Kodoku

Chapter 21

Nanami had been through battles, had faced curses that would leave most men trembling, but nothing had prepared him for the sight that greeted him that morning. Yaga's quarters, usually a place of warmth and calm, were now a scene of horror. The man who had been like a father to so many of them, the man who had been the unshakeable foundation of their world, lay lifeless in his room. Nanami had stood there for a moment, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, the air thick with the scent of blood and something else—something darker, more sinister.

He had stumbled back, his breath caught in his throat, and with shaking hands, he had called for help. The news spread through the headquarters like wildfire, the initial shock giving way to a hushed, growing panic. Now, the halls were filled with the muted sounds of fear—whispers, hurried footsteps, and the distant, muffled sobs of the women who had found refuge here.

Nanami sat on the edge of a low chair, his hands running through his hair as he tried to think, tried to piece together what to do next. His mind was racing, but every thought seemed to circle back to the same crushing reality: Yaga was dead, and they were now leaderless, adrift in a sea of uncertainty in the middle of a war.

Geto was pacing in front of him, his movements sharp and agitated. “There has to be something,” Geto muttered, half to himself, half to Nanami, “A clue, a piece of evidence—anything. This wasn’t an accident.”

Nanami could barely hear him. The image of Yaga’s body was burned into his mind, and it was taking everything he had not to lose himself to the fear gnawing at his insides. Yaga was dead. Yaga was dead. The words kept repeating in his head, a mantra of despair.

“Nanami!” Geto’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, sharp with urgency, “Focus! Where were you last night? Did you see anyone unusual? Hear anything?”

“I—” Nanami tried to answer, but his voice caught in his throat. He was speechless, his hands trembling as they gripped his hair. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

In the background, Itadori, Panda, Inumaki, Todo, and Okkotsu were huddled together, talking in low, worried tones. They looked terrified, their eyes wide and darting around the room as if expecting another attack at any moment. The women, who had overheard the news, were in various states of distress—some crying softly, others openly sobbing, their fear palpable.

“We need to figure this out!” Geto’s voice was growing more intense, more accusatory, “Someone had to get in. Someone had to have been close enough to do this. Where were all of you last night? Who did you see? Who was acting suspicious?”

“Geto, stop!” Nanami finally managed to find his voice, standing up abruptly, “This isn’t helping! You’re making everyone paranoid—”

“And why are you so calm?” Geto shot back, his eyes narrowing at Nanami, “How can you be so calm when Yaga is dead? Does that not strike anyone else as odd?”

Nanami felt his stress building, his fists clenching at his sides. The fear, the uncertainty, the sheer weight of the situation was becoming too much to bear. He could feel the tension in the room rising to a fever pitch, and the sight of the women crying, of the younger sorcerers looking so lost and frightened, was pushing him to the edge.

He was about to yell, to demand that Geto stop, that everyone just calm down, when the door slammed open with a thunderous crash.

Everyone froze, the room falling into a stunned silence as Gojo stumbled in, the sound of his entrance still echoing through the halls. He was a wreck—his pupils blown wide, his usually pristine clothes disheveled, and the sharp stench of cocaine and alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. He swayed on his feet, his expression a twisted mixture of anger and indifference.