9 p.m., Saitama.
Yoshio Tanaka's family home was an old detached house, with several roof tiles missing and knee-high weeds in the yard.
The living room light was on, and muffled sounds from the television drifted outside.
Mashiro entered through the back door, silently severing the lock with Space Cutting.
Yoshio Tanaka sat on the sofa watching a late-night variety show. Half a beer sat on the table, and his laptop was open, its encrypted email interface still on the screen.
He heard something and turned his head.
Mashiro's crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Yoshio Tanaka shuddered and whipped around.
A rat glanced at him, then scurried away.
He exhaled and wiped away his cold sweat. "Just a rat."
He turned back, intending to keep watching the show, only to find someone suddenly standing before him.
Yoshio Tanaka screamed in fright. After taking a closer look, his eyes widened. "You're that..."
Mashiro had no intention of wasting words on him. Murasame pierced his heart.
One thrust.
His mouth hung open, but no words came out.
The beer can rolled off the table and struck the floor. The remaining beer spilled onto the tatami, leaving a stain.
Mashiro made Murasame intangible and withdrew it, then picked up the laptop.
The sender of the encrypted email on the screen was listed as "Kazanin."
She took a photo, closed the laptop, and tucked it against her chest.
The comedian's laughter from the variety show filled the silent room.
Then a fire burned everything away.
10:15 p.m., Nerima Ward.
Sakakibara Shigeru's apartment was on the fifth floor. Mashiro climbed the stairs; two lights in the corridor were broken.
She reached her target's door and knocked.
The door opened. Sakakibara Shigeru wore glasses and still held a fountain pen.
His pupils contracted the instant he saw Mashiro, but he wasn't as surprised as Yoshio Tanaka had been.
"Kujo Mashiro," he said.
"Yes."
Sakakibara Shigeru took a step back, tightening his right hand around the pen. Its nib traced an arc through the air.
The documents on the desk flew up with a rustle. Their edges glimmered with cursed energy as they hurtled toward Mashiro like a swarm of spinning blades.
The first paper blade cut her cheek, leaving a shallow mark.
Click, click.
The second struck the same spot and shattered.
Sakakibara Shigeru kept tracing arcs with his pen, sending more paper into the air. He had already retreated to the window, his left hand fumbling behind his back for the latch.
Mashiro walked straight through the surrounding paper blades. Wherever they struck her body, they failed to cut even her clothes.
Murasame swept horizontally.
The pen split in two, and the fingers holding it fell to the floor with it.
Sakakibara Shigeru looked down at his severed fingers. Before he could scream, the second thrust had already pierced his heart.
Mashiro pulled the blade free. Blood stained the papers scattered across the floor.
Water surged through, washing away every trace.
She picked up Sakakibara Shigeru's corpse and threw it into a lake.
11:40 p.m., Minato Ward.
Hikaru Sato lived on the twenty-third floor.
Tokyo Tower was visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. By this hour, more than half its lights had gone out.
Mashiro climbed one floor at a time. She knew Hikaru Sato could sense the fluctuations of her cursed energy drawing closer with every step.
Soon, she reached his door. It stood wide open.
Mashiro raised her eyes and looked inside.
Every light was on. A half-packed suitcase stood in the entryway, and the living room was empty.
"A little later than I expected."
The voice came from in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Hikaru Sato stood with his back to the entrance, the index and middle fingers of his right hand held together and resting lightly against his temple.
Mashiro stopped without speaking.
"You went to Saitama and Nerima first." Hikaru Sato turned around.
His eyes glimmered faintly with cursed energy as his cursed technique activated.
His senses precisely mapped the distribution of cursed energy throughout the room. The flow of cursed energy inside Mashiro was as clear as if it were lit by a searchlight.
"Those two are already dead, aren't they?"
Mashiro didn't answer. Murasame materialized in her right hand.
Hikaru Sato drew a cursed tool dagger, its blade glinting coldly, and lowered his center of gravity.
"You're not the first person to go after Kazanin," he said, then charged at Mashiro. "But there are people above him. You can't kill them all."
The dagger stabbed toward Mashiro's left shoulder at a precise angle.
Hikaru Sato's cursed energy perception let him read the flow of his opponent's cursed energy in advance. His strike slipped into the weakest gap in her defenses.
But it was useless. It didn't leave so much as a scratch.
Hikaru Sato's pupils contracted sharply.
Murasame swept upward, cutting through his dagger-wielding left wrist. Its blade emerged from the back of his hand.
Hikaru Sato gritted his teeth, stifling his cry.
Rather than let go, he pressed down with his impaled left wrist, trying to trap Murasame in the bone, while his right hand reached for Mashiro's throat.
Mashiro kept her grip on the hilt. A Space Cutting slash appeared and severed his right hand.
Hikaru Sato dropped to his knees, both hands ruined. His dagger fell to the floor, bounced once, and slid beneath the sofa.
Mashiro pulled Murasame out of Hikaru Sato's left wrist.
Hikaru Sato looked down at his dangling arms, then up at Mashiro.
He smiled bitterly, resigned to his fate.
"Fair enough... you'll find out sooner or later anyway..."
Murasame pierced his throat.
Blood cut his words short.
Sound waves reverberated, shattering everything in the room.
Hikaru Sato's body was hurled out through the window and fell, smashing into the ground beyond recognition.
She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and glanced at the reflection of Tokyo Tower's last few lights.
Then she turned and left.
At 1 a.m., Ijichi's car was parked by the roadside in Minato Ward.
Mashiro opened the door and sat in the back seat.
Satoru Gojo was in the passenger seat, his legs propped on the glove compartment as he played on his phone.
He looked up at Mashiro through the rearview mirror. Apart from a small bloodstain on her cuff, she looked no different from before she had left the car.
"All three taken care of?"
"Yes."
"What about the person above him?"
"Hikaru Sato named Kazanin before he died. And there are more people above him."
Satoru Gojo slipped his phone into his pocket. "Kazanin handles budget approvals at Jujutsu Headquarters in Kyoto. Going after him will provoke a full-scale backlash from the Higher-Ups."
Mashiro tapped her fingers lightly against her knee.
"Leave him for now. We'll deal with him after the exchange event."
"Are you sure the exchange event will go smoothly?"
Mashiro glanced at him. "We're leaving it until afterward precisely because it won't."
Satoru Gojo nodded without asking any more questions. He pulled his blindfold into place and leaned back against the headrest.
Ijichi started the car.
At 2 a.m., Mashiro returned to her apartment.
She set Yoshio Tanaka's laptop on the table and opened it.
She had already sent the screenshot of the encrypted email to Nanami.
Nanami's reply came quickly.
"Nanami": Kazanin reports directly to the administrative bureau at Jujutsu Headquarters. He controls both budget approvals and task priority scheduling for the Window System. Hikaru Sato was his direct subordinate.
"Mashiro": Understood. I'll leave him alone for now.
"Nanami": All right.
Mashiro sat on the sofa, turned off her phone, and closed her eyes to think.
The three men carrying out the orders were dead. Kazanin, the man giving those orders, was still alive, and there were others above him.
There were nine days left until the Sister-School Exchange Event.
Another 4,000 words tonight.
Before you continue