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

Mashiro pulled Murasame back into her body, glanced down at the small holes on her sleeve caused by the venom, but didn't pay them any mind.

She raised her hand to conjure a water sphere, washed her face and hands, and then took out her phone to send a message to Nanami.

"Mashiro": Quasi-Special Grade has been exorcised, mission complete.

"Nanami": You must be tired. Are you injured?

"Mashiro": She's unharmed; she's the type I can't handle.

"Nanami": Okay, then find the window and finish the finishing touches.

"Mashiro": OK.

Mashiro clicked into Gojo Satoru's chat window again, but there was still no reply after so long.

This is very unusual. She frowned and sent another message.

"Mashiro": Where are you?

After about half a minute, the screen lit up.

"Wutiao Wu": I'm still in a meeting. I just saw your message. Those old guys have been talking since yesterday afternoon until this morning. I almost fell asleep. Sorry.

A meeting?

A bad feeling crept into Mashiro's heart.

More than a day has passed since she messaged Gojo Satoru, which means Gojo Satoru spent the whole night in a meeting in Kyoto.

On the same day, she received an urgent mission that spanned multiple regions.

No, no! No wonder she didn't see Gojo Satoru at the vocational high school yesterday.

She reopened Nanami's chat window.

"Mashiro": Nanami, does Itadori have any missions today?

Nanami's reply came quickly.

"Nanami": Let me check.

"Nanami": The juvenile detention center. The Window's rating is Level 2. Fushiguro and Kugizaki are also there; it's probably just a routine exorcism. He hasn't contacted you yet?

Juvenile detention center! Mashiro's expression changed.

She didn't expect it to happen so quickly; less than five days after Huzhang enrolled, the higher-ups were already making a move against him.

Mashiro didn't reply. She turned and ran down the mountain, immediately calling Gojo Satoru.

It rang twice before being answered.

"Mashiro?" Gojo Satoru's voice came through the receiver, tinged with surprise. "It's rare for you to call me first. What's up?"

"Are you in Kyoto?"

"Yeah, a meeting. So boring, these old men—"

"Go back to Tokyo right now, to the juvenile detention center."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Gojo Satoru's tone changed: "What's going on?"

"My urgent mission in Saitama, your meeting in Kyoto," Mashiro said, "and the door gave Hisahito the mission from the Juvenile Institute."

"..."

"Gojo Satoru, this is a diversionary tactic; they want Hisahito dead."

I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back on the other end of the phone.

Gojo Satoru's voice turned cold, devoid of its usual frivolity.

"Damn it, I'm heading back right now."

"Um."

Mashiro hung up the phone and rushed to Tokyo at full speed.

Upon seeing Mashiro, the liaison officer at the foot of the mountain approached her and asked, "Ms. Kujo, was it resolved?"

Mashiro didn't stop, passing by her like the wind. "It's resolved. You can handle the rest yourselves."

The liaison officer adjusted his glasses, watching the figure quickly disappear from sight, muttering, "So urgent? What happened?"

Mashiro moved quickly, the sound of the wind rushing into her ears, her mind in turmoil.

She knew what she should do. As a transmigrator who knew the plot, following the development of the plot was the safest choice.

Itadori dies once, forms a bond with Sukuna, and then revives. This way, she can control Sukuna's method of changing bodies.

If the plot is altered here, what other methods will Sukuna use? How will Ryosaku adjust his plans? These variables combined could completely upend the entire timeline.

She couldn't bear the consequences.

But there was another voice in my heart.

That was a promise she made to the elderly man at Sendai Hospital: to ensure Hisahito Itadori's survival.

That was her hand outstretched to Hu Zhang under the streetlight, telling him he wasn't alone.

That was the boy's face on the rooftop who was kicked twice but still smiled brightly; that was the aroma of sukiyaki wafting from her new home on the first day she moved; that was the bento box she received in the entryway every morning.

Now that she knows the juvenile detention center is a deadly trap set for Itadori Hisahito, should she just let things take their course?

Mashiro clenched her teeth.

If Itari dies in the juvenile detention center this time, what will her previous promises mean? Just empty words? How will she ever face him again?

But if she saves Itadori this time and the bondage of Sukuna is not formed, then who will bear the consequences of future uncertainties?

Two voices were locked in a fierce struggle in her mind, neither willing to yield.

She remembered the morning when Japanese knotweed brought her breakfast.

The boy stood at the door, handing her the lunchbox while saying he'd save her dinner for the night. His smile was exactly the same as the one she'd first seen at the dessert shop, showing his unwavering trust in her.

She simply nodded.

Mashiro took a deep breath and accelerated forward.

"Following the plot is the right thing to do, but I don't want him to die," she told herself. "This isn't my thought as a time traveler, but it's my responsibility as his sister."

