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

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 will 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 visit 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."

"Ah."

"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,” Itari 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 put down his hand that was 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 gently 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 moving 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 had been 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 in her tracks without turning around. "What?"

"Nothing, I 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 is it now?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to shout again!" Itarō, leaning on 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?"

"Ah."

"What about your sister?"

"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, twitched his lips, and said nothing more.

These siblings are quite extraordinary.

"Ah."

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 such a person."