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

The smoke and dust had not yet dissipated.

Yuji Itadori knelt on the ground, panting heavily.

After Su Nuo's consciousness faded, he regained control of his body, but the lingering, violent curse power still burned in his blood vessels.

Fukuro Megumi leaned against the broken wall, her left hand covering her ribs, blood seeping from between her fingers.

He stared at Huzhang, his expression complex.

He had never seen anyone who could regain their body after swallowing Su Nuo's finger.

Mashiro stood ten meters away, while Murasaki had already been sheathed.

She brushed the few stray hairs that Su Nuo had cut off from her shoulder, and dusted off her sleeves, her movements unhurried and deliberate.

Be passionate in battle, but elegant—that will never go out of style.

The Dharma wheel above his head slowly stopped, and the fighting spirit burning in his eyes gradually subsided, returning him to a calm state.

Once Itachi caught his breath, the first thing he did wasn't to check his own injuries, but to turn around and look for Mashiro.

I saw her standing there, her sportswear with several tears, her silver hair shorter, but she stood steadily, brushing the dust off her sleeves.

"Senior!" he called out, his voice still trembling from his heavy breathing, his tone filled with unconcealed worry.

He propped himself up on his knees, his legs still a little weak, and staggered two steps toward Mashiro. "Are you alright? Did that guy hurt you anywhere? I couldn't control him just now, and when I saw him attack you, I—"

"Hisuhito." Mashiro interrupted.

Huzhang stopped, his lips still open.

Mashiro looked at him, her red eyes gleaming slightly in the moonlight, and calmly said, "I'm fine. Are you injured?"

Itachi paused for a moment, and his calm gaze gradually subsided.

He looked down at his hands, then lifted his leg. "It seems... everything's alright."

"That's fine then."

After she finished speaking, she shifted her gaze from him to Fushiguro Megumi behind him.

Tiger Stick turned around following her gaze and realized that Fu Hei was still injured. He immediately turned around and ran over to help him.

Just then, a surge of spiritual pressure descended from the sky.

A massive, undisguised source of magical power rapidly approached from high above.

Mashiro raised her head, her silver hair flying backward as the air currents created by the cursed power blew her back.

coming.

A figure descended from the night sky, its posture as casual as if it were taking a stroll.

White hair, black eye patch, and a high school uniform worn loosely on his body, exuding an air of extravagance.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest in modern times.

The moment it landed, the surrounding debris was pushed away by the shockwave.

With his hands in his pockets and his head tilted to the side, his gaze first swept over the slumped Fushiguro Megumi, then over the toad holding Fushiguro's arm, and finally settled on Mashiro.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer.

"Yo." Gojo Satoru spoke up, his tone as if he'd bumped into an acquaintance at a convenience store, "Megumi, didn't you say you were just here to receive a cursed object? What happened?"

Fushiguro Megumi gritted her teeth and tried to stand up, but failed twice. Finally, leaning against the wall, she said, "Something happened. I was attacked by a cursed spirit, and then it swallowed my finger."

He patted the cane beside him.

"Really?"

"real."

Gojo Satoru walked up to Itadori, bent down, and looked closely; the black eye patch concealed his expression.

Itadori felt uncomfortable being stared at and was about to say something when Gojo Satoru suddenly reached out and flicked him on the forehead.

"Ouch!" Itari rubbed his forehead. "What are you doing?"

"Can you move?"

"Can, can move."

"Then let's take a few steps."

Huzhang was puzzled, but he still stood up and took a few steps.

He took two steps and then stopped, looked back at Mashiro's direction, and after confirming that she was still there, he looked away.

Gojo Satoru witnessed this scene but said nothing.

He straightened up, his tone still light: "Interesting. You swallowed two of Sukuna's fingers and still managed to regain control of your body. What's your name?"

"Japanese knotweed Yuhito."

"Itadori Yuujin," Gojo Satoru repeated, then after two seconds, suddenly turned to Mashiro, "And what about this little girl?"

The topic changed without warning.

Although her tone remained relaxed, Mashiro could sense that Gojo Satoru's attention had completely shifted to her.

The first clash with the strongest in modern times? How interesting.

"Kujou Mashiro," she introduced herself. "Hello, Gojou Satoru-san."

"Kujo?" Gojo Satoru tilted his head, seemingly recalling something. "That Kujo family? I think I remember..."

"That's all," Mashiro finished for him. "I should be the last one."

Gojo Satoru didn't reply. He took half a step around Mashiro, as if looking at something interesting.

Although his eyes were covered by an eye patch, his gaze was extremely strong, and Zhen Bai got goosebumps the moment he was swept over.

She frowned, about to say something, when he looked away.

"Sorry, sorry," he stopped, "but your spell is very strange, is it related to what's on your head?"

Mashiro did not evade his question, and replied with the answer she had prepared in advance: "My spells can understand and imitate other spells. The flames and spatial cutting I used on Sukuna just now were learned from the cursed spirits I encountered before."

