Small fry

Mashiro stood by the window, looking outside.

In the rain-veiled world, dozens of faint traces of cursed energy rose from every corner of the city, as though something were drawing them slowly toward the school.

The seal on Sukuna's Finger was growing weaker. It wasn't just attracting the big ones, but even more of these small fry.

Still, small fry would do. She could treat them as dessert before Sukuna appeared.

"I'll clear out these small fry today. That should make things a little easier when the day comes," she murmured, casually drawing a smiley face on the fogged glass.

From Tokyo to Sendai, she had fought several fierce battles and absorbed plenty of cursed energy. Both its quality and quantity within her body had improved considerably.

She was no longer at her old level.

And ever since reaching Grade 2, she had felt that something was different. It wasn't just the increase in cursed energy; some of the abilities within her body had evolved as well.

I might as well test them while I'm out. Murasame seems to have upgraded too.

She slung the instrument bag over her back and touched Murasame's hilt. The blade trembled gently, as though it had already become an extension of her arm.

Today's target was the abandoned shrine northwest of the school. There were far more than just one or two cursed spirits there.

With no one making offerings or cleaning it for so long, the shrine had fallen into ruin. The torii leaned crookedly, and broken stone lanterns lay scattered on the ground.

But that wasn't all Mashiro saw. At least thirty cursed spirits crowded the shrine's courtyard.

Most were Fly Heads, writhing slowly. A dozen or so Grade 3s darted through the ruins, along with five or six Grade 2s of various shapes, each radiating considerable resentment.

Surprisingly, they hadn't started fighting among themselves. They simply huddled there, howling in all sorts of ways, all looking toward the school.

"All gathered in one place, huh? Perfect." Mashiro gripped the scabbard and pushed the blade out an inch with her thumb, revealing its cold gleam. She walked up the stone steps and passed beneath the torii.

Almost the instant her foot touched the ground, every cursed spirit in the courtyard stopped. An eerie silence settled over the shrine.

"Hey, small fry! Your terminator is here!" Mashiro's taunt proved spectacularly effective.

Every cursed spirit turned toward her in unison, their resentment reaching its peak.

"Oh? Just going to stare?" Mashiro slowly settled into position, tied up her silver hair, then drew Murasame and held the blade across her body. "If you won't come to me, I'll come to you."

The air froze for a second.

The first Grade 3 cursed spirit moved. Resembling a wild dog with a twisted body, it folded its hind legs, kicked off hard, and lunged at her with its bloody maw wide open. A dozen more Grade 3s followed, attacking from different directions at once. The Grade 2s behind them began charging their attacks, while the Fly Heads prepared to flee instead.

"Don't run. You'll spoil the fun."

Silver light flashed. The first cursed spirit to reach her was cleaved in two, its black smoke absorbed by Murasame. She immediately channeled her cursed energy, conjuring dozens of spatial rifts that wiped out every Fly Head.

"Mm, Space Cutting is perfect for clearing out small fry." Mashiro nodded in satisfaction. Close enough to cosplaying Sukuna, really.

The instant deaths of their companions didn't scare the others off. More attacks came.

One on her left snapped at her leg, another on her right clawed at her waist, and one directly ahead leaped high before diving down.

A three-sided assault.

Mashiro turned sideways, letting the teeth on her left graze her thigh without leaving a wound. At the same time, she swung her blade with her right hand, severing the claws reaching for her from the right. Then she ducked, making the one overhead miss, but more attacks struck her immediately afterward.

Click, click. The Dharma Wheel above her head turned.

But the effect of her adaptation startled Mashiro. She was adapting to several different attacks at once.

Previously, if multiple different attacks hit her simultaneously, the Dharma Wheel would struggle to keep up.

Now, however, her adaptive ability seemed to have divided into several sections, analyzing and adapting in parallel.

I can adapt to multiple attacks at once.

While she was delighting in her upgraded ability, the attacks charged by those Grade 2 cursed spirits struck her.

"That hurts, you bastards." She reached out, sending several blasts of flame surging toward the Grade 2 cursed spirits and clinging to their bodies.

"Aaargh!" The Grade 2 cursed spirits scrambled and rolled, trying to extinguish the flames on their bodies, but it was futile.

"Come on. Let me adapt a little longer. Once I'm done, you'll die."

Murasame swept across, cutting two lunging Grade 3s in half at the waist. Powerful cursed energy flowed from the blade into her body, strengthening her abilities further.

More cursed spirits surged forward. Five, eight, ten.

Bites, scratches, body slams, jets of acid, spikes thrusting out of shadows.

Mashiro moved among them. Rather than trying to dodge everything, she deliberately controlled which attacks struck her.

She took a body slam squarely on her left shoulder, feeling the force of the blunt impact. She let acid graze her right leg, registering the pain of corrosion. She deliberately allowed a shadow spike to scratch her back, analyzing its cold, sinister cursed energy.

Every new type of attack that struck her gave the Dharma Wheel another kind to record. With each one recorded, her resistance increased a little, and her body's toughness rose another notch.

At first, the wounds on her body multiplied, and blood stained a large patch of her clothes red. Soon, however, things began to change. Their attacks could no longer inflict meaningful damage.

Meanwhile, Mashiro kept swinging Murasame, slashing, cleaving, sweeping, and thrusting.

Faster, more precise, more ruthless.

With every flash of silver, several clouds of black smoke rose. Murasame absorbed cursed energy faster and faster.

She could feel that Murasame's special effectiveness against cursed spirits had grown stronger. Cutting down Grade 2s used to take some effort. Now it was as easy as slicing paper.

The ability to sever cursed energy had grown stronger too. Some weaker ranged attacks could now be dispersed with a casual slash.

Before long, the last moth cursed spirit dove at her with a shriek, scattering scales laden with sleep-inducing powder.

Mashiro hopped half a step back and swept Murasame upward, slicing the moth open from belly to back.

The courtyard fell silent.

The ground was a mess. The corpses of more than thirty cursed spirits gave off a tremendous stench, then quickly dissipated into the air.

Mashiro stood in the center of the courtyard, leaning on her sword. A few deep breaths slowly calmed her down.

She looked herself over. Her clothes were torn in many places and seeped blood, but the wounds were all superficial and already healing.

Cursed energy surged inside her, nearly thirty percent more than when she had arrived. Murasame grew slightly warm in her hand, giving a faint, satisfied hum.

She flicked the blood from the blade, restoring Murasame's gleaming finish, then sheathed her.

Using the cursed techniques she had learned earlier-Space Cutting to clear out small fry, flames to deal extra damage or hold enemies back-proved smoother than she had expected. Combined with Murasame's slashes and her body's adaptation, they made the cleanup far more efficient.

Most importantly, her adaptation no longer had to fear being mobbed. The more varied their attacks, the faster she learned, and the easier things became later on.

"Not a bad haul." She smiled faintly, then turned and left the shrine.

Clearing out that large group should ease the pressure around the school for a day or two. But the finger's pulses were still growing stronger. The next wave would only be larger.

I'll leave that to Jujutsu High and whoever they bring along. It should be in the next couple of days, anyway.

Back at the apartment, Mashiro showered, changed into loungewear, and stretched. Her long silver-white hair hung loose again, lending her a hint of languid beauty.

Mashiro curled up on the sofa and took out her phone. There was an unread message on LINE, with a pink cartoon tiger as the profile picture.