Jujutsu Kaisen: I Can Manipulate Time.

They arrived safely at Yaga Shrine. The shrine was a small, family-run place, passed down for two generations. It was modest in size, enshrining a local deity unnamed in legends.

Today, the shrine served mostly as a quiet retreat for nature lovers, its pristine surroundings drawing visitors. Occasionally, it offered lodging to travelers passing through.

Kamihara Hajime walked alongside the seven men and women toward the shrine's torii gate. Under the gentle moonlight, the weathered torii stood mid-path. Its vermilion paint had peeled away in places, revealing cracks from years of standing firm. It bore silent witness, reminding all who passed that the domain beyond belonged to the divine, and respect was owed to those who guarded it.

Among the seven, many believed in this tradition, bowing and offering prayers before the gate. From their conversation en route, Hajime learned they worked together at a small internet company. The man named Shujun was their boss.

Their original plan had been to visit the scenic spot to escape the usual dull team-building dinners in the city. However, an unexpected delay had forced their arrival to nightfall.

They had not anticipated meeting Hajime and Megumi on the road. But seeing two young, well-dressed men rather than burly strangers eased their fears. They assumed the pair were just fellow thrill-seekers, like those who had vanished in the area before—those disappearances ironically drawing even more visitors.

To them, Hajime and Megumi appeared harmless explorers.

After passing beneath the torii, they soon spotted lights in the distance.

"It's so late. Will they still let us stay?" one woman asked. Temples and shrines often had set visiting hours, and at 9:37 p.m., it was quite late outside the city.

Her friends reassured her. Given their emergency and the lack of nearby accommodations, the shrine would surely accept them.

Fortunately, their concerns proved unnecessary. As they neared, they were greeted by flashlight beams and a warm middle-aged man who introduced himself as Akashi Nohiko, the chief priest of Yaga Shrine.

His son had spotted the lights from afar and alerted him. Nohiko came to check if travelers had arrived late.

After welcoming them inside, his wife prepared hot tea and snacks to ward off the winter chill. The group, chilled from the journey, gratefully accepted and settled down, thanking the couple warmly.

"Please, join us," Akashi Nohiko invited Hajime and Megumi. Though lightly dressed, the two youths seemed unaffected by the cold. The swords they carried drew his attention—traveling himself, he recognized the weapons as genuine, though whether sharpened was unknown.

Had it not been for their youthful appearance and their obvious separation from the group of seven, Nohiko might have hesitated to host them. But seeing them sit politely, with the large dog calm by their side—his wife had even taken a liking to the animal—he relaxed and joined the conversation.

Curious, he subtly asked about their origins and why they had arrived so late. Satisfied by their answers, he soon shared stories and jokes, revealing a warm and sociable nature. The mood brightened.

He thanked them for coming, lamenting how the nearby forest's reputation as a suicide spot had hurt the shrine's popularity. After he reported a missing explorer to the police, fewer visitors came.

"People online say there are ghosts or serial killers here. Their reckless rumors have brought me nothing but trouble. This place used to attract tourists for its peaceful beauty, but now the dark aura keeps everyone away. It worries me to no end."

Though many still ignored the rumors—like tonight's visitors—Nohiko was clearly distressed.

Once they finished their tea and thanked their hosts again, Nohiko showed them to the guest rooms.

Since Hajime and Megumi came together, they shared a room. The others arranged themselves as they wished.

The room was tidy, regularly cleaned, with disposable toiletries replenished. Megumi glanced at Hajime, who seemed unwilling to rest.

"What's the plan now?" Megumi asked.

Hajime replied casually, "I'm going to check out the suicide spot. None of us encountered Cursed Spirits on the way. White Wolf and I found no traces, and your Jade Hounds didn't detect anything either. I want to inspect the scene."

Megumi nodded, then said, "I'll go with you."

"No need," Hajime refused. "I'll be quick. The Curse probably isn't actually there."

Taking his swords Totsuka-no-Tsurugi and Spider Cutter, Hajime slipped out into the night.

Megumi looked to White Wolf lying quietly, bid him goodnight, then rested.

---

Hajime moved like a shadow toward the dense forest east of the shrine. Warning signs and placards urging respect for life were plastered along the forest's edge. This confirmed he had come to the right place.

Moonlight revealed the skeletal branches stretching upward like bony fingers.

After progressing deeper, Hajime stopped and squatted to inspect the ground.

The area bore signs of suicides, with police having already processed the scene. What caught his attention, however, was a faint but distinct cursed energy and traces of recent human activity.

On guard, he moved forward.

Suddenly, a faint, mournful sobbing echoed through the woods, sending chills down the spine.

Hajime did not panic. Instead, he activated his Technique and hurried toward the sound, drawing Totsuka-no-Tsurugi.

Ahead, he found a sight that made his expression unreadable.

No female ghosts, no cursed spirits—only three men gathered in a clearing.

One knelt, muttering, surrounded by salt, bells, and talismans. But the real focus was a phone mounted on a stand.

Another man filmed the scene with a camera. Hajime's sharp eyes caught the phone screen—he was live streaming.

A ghost-hunting streamer.

Hajime sighed and sheathed his sword. He had expected a Curse, but found only a staged show. The mournful sobbing? A recording hidden in fallen leaves.

Ghost-hunting streams were technically regulated, but since ghosts and spirits were considered folklore, authorities rarely cracked down hard.

The streamer, Mr. Matsuki, had built his fame on clever scripts and performances, knowing fans were in on the act but addicted to the thrill.

Recently, this very location had become his stage, with a tragic ghost story scripted for live broadcast.

The crying sound was a dramatic effect, the climax building for viewers.

---

"Is something behind him?"

"Streamer! Look back, Yoshiko's here!"

"Oh god, are there really ghosts?"

"Where are the ghosts? This has to be fake."

Matsuki glanced at the scrolling comments. "Yoshiko's appearance" wasn't scheduled yet. Something was off—he needed to dock pay.

He looked up to warn his assistants but froze.

One, responsible for props, stared wide-eyed behind Matsuki, trembling.

The other nearly dropped the camera, equally terrified.

Their acting had become disturbingly convincing.

A cold sweat crept up Matsuki's back as he forced his eyes back to the comments.

Behind the kneeling man, a shadowy figure appeared faintly in the dark forest.

---