"Imitation?" Gojo Satoru's tone rose slightly. "Isn't that pretty impressive? How many techniques have you learned?"

"I haven't counted."

This answer made Gojo Satoru smile, a look of interest flashing in his eyes.

"Then why are you here?" His tone had only deepened slightly, yet it carried an overwhelming sense of pressure. "Don't tell me you were just passing by."

Itachi trembled and stepped in from the side, blocking Mashiro's path.

"The senior came to see me! She is—"

"Yujin." Mashiro called his name, interrupting him.

Huzhang immediately shut his mouth and turned his head to look at her.

Mashiro looked at Gojo Satoru and answered succinctly, "I came to find him."

Gojo Satoru's gaze darted between the two.

A pink-haired boy instinctively stepped in front of him. A silver-haired girl could shut him up with just one word from his name.

interesting.

"You two," Gojo Satoru pulled his finger out of his pocket and pointed between the two men, "what's your relationship?"

Mashiro didn't answer immediately; she glanced at Itadori in front of her.

The wind blowing from the rooftop lifted a corner of her dress.

As her protector, what would be the best way for her to say it?

Mashiro pondered for a moment, recalling what she had said yesterday.

"...I'm his older sister," Mashiro said.

Although she should be the younger sister in terms of age, where is her pride?!

Huzhang suddenly turned his head to look at her.

Gojo Satoru raised an eyebrow slightly above his eyepatch. "Sister? You two don't look alike at all."

"Is that not allowed?" Mashiro's tone was flat as she raised her eyes, her red eyes meeting Gojo Satoru's eyepatch.

Gojo Satoru looked at her, then at Itadori's face, which seemed to say, "I don't know, don't ask me, I'm afraid to speak," and a smile slowly crept onto his lips.

"Sure." He chuckled. "Why not? Of course it'll work."

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and patted Itadori's shoulder with a little more force than before. Itadori staggered forward a small step from the pat, but Gojo Satoru's hand remained on his shoulder.

"Itadori, your sister is pretty amazing." He bent down and whispered in Itadori's ear, his voice loud enough for everyone present to hear. "She just exchanged several blows with Sukuna and is still alive, and doesn't seem to be seriously injured."

This guy, he said it on purpose for her to hear, didn't he?

Mashiro pouted, ignoring his provocation.

Wait, wait until she reaches the Special Grade before showing off and letting Gojo Satoru soar.

Gojo Goshin stood up, turned to Mashiro, and his tone returned to its casual tone: "I'll tell the higher-ups that Itadori Hisahito will be joining the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School under supervision. Does this lady have any objections?"

"No, but I need to be able to see him anytime."

"No problem, you're welcome anytime. I'll reserve a visitor spot for you on the log." He paused for a moment, then added, "You don't seem surprised at all that Huzhang was taken away by the college."

Mashiro looked at him, her calm face expressionless. This cold demeanor was actually quite useful: "Surprised? You just didn't notice."

Gojo Satoru paused for a moment, then actually burst out laughing.

He had never seen such a unique girl before.

"Interesting." He adjusted his blindfold. "Next time we meet, let me see the limits of your imitation skills."

"Ah, I'm also very curious about the six-eyed technique."

"I'll make it clear to you." After saying that, he pulled Fu Hei up from the ground, put him on his shoulder, and took a few steps toward the stairwell.

Then, without turning around, he added, "Oh, by the way, don't go around telling anyone about tonight. Those old guys in the higher-ups hate it when minors fight under their noses, especially with Su Nuo."

"understood."

Gojo Satoru's figure disappeared at the top of the stairs. Fushiguro was being supported by him, and a muffled groan and a complaint could be faintly heard: "Don't drag me along, my legs aren't broken yet."

Only two people remained on the rooftop.

Mashiro remained standing in the same spot, without moving.

Itachi turned to look at her. His expression was strange; his lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh but didn't.

"Senior," he began, his voice a little strained, "you just said...sister."

"Shut up."

"Yes, sister." The pink-haired young man stood at attention.

Mashiro turned her face away, looking down to fix a tear in her cuff. Her silver hair fell down, obscuring her profile.

"Your grandfather entrusted you to me, so I'm your older sister. Don't worry about anything else."

Huzhang paused for a moment.

"Then," he began, his voice still a little strained, "does that mean I have to call you 'sister' from now on?"

"what ever."

"But, senior."

"Um."

"When you told Mr. Gojo that 'I am his sister,' did you forget something?"

Mashiro looked up at him.

Itadori's expression was serious, but he was suppressing a smile. He held up his index finger, pointed at himself, and then at Mashiro.

"I am Hisahito Itadori, fifteen years old, a first-year high school student."

Then his finger stopped in front of Mashiro.

"Senior, you..."

He paused for a moment, as if weighing his words.

"He doesn't look more than twelve years old, does he?"

The air went silent for a moment.

Mashiro stared at him expressionlessly, her red eyes showing no emotion, but Itadori inexplicably felt a chill on the back of his neck.

"What do you want to say?"

