The lawyer and the maxim

She left the station and headed west.

She had sensed a stronger cursed energy presence there last night. She could check it out today.

At ten in the morning, Mashiro arrived in an old commercial district on Tokyo's western outskirts.

Most of the buildings here had been built twenty or thirty years ago, and over half were abandoned. The streets were quiet, with few pedestrians, and the concentration of cursed energy was noticeably higher than in central Shibuya.

She stopped in front of an abandoned office building.

There was a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit inside. Its presence was murky, carrying a hint of decay.

Although it was a level that even someone as skilled as Megumi Fushiguro could barely handle, she was still full of confidence.

"This one will do."

She gripped Murasame's hilt and entered the building.

The battle lasted twenty minutes.

The cursed spirit resembled a rotting corpse. Its body was putrefying, and it could spray corrosive pus and extend tentacles from its wounds to entangle her.

Mashiro suffered at first. Pus struck her left arm, instantly eating away a large patch of skin. The pain nearly made her lose her grip on her sword.

But she did not retreat. Instead, she charged straight into its attacks.

Click, click.

She let the pus spray her body again and again, let the tentacles wrap around her limbs again and again.

Adapt, adapt, adapt.

When the pus hit her for the tenth time, she felt that the pain of its corrosion had diminished by seventy percent. The tentacles' grip felt weak, too. With a little effort, she could snap them apart.

Then she struck.

Murasame sliced through the rotting corpse's neck. The cursed spirit fell, turning into black smoke that Murasame absorbed. Mashiro felt the cursed energy inside her rise another notch.

"Grade 2 cursed spirits really do give me more cursed energy," she estimated. "To reach Grade 2, another seven or eight like this should be enough."

She could now exorcise Grade 2 cursed spirits on her own. Her combat strength was on Megumi Fushiguro's level.

"Maybe I should go to Sendai and get in touch with Itadori. It should be about time."

She pondered this as she walked out of the abandoned office building into the harsh sunlight.

The festering wound on her left arm was already healing, but the new skin was tender and reddened slightly in the sun. She pulled down her sleeve to cover it and kept walking.

At one in the afternoon, Mashiro bought a yakisoba bun and some bottled water from a roadside stall on a shopping street, then sat on a park bench to eat.

There were few people in the park. A few elderly people sat playing chess in the distance, and a mother walked past pushing a stroller.

She ate her bun, her gaze sweeping over her surroundings.

Then she spotted someone.

A man in his twenties or thirties, dressed in a plain suit and carrying a briefcase, sat on a nearby bench with his head lowered over a document.

He was reading intently, his brow slightly furrowed, occasionally making notes with a pen.

Mashiro's gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds.

That face... looked familiar.

She searched her memories.

The manga, the plot, the characters...

She remembered.

Hiromi Higuruma.

The lawyer who awakened his cursed technique during the Culling Game.

Right now, he had not yet awakened his cursed technique. He was just an ordinary person.

Mashiro continued eating her bun, but did not look away.

Hiromi Higuruma seemed to have run into a problem. He put down the document, rubbed between his brows, and sighed.

Then he raised his head and met Mashiro's gaze.

They looked at each other for a few seconds.

Hiromi Higuruma froze for a moment, then offered a gentle, professional smile and nodded lightly at her. Mashiro looked away without expression and continued eating her yakisoba bun.

But Hiromi Higuruma did not seem inclined to let that chance exchange of glances end there.

He put away the document, stood up, straightened the hem of his suit jacket, and walked toward Mashiro.

Mashiro did not look up, but her grip on the bun tightened slightly.

"Excuse me." Hiromi Higuruma stopped two steps from the bench, his voice gentle and polite. "I noticed you've been sitting here alone for a while. I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, but you look... as though you might need help?"

Mashiro slowly swallowed the bread in her mouth and raised her head.

Up close, Hiromi Higuruma looked a little younger than he did in the manga, though fine lines had already appeared at the corners of his eyes.

Thirty-six years old, a public defender-that was who he was now. His suit was an inexpensive off-the-rack piece, but neatly pressed. His leather shoes were worn around the edges, but polished clean.

Everything about him conveyed a seriousness that bordered on rigidity.

He was a character she respected.

He was a character she liked.

