"Its body is dark yellow-black. Like a dart yet not a dart, like an arrow yet not an arrow. It thirsts for human blood..."
"Marked with insect-like patterns, akin to a ladybug..."
Insect patterns?
Like a ladybug?
That didn't match the Arrow in his possession at all.
Kira's interest sharpened. He held his breath and read on.
"It thirsts for human blood. First recorded in the Nara period. Marked with insect-like patterns, akin to a ladybug. Of foreign origin—"
"Foreign origin..."
He turned the page—and found nothing.
The text simply ended.
There's... nothing after this?
Kira's eyes widened slightly. Even his usual still-water composure was stirred—ripples spreading, swelling, building into crashing waves.
Slowly, the waves coalesced into a single emotion: anger.
This—this is a cliffhanger?!
He refused to accept it. He kept turning pages, one after another. The entries that followed were mostly unofficial histories and curiosities. References to curses grew sparser and sparser, replaced by irrelevant material—foreign customs, geographical oddities, travelogues.
Included among them were passages such as:
"The women of the great Tang are full-figured—skin like congealed fat, graceful in bearing, with arched brows and plump cheeks. Warm as fragrant jade. Most pleasing."
"The women of Goryeo tend toward the willowy—delicate of complexion, smooth of skin. Most pleasing."
"The courtesans of Ryūkyū are fair as lotuses upon a distant peak. Every frown and every smile, slender of waist and supple of form. Exceedingly pleasing."
"The imperial nobility favor male performers—strikingly handsome, all of them. Pleasing in the extreme."
Kira closed the book, his expression dark.
The text mentioned the great Tang, which placed it no earlier than the Nara period—710 to 794 AD—when Japan first established formal relations with the Tang dynasty. The capital at Heijō-kyō had been modeled after Chang'an itself.
During that era, following Jianzhen's voyage east, Japan had dispatched numerous envoys to the Tang court. The author of this book had very likely been among them.
Kira checked the colophon. A faded red seal was still partially legible, and from the dim impression he could make out a name:
Monk Manyō.
A monk, then. Well—Japanese monks were allowed to keep female company. Male company too, apparently.
The geographic journal had no title. Kira decided to call it The Pleasure Quarter Review Guide.
Foreign origin... Tang dynasty... Goryeo—or somewhere else entirely?
The Arrow wasn't originally found in Japan?
To learn more about the Arrow—or to find another one—would he need to go abroad?
This Pleasure Quarter Review Guide was only a fragmentary volume. The relevant pages had likely been lost to damage during storage. The information about a second Arrow was almost certainly on the missing leaves.
He'd check the other two families of the Big Three later.
Regardless, it was time to leave.
Kira tucked the book away, pulled up his hood, and fitted the skin mask back over his face. Killer Queen vanished at his feet.
Outside, the estate was in an uproar. News of the two heirs' disappearance had detonated like a bomb, sending the entire Zenin Clan into a frenzy. Sorcerers poured out of every building. Tracking shikigami and Cursed Spirits were unleashed alongside them.
The grounds had ceased to be the domain of the living. Spirits and phantoms coursed through the courtyards; the clamor sounded ready to tear the night sky apart.
In an instant the entire mountaintop blazed with light, startling nightingales from their perches.
Kira slipped along the corridors, suppressing every trace of cursed energy. Killer Queen had reduced both targets to ash—not a shred of their cursed-energy signature lingered on him. Those tracking spirits wouldn't find him easily.
Still not safe enough. Better set a fire.
Retracing his route, he silently dispatched the guards at the entrance and descended the mountain.
Behind him, the estate roared with flame. Heavy black smoke smothered the sky like ten thousand crows roosting on the heavens.
The compound that had stood for nearly a millennium—Kira had burned it to the ground in a single night.
A thousand years of glory and noble legacy, reduced to cinders.
The next day.
News of the attack on the Zenin Clan spread like wildfire through the jujutsu world.
Like a bomb dropped into a still lake—the shockwaves were enormous.
Masamichi Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose, then let out another heavy sigh. He turned to the trembling Kiyotaka Ijichi beside him.
"Any word?"
"N-no. Kira-kun seems to have vanished. And the Zenin Clan keeps pressuring the academy..."
"This is absurd!"
Another sigh, even heavier than the last.
Hoshino Ei pressed her back against the other side of the door, eavesdropping. Concealment wrapped tightly around her, hiding her from sight.
What... what on earth happened...?
Huh?
Each new sentence earned another huh.
"Has the Zenin Clan actually confirmed that Nanami Kira's cursed-energy traces were at the scene?"
"Y-yes."
Huh?
"The academy sent a team to verify?"
"Mei Mei led the inspection personally. It's confirmed—it's Kira-kun's."
Huh?
"He killed Jinichi Zenin and Naoya Zenin out of nowhere? That's impossible!"
"But it's true..."
"And he set a fire?"
"Y-yes."
"What was his motive?"
"Apparently he took a book from the Zenin archive. According to the clan head's description, the contents were... rather salacious."
Yaga sucked in a sharp breath. He felt like his lungs were about to explode.
Behind the door, the hand spirit also sucked in a sharp breath. Her lungs felt ready to explode too.
"You're joking. A Semi-Special Grade sorcerer assassinated Zenin heirs, set the estate on fire overnight—all to steal a dirty book?"
"I-it might only be one of his objectives... Something he grabbed on the side?"
"Investigate. Immediately!"
Huhhhh.
Hoshino Ei finally exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Her porcelain face was drained of color, her delicate brows knotted tight.
What is going on with this world... She suddenly couldn't make sense of anything.
It had all been planned. A flawless plan.
Step one: Mahito massacres the cinema. The higher-ups suspect Kira. Through her planted mole in the hierarchy, Kira gets detained for three or four days. The academy dispatches students to investigate the cinema incident.
Step two: While Kira's locked up, Mahito transforms the residents of the neighborhood around Kira's home into monsters. Then Hoshino Ei herself provokes Kira—she might lose a life in the process, but that's fine. Pain didn't scare her.
Step three: Kira breaks out. The Crow Town residential massacre gets pinned on him. The entire jujutsu world issues a warrant. Kira becomes an enemy of the world.
From there, based on everything she knew about him—if conflict became unavoidable, Nanami Kira would not leave behind enemies who'd rob him of sleep. He'd most likely slaughter the higher-ups and every last person sent to hunt him down.
Step by step, she'd drive him into absolute despair. And then—steal his Arrow. Plunge it into his chest. That was the intelligence she'd received after being struck by the Arrow herself.
If she was lucky, she might even survive the whole thing. She didn't ask for much. Just one life left over. That would be enough. Wouldn't that be wonderful?
But why had the plan completed itself before it even started?!
How had Nanami Kira spontaneously jumped to step two on his own?
Did the man have some kind of self-destructive autopilot?
It was supposed to be a perfect plan!
Summer blazed overhead. Hoshino Ei leaned against the wall, her beautiful eyes swimming with bewilderment.
She was barely a month old. Just a newborn. How was the world this complicated already?
She'd already rehearsed the perfect line for the next time she saw Kira: "I'm the person who understands you best in the whole world."
It would have been an instant affection boost. For sure.
But now? She couldn't make heads or tails of what he was doing.
For a dirty book? Got caught, so he killed them to cover his tracks?
A Comprehensive Guide to Nail Art would've been way more up Kira's alley...
She couldn't figure it out.
She couldn't figure it out. It was too hard.
Under the scorching sun, a one-month-old hand spirit lost her dream.