Curse Return: Demon Void Girl Doesn't Want to Be a Weakling

6 PM, Miyagi Prefectural General Hospital, ward.

After school, Yuji Itadori bought a bouquet of flowers and went to the hospital. When he opened the ward door, his grandfather was already awake.

"I told you not to come anymore, but you keep bringing flowers." Grandpa said impatiently, sitting on the hospital bed.

Itari pouted, put his schoolbag on the chair by the wall, and said, "Isn't this the same as usual?"

He walked to the window, picked up the vase, took out the wilted old flowers, and carefully replaced them with new ones. "These flowers aren't for you; they're for the nurse."

"Then there's even less need for that." The old man snorted, finally turning his head. "Why don't you go join a club? You keep coming here."

"It'll be over by five o'clock!" Itachi retorted irritably, took an apple and a peeler from the bag, and sat down on the chair next to the bed, the plastic chair making a slight creaking sound.

"How are you feeling today? Is your cough any better?"

"That's how it is," Grandpa said vaguely, but his gaze remained fixed on his face.

"Hisuhito."

"Hmm?" Itachi didn't look up, focusing on the apple in his hand, the peel hanging down and swaying slightly above the trash can.

"Have you seen Kujo since then?"

He paused in his peeling of the Japanese knotweed, looked up at his grandfather, and nodded. "Yes, we had dessert together yesterday afternoon. What's up?"

"It's nothing." The old man looked away and gazed out the window again, where the setting sun was casting its last rays.

He paused for a few seconds before speaking, his voice even lower: "Did she say anything to you?"

"He told me to be careful," Itadori answered honestly, cutting the peeled apple into even pieces on a plate and sticking toothpicks in them. "He also said someone might contact me soon and that I should listen carefully to what they say. Grandpa, who exactly is Kujo-senpai? The granddaughter of your old friend? It doesn't seem like it."

Yasuke Itadori remained silent for a long time.

The beeping of the monitor echoed regularly in the ward, preventing the air from becoming stagnant.

"She carried a heavy burden; she was a pitiful child," the old man said slowly, his gaze passing over the staff and looking at the setting sun outside the window. "You are happier than her."

Huzhang blinked, not quite understanding.

"Grandpa, is there something you haven't told me?"

The old man turned his gaze away and looked at his grandson.

Those eyes, no longer as clear and sharp as they once were, held emotions that Itadori had never seen before.

"Hirujin, Kujo is younger than you, but much more mature. She will protect you." The old man paused, then solemnly instructed, "However, if possible, you must also protect her."

"What are you even talking about..." Yuujin Itadori scratched his head, his expression becoming serious.

"Listen carefully, there's one last thing I need to tell you." The old man's voice suddenly became clear and strong. He looked directly into his grandson's eyes, and these were the most important words: "You are strong; go and save others."

Huzhang stopped what he was doing and listened attentively.

"Do what you can. Save as many people as you can. It's okay to feel lost. Don't mind if you don't receive thanks. In short, you should try your best to save more people."

The old man took a breath, slowly raised his hand, and pressed it against his chest.

"You will die surrounded by a crowd."

The ward was eerily quiet.

"Sometimes, helping others means you have to walk a difficult path yourself. You might get hurt, you might lose everything, you might even die."

"I know, Grandpa," Itajimaru took a deep breath and said softly, "but if it's something that must be done, it has to be done no matter how difficult it is, right?"

Itadori Yasuke stared at him for a very long time.

Then a proud smile slowly appeared on that wrinkled face.

"Ah," he said, slowly closing his eyes, "Go. Do what you think is right. Don't forget what Grandpa said."

"Yes." Itajimaru nodded vigorously. "I won't forget."

Itadori Yamasuke turned to the side and whispered, his voice barely audible to Hisahito, "I'm entrusting this to you... the Kujo family's child."

"Grandpa? Grandpa?"

......

Mashiro sat on the sofa in the apartment, her eyes closed, sensing the fluctuations of magical energy outside. The aura emanating from Sukuna's fingers had grown stronger again, and the nearby spirits were stirring restlessly.

"Ding ding".

A LINE notification sounded, and a red "1" popped up on the pink tiger avatar.

She had some suspicions in her mind, so she opened the chat.

"Hiren": Senior.

Yujin: Grandpa is gone.

"Yujin": Just now, at the hospital.