"What I mean is," Itajō scratched his head, grinned, and regained his usual carefree attitude, "if I called you 'sister,' people would think it's very strange. A 1.7-meter-tall strong man calling a 1.4-meter-tall little girl 'sister,' wouldn't I look more like the older brother?"

"One meter fourty-four," Mashiro corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"Itadori Yuujin." Mashiro lowered his hand from adjusting his sleeves and stood up straight.

She was nearly 30 centimeters shorter than Hu Zhang, but when she looked up at him, she was just as imposing. "Your grandfather handed you over to me, so the family's age ranking will be recalculated."

Haddō was stunned: "W-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," Mashiro lifted her leg and lightly kicked Itadori's leg, "no matter how old I am, I'm still the older sister."

"But how old are you, senior?!"

"twelve."

Huzhang blinked.

"Twelve?!" His voice suddenly rose, then he quickly lowered it again. He looked around to make sure Gojo Satoru was far away before leaning closer. "Senpai, are you really twelve? I thought you were at least fourteen!"

"Because I'm more mature than you."

"...There's no denying that." Itadori scratched the back of his head, his expression shifting between shock and acceptance before finally settling on a knowing smile. "So, she's not a classmate, nor an upperclassman, but someone three years younger than me—"

He stopped halfway through his sentence; the threat in those crimson eyes was enough to make him swallow the rest of his words.

"...Sister." He obediently changed his address.

Mashiro withdrew her hand from his waist, which she was about to pinch hard, and her silver hair swayed gently as she turned around.

After a moment of silence, the wind blew in through the cracks in the broken wall, making the hem of Itsuji's school uniform flutter.

"Mashiro-nee".

A boy's clear voice came from behind.

Mashiro stopped walking, without turning around. "What?"

"Nothing much, just wanted to try this name." Itari chuckled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "It sounds pretty natural."

She turned her head slightly, her red eyes half-hidden by her long eyelashes.

Yuujin Itadori, the strongest in the future, is currently just an ordinary hot-blooded young man.

She has no anchor point in either her original world or this world.

From childhood to adulthood, I've been like a buoy drifting with the tide, and a sense of loneliness occasionally arises in the quiet of the night.

In this world, it's not a bad thing to start making changes now.

"Whatever you want," Mashiro said softly.

Then she walked down the steps of the rooftop, stopped as she passed by him, raised her foot, and gently kicked Hu Zhang again.

The kick was delivered to the exact same spot and with the same force as before.

"I'm leaving now, I'll come see you again tomorrow."

She turned and walked into the stairwell, her footsteps light, her figure gradually disappearing into the distance.

Itadori stood still, patted his leg that Mashiro had kicked twice, and called out towards the bottom of the stairs, "Mashiro-nee!"

The footsteps didn't stop, but an impatient voice came through: "What now?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted to shout it again!" Itari, holding onto the stair railing, laughed so hard his shoulders were shaking.

"babble!"

The next second, a tiny flame struck the stair railing, startling him.

A smug laugh rang out, then vanished completely.

Huzhang smiled as he walked out of the stairwell and headed towards the school gate.

Gojo Satoru was leaning against the car door playing on his phone when he saw him walk over and glanced at him.

"Finished talking?"

"Um."

"Where's your sister?"

"I'm gone."

"You're gone? Then what are you laughing at?" Gojo Satoru put away his phone, opened the driver's side door, and spoke with obvious mockery in his tone.

Huzhang climbed into the back seat, closed the door, and leaned back in.

"Because," he said, suppressing a laugh, "I have a younger sister who is older than me."

What does it mean?

Gojo Satoru glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

Fukuro turned his head in the passenger seat, looked at Itajō's serious expression, and nodded knowingly.

It seems that consuming a top-grade cursed object has a greater impact on intelligence than imagined; this is truly valuable information.

"Is your sister... older than you?" Gojo Satoru repeated, then understood what he meant, twitched his lips, and said nothing more.

These siblings are quite extraordinary.

"Um."

Huzhang didn't say anything more and closed his eyes.

"Mashiro-nee" is indeed a very easy-to-pronounce nickname.

It took me a long time to figure this out, but now I realize that it should have been called that from the beginning.

Exhaustion washed over him, and Uruga fell into a deep sleep.

Gojo Satoru glanced at him in the rearview mirror, deep in thought.

"Imitation spell," he muttered to himself, barely audible to himself. "What a joke."

Six eyes gleamed slightly beneath his eyepatch.

The way that girl's magical energy flowed couldn't be explained by the word "imitate".

It was as if her body had an independent and continuously operating analytical system inside, with her curse power constantly adjusting, reorganizing, and evolving, which he couldn't understand.

"The Kujo family... I've never heard of such a technique, nor have I ever heard of anyone like this."

Gojo Satoru looked up at the quiet moon outside the car window, his tone becoming increasingly lighthearted. "Well, as long as they're not enemies, that's fine. They don't seem to have any ill intentions towards Itadori Yuuji; in fact, they're quite protective of him. Let's observe them slowly."

He stepped on the gas, and the car sped up.