How do you prove that you are yourself?
Yes—how can anyone prove they are who they claim to be?
It is a philosophical question. Since the first flickers of consciousness, humanity has grappled with it: Who am I? How does one distinguish the self from the not-self? How does one separate mind from matter?
For Nanami Kira, this was a fatal weakness.
If he was not Nanami Kira, then every advantage his identity afforded him would vanish like smoke. The sorcerers who supported him would have no reason to support him any longer.
If he were Hasegawa Kaede, then motive, means, opportunity—everything snapped neatly into place. Everything could be explained.
And why couldn't he be Hasegawa Kaede?
Betrayed. For all manner of trivial, tedious reasons—betrayed.
But Nanami Kira had never placed expectations on humanity. Never asked anything of them. No joy, no sorrow—and so, nothing to lose.
He simply felt tired, from the very bottom of his heart. He sighed.
"Principal Gakuganji." Naoya Zenin, kneeling off to one side, had clearly perked up. He straightened his back ever so slightly. "Why would you say such a thing?"
"Because it is the most logical deduction. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once said: eliminate all incorrect possibilities, and whatever remains—however absurd—must be the truth."
Gakuganji's eyes narrowed to slits. The rings of earrings lining his ear rims and eye sockets caught the candlelight and threw it back in irritating flashes.
"I do, of course, believe that Kira-kun is a good man. A sorcerer who would work himself to the bone for humanity's survival. One who would never—could never—commit something so deranged as the massacre of civilians. I know him."
Yes. Nanami Kira's lack of motive was the very reason both the conservatives and the two schools had believed in him.
But what if he wasn't Nanami Kira?
"What if he isn't Kira-kun? What if he is, in fact, the Special Grade curse user who nearly destroyed Kyoto a month ago—Hasegawa Kaede?"
The things Nanami Kira could never do, Hasegawa Kaede would. Because Kaede was deranged. Irrational. A curse user through and through. And curse users slaughtering civilians? That was perfectly reasonable.
Nanami Kira kept his head bowed, watching the tea leaves floating on the surface of his cup. Rising. Sinking.
Gakuganji swept his gaze around the room, then let it settle on Kira. His voice was heavy. "Kira-kun. You yourself brought this matter to my attention a month ago, did you not?"
"Satoru Gojo was ambushed on the road by two Special Grade Cursed Spirits. One of them happened to be called Hanami—who happened to have served under Hasegawa Kaede. From this, we can conclude that he was colluding with Special Grade curses."
"And from there, a connection to the Special Grade Cursed Spirit you mentioned—the one capable of reshaping humans—follows as naturally as water flowing downhill."
Kira set down his cup and raised his head, meeting Gakuganji's eyes directly. "If I truly were Hasegawa Kaede, why would I have told you about Hanami?"
Gakuganji's white brows drooped, concealing half his eye sockets. "Because you knew we'd find out eventually. Telling us early only served to reduce the suspicion on yourself."
"You once said that you trust no one. That anyone could be a wolf in sheep's clothing. Well—if it could be anyone, then why couldn't that wolf be you?"
"And what would my purpose be? Why would I warn you about Hasegawa Kaede's existence? What would I gain?"
Kira asked, his tone flat.
"Because you wanted to plant seeds of doubt among our leadership." Gakuganji's partially hidden pupils glinted. "So that we would suspect one another. Tear each other apart. So we could never reach a unified decision again."
"You want the jujutsu world to fracture from within. It would make your future moves that much easier."
"You did it all to protect Sukuna's vessel. Your goal, from the very beginning, has only ever been one thing: the resurrection of the King of Curses!"
Dead silence. The room fell into an eerie hush, as though plunging into an abyss ten thousand meters deep.
Outside, the rain had begun. Thunder rolled. Half a sky's worth of pent-up water came crashing down at once, striking branches, slipping through gaps between roof tiles, hammering against mountain stone—a relentless, all-consuming drumroll.
The sky blinked, and just like that, another rainy season had arrived.
Yuji Itadori's lips were dry. He couldn't quite get the words out. He stared blankly at the silent Nanami Kira and squeezed a sound from his throat: "Kira-sensei, is it true?"
Kira didn't acknowledge Itadori. He addressed Gakuganji: "Evidence?"