Three messages came in quick succession. There were no emoticons, no exclamation marks, and even the periods at the end of the sentences were placed neatly. This was unlike Hisahito Itadori's usual demeanor; one could feel his inner pain from his words.

Mashiro looked at the screen. The room was quiet, and she could hear birds chirping outside the window.

She remembered the sharp-eyed old man in the ward, his final entrustment, and his words, "I'm entrusting it to you."

She typed, deleted, and typed again.

My finger hovered above the screen for two seconds.

In the end, only a few words were sent out.

"Mashiro": I'm coming right away.

By the time Mashiro arrived at the hospital, the sun had already completely set.

The corridor was quiet, with only the light from the nurses' station in the distance and the faint sound of voices.

Mashiro's footsteps were very light; her sneakers made almost no sound on the floor.

The door to the ward was ajar. She stood in the doorway, her hand hovering over the doorknob, but didn't go in immediately.

If Itari is crying, her going in will only embarrass him.

A few slivers of light shone through the crack in the door, cold and glaring, but no crying could be heard.

She opened the door.

Yuji Itadori stood with his back to her by the hospital bed, his posture very straight, his shoulders taut.

The collar of the school uniform is a little crooked, probably from rubbing against it while running around and not having time to fix it.

Hearing the door open, Itsuji slowly turned around.

His eyes were red, without any tear stains, but extremely dry.

Upon seeing Mashiro, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he only called out to her, "...Senpai."

Mashiro entered the room, gently closing the door behind her. Her gaze swept over the hospital bed; the body had already been taken away, and Itani's neatly arranged belongings were placed on the bed.

"When did this happen?" she asked calmly.

"About... twenty minutes ago," a hoarse voice came through, "after saying his last words, he never woke up again."

"These are what you're taking with you, right?" Mashiro asked, looking at the belongings on the bed, her tone softening.

"Hmm." Itadori nodded, his gaze falling on the pile of things before quickly looking away. "There are still some formalities to complete."

"I'll stay with you," Mashiro nodded and said.

Itadori looked up into Mashiro's calm eyes and finally just nodded.

Mashiro put the belongings into a bag, slung it over her shoulder, then turned around and gently patted Itadori: "Let's go, let's get the paperwork done."

For the next hour, Mashiro stayed by Itadori's side.

At the nurses' station, a young nurse handed out various documents and explained them one by one.

When Huzhang bows his head to fill out forms and sign them, his fingers sometimes tremble slightly.

Mashiro stood silently watching from half a step away from him.

After explaining the last item, the nurse put away the materials and glanced hesitantly at Itani: "Are you... alright?"

"This is my first time doing something like this too." Itari's voice was a little hoarse. He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts, "It doesn't feel real yet."

He returned the pen to the nurse, rubbed his finger across the paper, leaving a small ink mark.

"But if you're always frowning, Grandpa will get angry."

He took a deep breath, raised his shoulders, and then lowered them again.

"I'll burn him to ashes with a smile."

The nurse paused for a moment, nodded, and said nothing more.

As I stepped out of the hospital building, the night wind rushed towards me.

The April night was still cool, and the wind blew in through her collar. Mashiro zipped her coat up to the top, and a few strands of her silver hair were blown by the wind. She reached out and gathered them up.

Itari was only wearing his school uniform jacket over a thin T-shirt. The wind blew, and the hem of his jacket fluttered slightly.

"Are you cold?" she asked after glancing at him.

Huzhang shook his head: "It's alright."

Mashiro glanced at his jacket, which offered no protection from the wind, and said nothing. She simply slowed her pace to shield herself from the wind, though her small frame did little to actually help.

The two walked back along the street, the light from the streetlights casting patches of light and shadow on the sidewalk.

Huzhang stared blankly at the traffic on the road. Occasionally, a car would drive by, its headlights leaving two moving beams of light on the ground before quickly disappearing.

They reached the intersection, the light was red, and the two stopped.

Suddenly, Dr. Huzhang spoke:

"senior."

"Um?"

"Grandpa's last words were, 'You should die surrounded by a crowd.'" His voice was much lower than usual, as if he were speaking to himself. "He also said, 'Don't end up like him.'"

Mashiro stared at the flashing red numbers ahead, saying nothing, simply listening quietly.

"But I feel that Grandpa didn't leave alone." Itari raised his head and looked at the streetlights across the street. "I was by his side in the end. Just now, the doctor came, and the nurses helped. And now, you're here too, senpai."

