Done Again.
That was the name of this bomb.
Unlike every bomb Nanami Kira had created before, this newborn ability was a time bomb.
A time bomb.
Less a bomb, really, and more a concept.
It couldn't be planted on a person. For now it existed solely within Kira's soul—meaning it couldn't be placed in any physical location, only set at a specific point in time. An ordinary bomb was three-dimensional. Done Again was four-dimensional. It was an object that existed within the river of time itself.
What it detonated was time.
The maximum timer could be set to thirty days. The minimum was three. Anywhere in between was freely adjustable.
After each detonation, thirty-five days had to pass before a new bomb could be created.
It could only be planted at a specific moment, never a specific place.
For example: if Kira planted the bomb on December 21st and set the timer to one month, then thirty days later—on January 20th—the bomb planted at the December 21st temporal coordinate would detonate.
The timeline would be severed at December 21st, blown apart at the seam.
To put it simply: imagine time as a river, flowing forward. December 21st sits upstream; January 20th, a month later, sits downstream. When the current reaches the downstream point, the time-bomb planted upstream detonates. The river is blown apart. No more water flows past the break. The downstream channel becomes an abandoned riverbed.
Everything after December 21st becomes a discarded timeline—a future that never happened.
And Nanami Kira would carry the full month of memories back to the exact moment the bomb was planted.
Because fate could not be changed, anyone who died during those thirty days would die again in the new thirty days—at the same time, in the same way.
Once planted, the bomb could not be modified or disarmed. Only when the timer expired could Kira choose whether to detonate the "past" and obliterate the "present."
Killer Queen's new bomb ability was staggeringly powerful. Through it, Kira could gather up to thirty days' worth of intelligence about the future. He could also use that window to kill anyone he wanted dead but couldn't conveniently reach—then detonate the bomb and reset the timeline.
Of course, Done Again was not invincible. If someone killed Kira before the detonation, all consequences of the bomb would vanish.
And once planted, the bomb couldn't be adjusted or canceled mid-countdown.
That meant a longer timer wasn't always better. If Kira encountered a supremely dangerous enemy or situation, he might be killed before the countdown even reached zero.
But set the timer too short, and he wouldn't have enough time to gather adequate intelligence or achieve his objectives—and then he'd have to wait thirty-five days before he could plant the next one. The future wouldn't reset or change.
So choosing the right detonation window was the most critical decision of all.
Kira tapped a finger against his chin, thinking. His expression was perfectly calm.
Warm sunlight spilled across his shoulders. The lazy afternoon was serene, motes of dust drifting through the air—flakes loosened from the crumbling walls, catching the light as they tumbled.
Outside: a cacophony of voices, startled shouts, and the distant wail of sirens. Someone had called the police.
Gojo was away on assignment. He wouldn't be back for nearly ten days. Kira had no interest in a direct confrontation with him.
Not out of cowardice. He simply despised conflict.
He made his decision.
Four days. He was confident he could resolve everything in four.
A lot of people were going to die in those four days.
The door exploded inward.
Jujutsu sorcerers from the academy poured through, expressions grim, fanning out to surround him with the urgency of soldiers breaching an enemy position.
Their leader wore a black baseball cap. Black shirt, black pants. Couldn't have been much older than his mid-twenties.
Kira recognized him.
The moment the man saw Kira, his eyes went wide with shock. He snapped to attention, back ramrod-straight, and bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
"Good afternoon, Nanami-senpai!"
...It was his fanboy.
"Grade 2 Jujutsu Sorcerer... Inoshishi Takuma, was it?"
"Sir! My name is Ino Takuma, sir!"
"Right. Inoshishi-san."
"...What a wonderful name. Thank you for the honor, Kira-senpai! From now on I'll go by Inoshishi Takuma—I'll charge through every mission like a wild boar, fierce and unstoppable! I won't let you down!"
I don't have any expectations for you to let down...
Kira sighed inwardly, shook his head, and said quietly:
"There was a Cursed Spirit attack here."
By the time the cinema incident was processed and all the paperwork filed, it was two in the afternoon.
Kira ate lunch at a nearby restaurant. No matter how critical the situation, three meals a day were non-negotiable. That was his principle.
He had killed Mahito. That was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it eliminated a dangerous nuisance ahead of schedule. On the other, it had unquestionably spooked the enemy. Geto's side would be far more cautious now, and Kira still had no idea where they were hiding.
Moreover, killing Mahito had massively altered the future. His information advantage might no longer exist.
As for Hoshino Ei—leave her alone for now. Let them do whatever they wanted.
Kira tallied gains and losses in his mind. He was an ordinary adult who excelled at reflection and self-assessment.
Though lately, he wasn't feeling much like a dutiful, uncomplaining salaryman anymore.
As he'd once said:
"Since I can't accept his 'goodwill,' and we can't understand each other, then all that's left is to curse one another."
And once Nanami Kira's curse began, it would never stop. It would cling to them forever.
Until death.
Every last one of them who'd tried to steal his peaceful life would jolt awake in the dead of night, haunted by his name.
A lot of people were going to die. All those arrogant, highborn bastards sitting at the far end of their long tables, convinced they had him under their thumb—a lot of them were going to die.
Kira despised conflict. It drained a person's energy, left nothing but emptiness.
He despised it, but he wouldn't lose to anyone.
Click.
A sound like something engaging—or maybe nothing at all.
He blinked. Looked at the world again. Something felt different, yet nothing had changed.
The ocean was still impossibly blue, murmuring as it lapped the shore. The sun was still blazing. Summer cicadas droned on and on. A few sparrows had nested among the birch leaves—layers of green canopy interrupted by small brown clumps that looked like someone had dabbed paint between the branches.
Everything was serene. Everything was beautiful. Everything was hollow.
The moment Kira planted the bomb, all of it ceased to matter. The future no longer existed.
August 21st, Monday, 2:30 PM. Nanami Kira planted the bomb.
He stood, paid the bill, and checked his watch. The afternoon was slipping away.
Walking into the sun, Kira moved forward—expression calm, stride steady. As he turned a street corner, he murmured, seemingly to himself:
"Come out."
"Hehe, Kira-sensei spotted me already?"
A girl with white hair and crimson eyes poked her head around the other side of the street, with her tongue sticking out.