This earns an amused chuckle.

"Well! And even if I say that Sukuna is an overrated old hack that couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, much less those restraints?"

That makes Tōkan start laughing. "He really hates you, you know. I am sure some of the words he is using are older than the Edo Period."

"Aw! How quaint. Well I'd hate him back if he were worth my time!" says the cocky sorcerer, brightly. He gets up and releases Itadori from his restraints, watching with clear amusement.

Itadori stands up and rubs his wrists, stretching his legs at the same time. "—how are my friends doing?" he asks, suddenly.

"Alive, all of them. One's in the hospital, though. Hear it might be chancy. Shall we go check?"

"...yes, please."

Off they go! The mysterious mentor waves off any security that tries to stop them, saying he's running some tests with 'The vessel.' None of the security seems particularly happy, but they grudgingly accept it and do not follow.

Itadori is allowed into the hospital by himself; the blindfolded man opts instead to wait outside on a bench. "Someone will be by tomorrow to remove any latent cursed energy on him. If he makes it that long, that should tip him over the edge to surviving," he says, from where he lounges.

Inside, his classmate is wrapped in bandages. The nurse says something about the school being old and crumbling with him in it; he fell a couple stories. Unlucky, but lucky this happened after hours, and more people weren't hurt. Absolutely no mention of curses or horrible monsters is made.

Sasaki—one of his friends from the Occult Club, less beat up but still with one arm in a cast—is there when Itadori arrives, sitting by Iguchi's bed, staring listlessly at nothing. She looks up when he walks in, but it's almost like she's looking past him, or through him. Her eyes are empty, and it's clear she's cried herself dry and then cried some more.

    "Itadori," she says in a matching tone of voice. She does not mention the new additions to his face.

"Sasaki-senpai," he replies, eyes drawn immediately to Iguchi's prone figure on the bed. "How is...?" He knows the answer already but he feels like—like he needs to hear it from her.

    "The doctors say he's fine," she replies, "but he still won't wake up." Her eyes fill to the brim with tears, again. "It's all my fault," she blurts. "If—if I hadn't asked him to come with me that night—" And it's like she has been waiting for someone, anyone to be able to listen, someone she could confide in, because the words come in a rush, one after the other without pause for breath, tears flowing freely down her face. "I know you won't believe this, but it wasn't—the official story—the school didn't crumble. There was a monster—there were monsters, so many of them—and they attacked us, I was captured too—I don't know how I survived, don't know what happened to either of us, I just woke up and there were doctors and he wouldn't wake up, and it was all my fault, and—"

"Senpai," Itadori repeats, and she stops talking. "I believe you. I—I was there. I came, too." Her eyes widen. "Those monsters—curses, they're called—it was the finger. The finger was a powerful object that drew them to the school. It wasn't your fault, it was the fault of, of whoever left that there, in a school, with kids who could become victims of it." He looks down at his feet, then at Iguchi again. "Someone who can fix Iguchi-senpai will come over tomorrow, and he'll—he'll be fine. You'll be fine."

    "I-Itadori..." she says, looking somewhere between confused and relieved and shocked and—

"Don't—don't look for explanations. It's dangerous and, and that wasn't the worst it could be." She gasps lifts a hand to cover her mouth at that, as if the idea that something could be worse than that night was beyond imagination. "You'll be fine. I—I have to go, though. I can help." He looks at her again and smiles. "I can help with curses, things like that. So I will. But not here. I need to become stronger." He bows, then, deeply. "It has been a great pleasure and honour to know the two of you, senpai. Please take care of yourself."

And before she can come up with something to say to that, he's out.

His mysterious mentor figure is lounging on the bench outside, enjoying the nice weather.

"Hey." He tilts his head. "Well, I hereby pronounce you safeish. You sure about doing this, kid? A quick execution would in many ways be kinder. You didn't know how right you were, with how that wasn't the worst it could be. If you go down this path, you'll see things, probably do things, that will make this whole broken world seem like it's not worth any of it. This opening might have been straight out of an anime, but I promise you, it will not stay that way."

"Depends on the anime," he says under his breath, but then shakes his head. "I know. It's..." Hard to explain. "I have actual super strength. You know? It makes absolutely no sense. The kind of thing that does not happen in real life. And I wanted to—do something, be something. Not, not a superhero or anything like that, but it has always felt a bit like I was holding my breath, or waiting for the other shoe to drop. Here's the other shoe and I think I am ready for it. And if I'm not... I will be. I'll be what I gotta be."

“All right. As long as you walk forward with your eyes open and your head high. … Now, fortunately for you, I know the perfect student to round out your trio! And with you I have reason to talk the higher ups into giving her a scholarship so she comes to our school.”

He sounds very pleased with himself.

"Oh, good, this won't be one of those boys' club types, I was getting kind of worried for a bit there."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, it won't! And I do. But don't relax yet, you still need to pass the interview. Pack your things! You're heading to Tokyo."

"I am sure my endless charm and wit will win over whoever interviews me."

"We'll see!"

Accommodations at his new (potential) school will be provided for him, approximately emulating a dorm room, with a bed, a bathroom, and a communal kitchen. He's even set up with a large storage container for anything that he might like to keep but not directly take with him. It's up to him what he does with his recently deceased grandfather's house and everything inside, but the academy he's working with is incentivized to make it as straightforward for him as possible. And for no reason in particular, he should absolutely set up a will. Just, you know, in case that execution gets moved up. It's just being thorough.

It's a little over a week later, after a whirlwind of logistical necessities, that Itadori finally gets to see the academy that would like to take him. Nestled in the mountains outside of Tokyo, in the most out of the way patch of wilderness that they could find, is a school that looks like it came straight out of the Edo period. An exceedingly well maintained one, too. It's peaceful and picturesque, and his (potential) Sensei is waiting for his arrival, smiling faintly.

Tōkan doesn't really have... anyone... anymore. To write into a will.

He wants to get rid of his grandfather's house with as little hassle as he can, please, Tōkan knows his grandfather'd get really annoyed if he knew the boy was still grieving and not moving on and having the house just makes it harder. He won't need it anyway.

If he dies, he decides, he'll leave his stuff to Iguchi and Sasaki and Fushiguro. That seems right.

So now he can meet up with his probable new sensei.

“Hey!” he says, looking just like he did when Itadori last saw him. “Good news! Your third member was stolen right out from under the other school’s nose! If you want a boy’s love anime out of your life you’ll have to work for it.”

"I thought we were in a monster fighting genre. But speaking of boy's love, where's Fushiguro?"

“Napping, probably! He got fixed up by the same person that got your friend, but he’s still got to sleep off some of the injuries. C’mon, we’ll go meet the principal, see if all of this lead up was for nothing or not. Be good, this guy gets final say if you get in or not, and the other school is run by people that wanted you dead a week ago, so don’t hope to get in there instead.”

"And this guy didn't want me dead?"

“He’s open to many possibilities!” Which doesn’t quite answer the question, does it.

It does not.

"Well, any tips?"

“Be honest. Not fake job-interview honest, actually honest. He will see through pretty lies, and you will get punched for them.”

He sounds kind of fond, actually.

"And if I say I like getting punched?"

“Well, then your choices are your own!”