He exerted force with his feet, channeling his magical power into his legs, and increased his speed by another level.

"Hirohito Itadori, you better hold on!"

……

Su Nuo delivered an elbow strike, hitting the Nue carrying Fu Heifei. Both the man and the bird were knocked to the ground, unable to get up again.

"Cough, let's undo it before it gets destroyed." Fushiguro Megumi stroked Nue's head and dispelled the spell.

Su Nuo landed in front of him, "You've gambled your life on something meaningless."

Fushiguro sighed, barely managed to stand up, and made a gesture.

"Furube, Yura Yura, Hachiman—"

Before he could finish speaking, his eyes widened, and the curse marks on Su Nuo's body gradually disappeared.

Hisahito Itadori pushed him down.

"I'm not a champion of justice, I'm a sorcerer." Fushiguro Megumi slowly lowered her hand. "I've never regretted saving you."

"Is that so?" Itadori smiled slightly. "Fukuguro is very clever; he's definitely thinking more than I have."

He scratched his head. "Even though you're right, I don't think I'm wrong."

"Someone taught me to help others, and someone else taught me how precious life is."

"It seems like the time is almost up. Ah, I was thinking about protecting her in the future."

He looked at Fu Hei, his eyes pleading, "Take care of her for me, don't let her be too sad."

"You all should live a long life."

After saying that, he collapsed to the ground and fell silent.

Fushiguro Megumi clenched her fists, raised her head in anguish, and said, "Damn it, how am I supposed to tell her this?"

The next second, Fukuro felt a familiar fluctuation of cursed power.

It's Teacher Gojo!

Wu Tiao Wu landed, and the pebbles bounced off his feet.

Fushiguro Megumi quickly stepped forward, his voice hoarse and choked with barely concealed sobs, "Gojo-sensei... Itadori-him."

He couldn't continue.

Gojo Satoru didn't answer. He walked over to Itadori, squatted down, took off his blindfold, and looked down at it for a long time.

The boy still had a faint smile on his face.

Gojo Satoru reached out and gently wiped the blood off Itadori's face with his thumb.

"Fu Hei".

"……yes."

"You did your best."

Fukuro kept his head down, not letting Gojo see his expression. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, as if he was swallowing his emotions.

He gritted his teeth and said, "It's my fault. He told me to take Kugizaki away, and I did. He's left here all alone..."

"That's enough." Gojo Satoru's tone wasn't angry with him, which only made Fushiguro feel worse.

He placed his hand on Fu Hei's head and pressed down lightly.

"Where's Kugizaki?"

"I've already had Mr. Ijichi drive it back."

"Okay." Gojo Satoru stood up, put his blindfold back on, and hoisted the two people onto his shoulders. "Let's go back first."

......

The lights in the treatment room were blindingly bright.

Gojo Satoru gently laid Itachi's body flat on the platform.

The boy's body was already cold; the hole in his chest was temporarily sealed with a magical filling, but everyone knew it was just a formality.

Without a heart, a person cannot live.

He stepped back and sat back down in his chair.

Kiyotaka Ichichi stood at the door, his face looking worse than usual.

Gojo Satoru exhaled and said, "You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?" Ijichi's voice trembled.

"The opponent is a Special Grade, and they even sent a first-year student." Gojo Satoru's voice was calm. "If Mashiro hadn't called me, I wouldn't even have known."

"But I didn't know it would become a special-grade item when I went there..."

"Finding the culprit is troublesome," Gojo Satoru's voice was filled with murderous intent. "Why don't we just kill all those bastards up there?"

Ichiji held his breath, not daring to say another word.

At that moment, Shoko Ieiri came in. "It's rare to see you so emotional. You care about this child so much?"

"I've always been a good teacher," Gojo Satoru said, calming down upon seeing a familiar face. "Who issued the mission notification?"

"I checked," Ijichi's fingers trembled slightly as she opened the tablet. "The issuance record shows it was from the Spellcasting Specialty Affairs Division, but the process log was overwritten six hours after the task was assigned. The physically archived documents were taken away this morning, and the signature field is left blank."

"In other words, there are no names on the paper."

"Yes, the only trace is an automatic dispatch instruction in the electronic system that does not require an approver; technically anyone could do it."

Gojo Satoru remained silent.

Anyone can sign it. From a rule perspective, it's clean and flawless. The cleanest way is to never leave behind anyone who signs it, only the orders that must be executed.

The higher-ups don't need to sign their names; they just need to make sure that Gojo Satoru isn't in Tokyo, Mashiro isn't with Itadori, and then deliver the mission to the juvenile detention center on time.

"Is this the vessel for Sukuna?" Ieiri Shoko asked, looking at Itajima lying on the bed. "Can I dissect it as I please?"