"Why couldn't the person speaking right now—you—be Hasegawa Kaede?"
Anyone could be Hasegawa Kaede. Anyone could not be. Good and evil reside in every heart; the devil hides in every soul. A person must spend their entire life watching every word, weighing every step—living like a plant.
One wrong move, and you're branded a demon.
"You are the most likely candidate. Because if it's true, everything connects."
Sometimes, proving who someone really is will always be a false premise.
But proving who someone resembles—that is simple.
The tragedy is that people, unable to achieve the former, adopt the latter as their standard. They mistake resemblance for identity. Because they can never reach the truth, they enshrine the conclusion that most closely resembles truth as fact—and congratulate themselves for it.
So foolish. So arrogant.
"Evidence?" Kira asked again.
"According to Todo's account, after you 'defeated' Hasegawa Kaede, he lost consciousness. It was some time before the academy's sorcerers returned to the school."
"In between, there was a full ten minutes—completely unmonitored."
Gakuganji raised his head slightly, revealing one dry, bloodshot eye. It stared at Kira like the eye of a corpse.
"The soul is a subtle, nearly invisible thing. How can we know that the one defeated that day was Hasegawa Kaede—and not Nanami Kira?"
"Hasegawa Kaede defeated Nanami Kira. His soul invaded his body. Then he staged a performance—the hero vanquishing the villain—and slipped away with the Arrow. That is entirely plausible."
"And afterward, you continued playing the role of Nanami Kira. Stoking conflict. Cultivating your own power base. Deliberately refusing the Special Grade promotion to win hearts and minds. Then, this week, you conspired with an unknown Special Grade Cursed Spirit to carry out a massacre."
"Your earlier proposal—to personally apprehend the spirit and prove your innocence—was utter nonsense! Assign inspectors to monitor you? With your ability to devour souls, those inspectors would become your puppets in no time."
He paused, tilting his head to look at Kira.
"So, Kira-kun—why couldn't you be Hasegawa Kaede?"
The rain outside grew louder.
Kira looked at Gakuganji. He looked at Hoshino Ei among the crowd. She smiled at him gently, like a flower in summer, like a sea of stars on a summer night.
"You're Yu Po? Chou Fei?"
Kira murmured.
Hoshino Ei had lied to him. Naming herself after the "Ei" among the Seven Po, claiming to be a fusion of a severed hand and a vengeful spirit—it was a lie. A complete and utter lie.
She was nothing more than a hand that had gained sentience. Nothing more than a Cursed Spirit formed from a dead curse user's lingering resentment. She had no connection to Yu Po whatsoever.
The real Yu Po had been inside Yoshinobu Gakuganji all along.
All along.
When he thanked Kira for saving his life. When he nominated Kira for Special Grade. When he held that secret meeting with Kira and Gojo. All along.
Acting. The whole time.
So the play that had begun in Kyoto had never ended after all.
Everyone was an actor. Everyone was performing. Every emotion was fake. Every joy and sorrow a fabrication. True communication between people simply didn't exist. Everyone was an island.
Everyone was an island.
The Po depends on the physical body; when the body dies, the Po dies with it. But Gakuganji was an exception—his soul had long since been devoured by Hasegawa Kaede, leaving behind an empty shell.
Gakuganji had once fallen into a coma for two days, then "miraculously" awoke. That coma must have been when the wandering Yu Po took possession.
"Nanami Kira—no, Hasegawa Kaede. Do you have anything else to say?"
Jinichi Zenin's face was dark, his voice ice-cold.
Every eye in the room turned to Kira. Silent gazes passed judgment.
Unlike before, no one spoke in his defense this time.
Yuji Itadori opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Megumi Fushiguro beside him reached out and stopped him. Fushiguro had been watching Kira in silence.
"Go. Now."
Fushiguro spoke quietly.
"Huh?"
"Run. Take everyone and run. Something's wrong—whether Kira really is Hasegawa Kaede or not, run."
His pupils contracted slightly. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He whispered: "Run, run... every one of my shikigami is trembling. They're all terrified. It's exactly the same as... the last time I saw Sukuna!"
"You lowly curse user. Have you anything left to say?"
