurred—leading to tedious questioning—Kira decided to intervene. He picked up the money and counted it. Three hundred thousand yen.
He nodded and continued downstairs.
The sun was bright. Kira needed to visit the school again. He hailed a taxi, and the trip from the city to the outskirts took thirty minutes.
He exited the car, paid the fare, and began the ascent up the sunlit stone steps.
As established, Kyoto Jujutsu High masqueraded as a religious institution, filled with various shrines and altars.
Passing a statue of the Buddha, Kira pulled out half of the three hundred thousand yen and dropped it into the merit box.
Whatever Cursed Spirit this money attracts, he thought, let it go head-to-head with the Tathagata.
Kira looked at the shimmering morning light and thought to himself:
I'm still not on the clock.