The Night Before

It was still dark when Mashiro returned to her apartment.

She took off her shoes in the entryway, tossed her dust-covered jacket into the washing machine, and headed into the bathroom.

As the hot water poured over her, she closed her eyes and took stock of what she had gained that night.

After Murasame drained Hanami's severed arm dry, the cursed energy inside her had far surpassed that of an ordinary Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer. She could now hold her own against a Special Grade Cursed Spirit at full strength.

Then there was the matter of domains.

Mashiro had watched Jogo's domain, Coffin of the Iron Mountain, from its initial expansion to its collapse, leaving an incomplete imprint in the Dharma Wheel.

The way the barrier was constructed, the flow of cursed energy through the cursed technique inside the domain, the transition points where an innate domain manifested from within the body into the surrounding space.

She understood all of these only roughly. Since she had never fully endured the damage and pressure inflicted by a Domain Expansion, she had not completely adapted.

She came out of the bathroom and stood in the middle of the living room, her hair still wet.

A vast amount of cursed energy surged out. Silvery-white light spread beneath her feet, attempting to form a domain.

Its hazy boundaries extended less than half a meter before bursting like a soap bubble.

Mashiro frowned, tapping her fingers against the side of her thigh as she thought.

It was not just that her understanding of domains still fell short. Even all the cursed energy she currently possessed could not produce so much as a rudimentary form.

Did Domain Expansion really consume that much cursed energy?

Or was it because she was fundamentally Mahoraga, making her a special case?

Mashiro sighed and gave up thinking about it.

She could not figure it out now anyway. Better to wait until both her understanding of domains and her reserves of cursed energy had improved.

Mashiro gathered the water droplets on her body and tossed them into the sink, then changed into loungewear.

Just as she was about to get into bed, her phone screen lit up.

It was a LINE message from Itadori, a selfie from his training session.

The goofy pink-haired jock was drenched in sweat, giving a thumbs-up with the drab walls of the underground training room behind him.

"Yuji": image.jpg

"Yuji": Gojo-sensei said a few more days of training and I'll be ready for the exchange event (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Mashiro looked at the photo for a moment, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Mashiro": Don't push yourself too hard.

"Yuji": You're the one who needs to hear that, Mashiro.

"Yuji": I'm going to get some rest now. Good night (¦3[▓▓]

"Mashiro": Good night.

She turned off the screen and left her phone charging beside her pillow. With a single bedside lamp still on, she slowly drifted off to sleep.

When Mashiro woke up, the light slipping through the gap in the curtains had already turned orange.

Afternoon in Tokyo.

She buried her face in her pillow and stayed there for a few seconds.

Then she rolled over, the blanket winding twice around her waist. Her hair lay in a tangled mess across the pillow, a few silver strands sticking straight up.

Her eyes barely opened to slits as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

There was a tiny crack in the ceiling. She stared at it for quite a while without thinking about anything.

The phone on her bedside table suddenly rang.

Mashiro ignored it and buried her head deeper into the pillow.

About thirty seconds later, the phone began vibrating again.

An arm emerged from beneath the blanket, groped around on the bedside table twice, and pulled out the charging cable.

The phone slid onto the floor, still ringing.

Mashiro rolled over and leaned off the edge of the bed, feeling around on the floor.

Her fingers brushed the phone case. She picked it up, its screen painfully bright.

"Incoming call: Satoru Gojo"

She swiped to answer and pressed the phone to her ear without saying anything.

"Hello? Hellooo? Still alive?" Satoru Gojo's voice came through the speaker, as flippant as ever.

"...Mm," Mashiro answered groggily.

"What's with that voice? Did you just wake up? Do you know what time it is?"

Mashiro lowered the phone to check the time on its screen. Three twenty-four in the afternoon.

She put it back to her ear. "...Three twenty. What?"

Satoru Gojo laughed. "So even you sleep in."

"Why wouldn't I?" Mashiro's voice was still a little low and husky from sleep. "You don't need to because you get unlimited refills."

"What the hell are unlimited refills?"

Mashiro did not explain. She pulled the blanket higher, tucked up her knees, and curled into a small ball, leaving only her face and the hand holding her phone exposed.

"So, what is it?"

Satoru Gojo paused on the other end, his tone turning serious. "We've tracked down all three addresses. How do you want to split them?"

Curled beneath the blanket, Mashiro took a deep breath.

Then she opened her eyes, clarity returning to her red gaze.

"We don't. Leave all of them to me."

There was a second of silence on the other end before Satoru Gojo returned to his usual casual tone. "Do we gather them together, or deal with them separately?"

"Separately."

"Hikaru Sato can sense cursed energy. He'll know if you get within three hundred meters of him."

"It doesn't matter if he knows. He's not a Special Grade Cursed Spirit. He won't get away."

Satoru Gojo chuckled. "Then I'll wait in the car. Ijichi says he wants triple overtime pay tonight."

"Then pay him."

"I don't handle payroll. That's headquarters' job."

"Then tell Ijichi to ask for ten times the allowance."

"...They're not going to approve that, are they?"

"Tch."

"See you tonight, then."

The phone screen went dark. Mashiro remained on her side, her hand resting on the pillow with the phone still in it.

The blanket had sealed her in. She could not get up.

She stared at the end of the charging cable on the bedside table for two seconds, sighed, and finally sat up slowly.

The blanket slipped down into a pile around her waist, and her hair fell across half her face.

She shook her head, clearing the hair from her face and revealing her delicate, adorable features.

Three people.

Yawning, she set her bare feet on the floor and headed toward the bathroom.

Ten seconds later, the sound of running water began.

Before long, Mashiro finished washing up and came back out.

Her hair was tied up, her red eyes were clear, and her expression had become calm and cold.

She was the Kujo Mashiro everyone knew.

She picked up her phone and called Nanami.

"Nanami, did you find out about their cursed techniques?"

The rustle of turning pages came from the other end.

"I did." Nanami's voice was as low as ever. "Hikaru Sato is a Grade 3 Jujutsu Sorcerer. His cursed technique is low-level cursed energy perception. Sakakibara Shigeru and Yoshio Tanaka don't even qualify for a grade. I've sent you all three addresses."

Mashiro looked at the three lines of addresses that appeared on her screen.

"Got it."

"Be careful. Preferably, don't leave any evidence," Nanami reminded her calmly.

Mashiro was silent for a moment before asking, "You're not going to stop me?"

There was a brief silence on the other end before his voice returned. "I was the one who messaged you about taking that emergency assignment. I bear some responsibility."

"Besides, they dared to use me to plot the murder of a minor. They should pay for it." A murderous edge entered his voice, then softened again after a pause.

"Jujutsu sorcerers are all shit. The Higher-Ups even more so. Be careful."

"Mm. I will."

After hanging up, she zipped her jacket all the way up, pushed open the door, and left.