Naoya Zenin naturally wouldn't pass up this opportunity. At such a critical juncture in the race for clan heir, with so many of the jujutsu world's leaders in attendance, he had to establish his authority.
Hasegawa Kaede was the perfect target. A Special Grade curse user, yes, but one whose combat ability wasn't particularly strong—otherwise he wouldn't have relied on a diversion to infiltrate the Pavilion instead of confronting the Kyoto school's sorcerers head-on.
In an instant, he'd already weighed the pros and cons.
"Hasegawa Kaede. You orchestrated the Kyoto Cursed Plague. You engineered the hundred-victim massacre."
Jinichi Zenin let out a cold laugh. That eerie scar of his looked all the more vicious twisted into that grotesque smile. He waved a hand dismissively.
"Mongrel."
"I once imagined that things could be resolved peacefully, because I despise conflict."
Kira raised his head. His voice was soft.
"Conflict is the most tedious thing in the world. But it seems I really shouldn't have placed so much hope in people."
"I've been holding back."
He braced himself against the cushion, his detached gaze drifting over every face in the room—over the furious crowd, the righteous sorcerers, those sanctimonious expressions one after another. They were all so eager to tear him apart, the better to trumpet their own justice, validate their own righteousness, celebrate their own virtue. In his ears: wind, rain, the laughter and curses and jeers of the crowd. In his eyes: human faces, demon faces, the bestial faces of the self-righteous. And Kira smiled.
His gaze came to rest, finally, on Hoshino Ei. He spoke quietly.
"Is this what you wanted?"
I'm going to destroy your peaceful life. I'm going to change everything about you.
To make sure he could never be Nanami Kira again. To force him into becoming Hasegawa Kaede.
"You wanted to see my true face that badly?"
"You wanted to make me angry that badly?"
"Hasegawa Kaede, how dare you!" Gakuganji's voice cracked like a whip, his shadowed pupils flaring with frigid light.
"My name is Nanami Kira. I am thirty-three years old. But now, I can also be Hasegawa Kaede."
He cracked his knuckles one by one, gaze lowered, voice flat.
"I long for a quiet life. I believe the goddess of fortune stands on my side. I believe I will find lasting happiness."
"That is why I have endured. To this day, I have not killed a single sorcerer who tried to hunt me. Not out of goodness—only because I wanted a quiet life. That is why I have endured. I accepted your insults, sat here like a beaten dog submitting to your judgment. Not because I have a mild temper—only because I wanted a quiet life. That is why I have endured. I volunteered for your oversight, worked overtime, exorcised Cursed Spirits. Not because I'm some uncomplaining workhorse—only because I wanted a quiet life."
"Hasegawa Kaede!"
Kira smiled, sweeping his gaze over every face in the hall. Each one he committed to memory. Each one he immediately forgot.
"Unfortunately, I have failed."
"But I still want a quiet life. I despise being hunted. Despise living like a fugitive."
"So I came up this mountain with two objectives. Either to clear my name—or..."
He paused. His voice settled.
"Everyone present is among the elites assigned to hunt me down, yes? All gathered here in one place."
"Saves me the trouble of tracking you down one by one."
ゴゴゴゴゴ
ゴ!ゴ!
"If I kill all of you, there'll be no one left to hunt me. No more hiding."
"I already extended my goodwill. Since we cannot understand each other—"
"Mongrel! Stray-dog bastard!"
Jinichi Zenin hurled his ceramic cup to the ground. Shards flew as he surged to his feet, Cursed Energy roiling across his body. "You think you can escape?"
"You think..."
His voice trailed off. His Cursed Energy faded. He looked down at his own chest in disbelief.
A hole the size of a rice bowl gaped there. His shattered heart twitched faintly inside it.
The spraying blood looked like blossoming flowers. That crimson heart was the most vivid bud of all.
It turned out that Kira had ordered Stray Cat to push an air bomb against Jinichi's chest the moment he'd walked through the door. He simply hadn't detonated it until now.
In the final instant of death, the final instant before consciousness ceased, Jinichi stared at Kira in disbelief.
At his calm expression. At his detached eyes. At the wind and rain behind him. At the mountains and sea veiled in storm.
He heard Kira's last words:
"Then we'll just have to curse each other. Sorcerers."