"As the saying goes, there are plenty of fish in the sea... Kira-kun, you need to look on the bright side."
"..."
"Every man goes through this. You know what they say—women are like clothes, but brothers are your flesh and blood."
"..."
"Kira-kun, why aren't you saying anything? Are you that heartbroken?"
"Gojo."
"What? You think I have a point?"
Kira told himself to stay calm. Maintain composure. Stay level-headed.
He steadied himself and said evenly:
"Let me go make you a cup of coffee. Sit tight."
"Oh my, how kind of you! You really shouldn't have."
Gojo didn't look the least bit sorry. He scratched his head, flopped onto the sofa, and crossed his legs.
Kira carried the cup to the kitchen. He rinsed the ceramic mug with warm water, then carefully wiped away every droplet with a tissue. That was the kind of man he was—meticulous. He would treat a guest with impeccable hospitality, exhibiting the most irreproachable etiquette.
After all, he was a mature adult.
He wouldn't stoop to pettiness.
Kira smiled as he set the spotless mug on the counter. He dried his hands, reached into the cabinet, and retrieved the half-can of special secret-recipe cat food left over from last night.
He poured it in. Added boiling water. Dissolved. Stirred.
Steam rose in lazy curls.
"Here you go."
"Much obliged." Gojo accepted the coffee, took a delicate sip, pursed his lips, leaned back thoughtfully, then took another sip.
"This coffee... how come it..."
"It's cat-shit coffee."
Cat food and dog shit.
"Oh, I see."
Gojo's brow relaxed slightly. He said hesitantly: "But something about the taste seems off..."
"Savor it."
"Really let it linger."
"Oh."
Gojo took another careful sip, smacked his lips, as if trying to appreciate the aftertaste.
"It still seems...?"
"That means your palate is terrible."
"Is that so? Where did you buy this?"
"Hand-ground it myself. I have a small bag left—want to take it home and practice?"
"Oh, I couldn't possibly..."
"Don't mention it. We're good friends."
Kira nodded earnestly. He glanced at his watch—8:00 AM sharp. Time to work. He continued:
"So what actually brings you here?"
"Oh, small thing."
Gojo set down the cup, legs still crossed, tone offhand:
"Yuji Itadori's had his execution suspended. I fought for it."
"Those stubborn old coots wouldn't budge. I think the jujutsu higher-ups need a complete overhaul."
Expected.
Kira knew Gojo well. The man was arrogant, dismissive of everyone, and determined to single-handedly reshape the entire jujutsu world—but had the strength to back every bit of it. In short, he was like a sea eagle.
No wave, no matter how towering, could stop it. Let the storms rage and the black clouds press—it sang at the top of its lungs, brimming with passion, soaring through the boundless sky with a "God is number two and I'm number one" swagger.
The polar opposite of Kira's temperament.
"And?"
"So I'd like you to whip him into shape. I'll be away on business."
"...That's not all, is it?"
"Uh."
Caught out, even Gojo looked slightly awkward. He shrugged helplessly:
"Okay, okay. I need you to cover my classes. The first-years—I want you to supervise them for a while."
"I just went through a breakup. I haven't recovered from the emotional damage yet."
Kira lied through his teeth with a straight face and a righteous tone.
"That's exactly why I spent all that time consoling you! Think about it—being a teacher is way cushier than running around exorcising Curses, right?"
"Due to my Heavenly Restriction, I have plenty of Cursed Energy but can't use any Cursed Techniques."
Kira said this calmly.
"Let's go with that—but there's no one in the world more suited for this than you."
Gojo flashed a knowing smile, tapping the coffee table with one finger. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"...Who are the students?"
"Here's the roster."
Kira took the leather-bound folder Gojo handed over and flipped through it casually:
Yuji Itadori. Right, he already knew about that one.
Megumi Fushiguro. The Zenin clan's kid.
Nobara Kugisaki. Hmm, nice hands in the photo.
And one more...
Hoshino Ei?
Strange name. Kira studied the photo of the white-haired, red-eyed girl and murmured it aloud.
And so it was settled.
After seeing Gojo off, it was nearly noon.
Kira fed Stray Cat. He didn't bother hiding it from Gojo—sorcerers keeping Cursed Spirits as pets was perfectly normal. Stray Cat, however, was furious that Gojo had stolen its food, hissing and flailing in the corner.
But the cowardly little spirit must have sensed that Gojo wasn't someone to mess with. It didn't fire any air bullets—just puffed itself up, widened its big cat eyes as far as they'd go, and glared with everything it had.
The moment Gojo left, it puffed up triumphantly, curled its two leaves behind its stem like arms akimbo, and stood tall with supreme self-satisfaction.
Teaching, then. Kira didn't mind the profession. He respected teachers.
But having him instruct students... weren't they worried about what he might produce?
Kira had always believed himself to be perfectly normal and had always pursued a quiet life. But he was self-aware enough to know he differed from other people in certain ways.
Not that it mattered.
At least he'd get off work earlier than usual.
Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.
Similar to Kyoto Jujutsu High, it was disguised as a religious vocational school. Shrines and temple halls dotted the grounds. The midsummer sun blazed mercilessly, bouncing off bronze bells in blinding flashes. The cicadas had fully emerged, their ragged chorus promising to last the entire summer.
Dappled sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, scattering across the ground in shifting constellations. A breeze stirred the canopy, and the spots of light blinked along with it.
"My name is Nanami Kira. I live in the villa district of northeastern Tokyo. I'm thirty-three years old. I currently work at an ordinary company. I clock out at eight every evening. I don't smoke. I drink only in moderation."
"Before bed, I always drink a glass of warm milk, then do twenty minutes of stretching. I sleep eight hours a night. The moment I hit the pillow, I'm out. I never carry fatigue into the next day."
"Also, overtime is shit. That is all."
Kira wrote his name on the blackboard. Every stroke was ruler-straight, every character evenly spaced—you could've mistaken it for print.
"Nanami-sensei!"
Itadori raised his hand, puzzled. "How come our class only has me and Fushiguro?"
"Because being a jujutsu sorcerer is shit. Nobody wants to be shit. So the school can't recruit. So enrollment is low."
Teacher Nanami Kira patiently answered Itadori's question.
"Sensei, are you saying me and Fushiguro are shit?"
"That's precisely the purpose of education. Even if you're shit, you should strive to be the cream of the shit—the finest jujutsu sorcerers there are."
Teacher Nanami Kira answered Itadori's question with eloquence. Then he added:
"It's not just you two. Two female students haven't arrived yet."
The moment he finished, the wooden door slid open with a soft click.