Mashiro suppressed some of the excitement of meeting a character from the original story and answered as calmly as she could. "I don't."

"I see." Hiromi Higuruma did not leave immediately. His gaze lingered on Mashiro for a moment, taking in her obviously oversized baseball cap, her slightly damaged black tracksuit, the unnatural bulge at her waist, and the few shallow, scabbed scratches on her exposed wrist.

"If you're having difficulties, you can contact a social welfare organization, or..." He paused, took a business card from his briefcase, and offered it with both hands.

"I'm a lawyer. Although I mainly handle criminal defense cases, I also know a little about the laws concerning the protection of minors. If you need legal advice, you can contact me. The first consultation is free."

The business card was plain, with black lettering on a white background. It listed only his name, affiliation, and contact information.

Mashiro looked at the card without taking it right away.

A breeze drifted gently through the park, carrying the sound of children laughing in the distance.

"Hiromi Higuruma, attorney." She read the name on the business card softly.

"Yes." Hiromi Higuruma continued holding out the card.

Mashiro finally reached out and took it. The card carried a faint scent of paper and felt solid in her hand.

She stared at the lettering for two seconds, then looked up at Hiromi Higuruma.

"Do you believe in rules?" she asked suddenly.

Hiromi Higuruma was taken aback, but then answered seriously. "As a legal professional, I believe rules are the foundation that keeps society functioning."

"What if the rules themselves are flawed?" Mashiro continued. "What if they protect people who shouldn't be protected and punish people who shouldn't be punished? What would you do?"

The question clearly went beyond ordinary small talk. Hiromi Higuruma straightened, frowning slightly, but still considered it seriously before answering. "The legal system has mechanisms for correcting itself. If a rule is found to be unjust, it can be amended through legislative procedures, judicial interpretations, the development of case law, and other avenues. That is part of what gives a legal professional's work meaning."

A textbook answer.

An answer very much like Hiromi Higuruma.

A faint smile curved Mashiro's lips.

"I see." She slipped the business card into her pocket and stood up from the bench. She only reached Hiromi Higuruma's chest, but Higuruma could not decipher the look in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

"Mr. Higuruma, you're a good person," she said. "In this world, good people often lead exhausting lives."

Mashiro understood that he was the type to toil tirelessly for the justice he believed in. Her advice might not have any effect.

Hiromi Higuruma opened his mouth as though to say something, but Mashiro did not give him the chance.

"You believe in rules. That's a good thing. But one day, you'll face a predicament that rules can't solve. You'll encounter evil that can't be measured by the letter of the law. You'll meet enemies who mock you from behind loopholes in the rules."

Her voice was calm and her gaze direct, keeping Higuruma listening intently.

"When that time comes, remember one thing." Mashiro pressed her cap down, her crimson eyes looking especially deep in the shadow beneath its brim. "Rules are tools, not shackles. When you truly want to pass judgment on something, you need more than the letter of the law."

She raised a hand and pointed at Hiromi Higuruma's heart.

"You need the resolve to make the rules work for you."

With that, she turned and left without looking at Hiromi Higuruma's expression.

Hiromi Higuruma stood where he was, watching her retreating figure as his brow furrowed more and more deeply. He instinctively pressed a hand to his chest, as though the spot she had pointed to still retained the touch of her fingertip.

"Rules are tools... the resolve to pass judgment..." he repeated quietly. He kept feeling that some important message lay hidden in those words, but he had no idea what it was. "Who was that girl?"

Meanwhile, Mashiro had already left the park and rejoined the flow of pedestrians on the street.

She touched the business card in her pocket, her fingertips brushing over the name "Hiromi Higuruma."

"That's all I can do," she murmured to herself. "I can't do much about the rest."

She did not know how much influence those few words might have on the future.

Perhaps Hiromi Higuruma would forget this strange little silver-haired girl by tomorrow. Perhaps her words would leave something in his heart that would take root and sprout on the day the Culling Game arrived.

For now, at least, she had enjoyed playing the cryptic stranger.

Mashiro raised her head and looked at the sky to the west. The afternoon sunlight was a little dazzling. She tugged at her cap's brim and kept walking.

There were still cursed spirits to exorcise.

There was still power to build up.

Right now, she was still far too weak.