"Do a good job, I still have to report back to his sister," Gojo Satoru nodded and said.

"Of course I'll do a good job. Who do you think you're talking to?"

Gojo Satoru gradually relaxed. With Shoko around, there might still be a way.

"What about Fukuro?" Gojo asked.

"In the hallway, he said he wanted to wait for Ms. Mashiro to arrive before leaving."

"Let him in."

Ichiji responded and went to call Fukuro Megumi.

When Fushiguro Megumi walked in, the wound on her shoulder had just been bandaged, and a small patch of dark red blood seeped out from under the bandage.

He stood by the door, not approaching the treatment table, his expression even colder and stiffer than usual. His gaze fell on Itadori, who was being examined by Ieiri Shoko, before quickly shifting away.

Gojo Satoru leaned against the wall: "How's Kugizaki?"

"Concussion, two broken ribs, should heal in three to four days." Fukuro Megumi's voice was hoarse. He paused for a moment, "Itadori... asked me to pass on one last message."

Gojo Satoru looked up at him.

"Take care of her for him." Fukuro Megumi repeated his last words, though without a subject, everyone knew who she was referring to. "He said, don't let her be too sad."

Gojo Satoru looked at Fushiguro Megumi, his right hand gripping the hem of his uniform tightly with his knuckles.

It wasn't just sadness, but also anger—anger at one's own powerlessness.

"The three of you went on the mission together, but he chose to stay behind to cover the rear," Gojo Satoru said. "This isn't your dereliction of duty, Fushiguro; it was his choice."

Fu Hei simply lowered his head and did not answer.

He understands, but how can he accept it?

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, quick and hurried, stopping at the door of the treatment room.

"Clang!"

The door slammed against the wall as it was pushed open, making a dull thud, and everyone in the treatment room looked over.

Mashiro stood at the door, her silver hair plastered messily to her cheeks. Her tracksuit still bore traces of corrosion left by Saitama's mission. Her breathing was rapid but gradually calmed down, and the rise and fall of her chest became smaller and smaller.

It's obvious they rushed here.

Her gaze passed over Gojo Satoru and Fushiguro, landing on the treatment table.

For a few seconds, there was not a sound in the room.

Mashiro paused for a moment, then strode into the room and stood in front of the treatment table.

Shoko Ieiri glanced at her, then silently stepped back a few paces, making room for her.

Mashiro looked down at Itajimaru's face, at that face that had lost all expression after death, at the lingering curve at the corner of his mouth.

The boy was indeed smiling in the end. He knew what his choice meant, and then calmly accepted his death.

I'm sorry, I'm such a bad older sister.

She raised her hand and gently brushed aside the tuft of pink hair on Huzhang's forehead that was clumped together with blood.

Then she withdrew her hand, letting it hang at her sides, her fingertips trembling slightly.

It wasn't because of sadness, and she wasn't sure, but it wasn't just that.

"From Saitama to Tokyo, from Kyoto to Tokyo, they really went to great lengths to find such a far-off location."

A murderous aura permeated the treatment room.

Gojo Satoru turned his head to the side, his gaze falling on her beneath his blindfold, but he didn't say anything.

She turned around to face the others in the room, her crimson eyes flashing with flames under the lamplight.

"Neither of you need to blame yourselves; this is my problem," she said. "Fu Hei, did he say anything?"

Fu Hei looked up at her; the girl's expression was calm.

But the flames burning in those crimson eyes made him realize that the angrier she was, the calmer she became, and the calmer she became, the more terrifying she was.

"He said someone taught him to help others, and someone else taught him how precious life is." Fuhei slowly began, conveying to her every last word of Itachi's words. "He said the time was almost up, and he was still thinking about protecting you in the future, and then he said..."

Fuhei paused for a moment, then said, "He told us to live longer."

Mashiro stood there, looking at Fushiro, her lips moved slightly, then she lowered her head, her silver hair obscuring her face.

A few seconds later, when she raised her head, her expression was just as calm as before.

"Live a little longer," she said, gently stroking his hair again, "when did it become your place to lecture me?"

Mashiro took two steps back, handed the seat back to Shoko, nodded to her, and said, "Thank you for your help."

Then she turned to Gojo Satoru, the murderous intent in her voice gradually subsiding, "Gojo Satoru, they will pay the price."

Gojo Satoru straightened up and patted the wrinkles on his uniform. "Ijichi, go and rest first, we'll talk about the rest later. Mashiro, stay here, come to me if you have any problems. Fushiguro, you go and rest too."

Ichichi nodded, turned around, and quickly walked out of the treatment room.

Fushiguro glanced at Mashiro, then followed Ijichi out.

After the door closed, Gojo Satoru walked to Mashiro's side. "Shall we go out first?"

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