He turned his head and looked at Mashiro. The light from the streetlamp fell on his face, and a faint light flickered again in his swollen eyes.

"So Grandpa wasn't as lonely as he said he was, right?"

Mashiro met his gaze, remained silent for two seconds, and then nodded slightly.

"Yes," she said, "he's not alone."

The green light came on, and the two crossed the zebra crossing.

After walking a dozen steps, Tiger Cane spoke again.

"senior."

"Um."

"Will I... have no family left in the future?"

The question was asked very softly, as if afraid of hearing the answer.

She continued walking, her steps neither hurried nor slow, making soft rustling sounds on the sidewalk.

The streetlights stretched her shadow long and short, then stretched it again.

"I have no family."

She finally spoke, her tone indifferent, as if the topic was today's weather.

"From the time I can remember, I've been alone. I live alone, I do everything alone. No one is waiting for me to come back, and no one tells me what kind of person I should become."

Haddō looked at her with some surprise.

"So I've never really understood what it's like between family members." Mashiro continued, "Looking at you and your grandfather, I'm a little envious."

She stopped, turned around, her silver hair swaying slightly in the night breeze, her red eyes bathed in the warm light of the streetlights, her gaze still calm, yet now imbued with more emotion.

"Your grandfather entrusted you to me," she said.

Huzhang slightly widened his eyes.

"On the day I first met him," Mashiro continued, "I will be here with you until you find a new family, or until you are able to stand on your own two feet."

Her voice was soft, but every word was clearly conveyed to Itajō's heart.

A gust of wind blew from the end of the street, swirling a few withered leaves around their feet.

"This is an agreement between your grandfather and me, and it's also a promise I made to you." She raised her hand and tucked a strand of silver hair that had fallen beside her ear behind her ear.

She looked into Itsuji's eyes, those red, dry, tired but still bright eyes.

Mashiro extended her hand and smiled slightly.

"You are not alone, Hisahito."

Huzhang carefully examined the petite girl's outstretched hand.

There were several old, scabbed wounds on his knuckles, and his nails were neatly trimmed.

What should he say?

Should I say thank you, or okay, or say, "Senior, your hands are so small?"

He should have responded, but something seemed to be blocking his throat, and he couldn't make a sound.

It wasn't because of sadness; when Grandpa passed away, the feeling that was stuck in my chest was painful, like being hit by a boulder.

What's pressing on his chest now is different; it's just as heavy, but it brings him warmth.

He recalled the first time he saw her in the hospital. The silver-haired girl stood by her grandfather's bedside, turned to look at him, and her eyes were calmer than a child's.

He thought at the time that there was an indescribable sense of distance about this person, as if he were looking at the world through glass.

When she asked him on LINE where to find good desserts, the message she sent was very short, short enough to show that she was hesitant. He was secretly smiling while holding his phone at that moment.

Later at the dessert shop, she looked very serious while drinking her matcha latte, and her pigtails were adorable.

She always walked on the outside, always half a step behind, always quietly observing everything with her red eyes.

She never spoke of herself. Not even once.

But now she says she has no family, never has.

She spoke so calmly that it took Herba Itsuki several seconds to realize what she had just heard.

Then she said, "I am not alone."

Seeing that he didn't respond for a while, Mashiro tilted her head and waved her hand in front of him: "It's tiring to hold your hand up like that."

Itachi realized what was happening, squeezed the hand, and then let go.

He looked at Zhenbai; a few strands of her silver hair were blown away by the night wind and clung to her cheeks.

The light from the streetlamp shone down from behind her, casting a thin layer of color on her silhouette.

"I'm gone."

She turned around and walked forward, her steps slow, her silver hair swaying gently behind her.

Huzhang stood still, watching her retreating figure.

He remembered how she looked when she turned around, the way she raised her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, the silver hair slipping from her fingertips and then being half-hidden by the falling strands.

Under the streetlights, those red eyes looked beautiful.

It wasn't a particularly special scene, but he felt he would remember it for a long time.

"Let's go," Mashiro urged without turning her head.

Huzhang snapped out of his daze, took a few steps, and caught up with him.

"senior."

"Um?"

"I'll bake you a cake every year for your birthday from now on."

"……Need not."

"Make it extra large, fill it with strawberries."

"Listen to what people are saying."

"So, what kind of food do you like, senior?"

Mashiro didn't answer, she just walked faster.

Tiger Rod chased after her, laughing loudly.

The night wind blew again.