Kento Nanami

The sunset gilded the park in gold, its lingering light also falling on a figure passing by.

Kento Nanami.

His name flashed through Mashiro's mind. She had finally seen him in the flesh.

Kento Nanami stopped at the park entrance and looked around before fixing his gaze on the girl gathering up her trash.

Mashiro stopped what she was doing and calmly met his gaze. Beneath the shadow of her cap's brim, her crimson eyes betrayed little emotion.

Kento Nanami started walking again, heading toward Mashiro.

He adjusted the round glasses on his nose, his eyes coolly assessing her from behind the lenses.

The strange wheel above her head.

Her arm wrapped in fresh bandages, the dark bloodstains and tears in her tracksuit, the sports bag casually left on the bench, covered in dust and suspicious dark stains, and the weapon at her waist, obvious at a glance despite the jacket covering it.

His gaze lingered on the weapon for half a second before returning to Mashiro's face, smeared with blood and dust. Silver hair poked untidily out from under her cap, and her vivid crimson eyes stared at him without blinking.

An underage girl who looked unlike ordinary people, covered in injuries, carrying a weapon, and sitting alone in a park.

Any adult with common sense would have found this unusual, and Kento Nanami clearly had plenty of common sense. His understanding of the world also included cursed energy, cursed spirits, and jujutsu sorcerers.

He came no closer, remaining a short distance away as he greeted her evenly. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," Mashiro replied. Her voice was a little dry from eating earlier, so she casually unscrewed the water bottle beside her and took a sip.

"You're injured." Nanami stated the fact, his gaze lingering on the bandages around her arm. His tone softened slightly. "Do you need help? There's a medical facility nearby I can contact. Or, if you'd like, I can take you to the infirmary at Jujutsu High. Their treatment is more specialized."

"No need." Mashiro set down the bottle and shook her head. The movement tugged at the wound on her back, making her press her lips together almost imperceptibly.

"Just flesh wounds. They've been treated. Jujutsu High is too far away, and..." She looked up at Nanami, her meaning clear. "Going there looking like this might cause unnecessary misunderstandings and trouble, wouldn't it, Mr. Kento Nanami?"

She had addressed him by name.

"You know me?" Nanami's gaze sharpened, his tone cooling a few degrees.

He rapidly sifted through the possibilities. A child from a jujutsu sorcerer family? Someone connected to the higher-ups? Or something more troublesome?

"A Grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer affiliated with Jujutsu High, known for being meticulous and reliable." Mashiro recited what she knew about him in a flat tone. "I've heard of you. Your features are distinctive. Blond hair, glasses, a suit, everything immaculate. You're easy to recognize."

Kento Nanami fell silent for a moment. Though he did not think he was famous enough for even children to recognize him, he chose to move past the subject.

"Those injuries," he said, his gaze passing over Mashiro's arm and weapon, "did you get them fighting cursed spirits?"

"Yes," Mashiro answered without hesitation. "Three Grade 2s, in that apartment building to the north that's due for demolition. They've already been exorcised."

Nanami's brow furrowed slightly. Three Grade 2s. Judging by the cursed energy he could sense from this child, that seemed unlikely.

"You dealt with them alone?"

"Who else?" Mashiro tilted her head. The cute gesture looked a little unsettling on her injured face. "It was just me and them in there."

Nanami was silent for several seconds, studying Mashiro's eyes.

There was no sign of a lie, at least where the fight was concerned. But three Grade 2s were simply hard to believe for someone of her level.

This child either possessed an extraordinarily unusual cursed technique or had combat talent far beyond the norm.

Or perhaps both.

"Your name?" Nanami asked.

"Kujo Mashiro."

"Age?"

"Twelve." Mashiro gave this body's age without a change in expression.

"Your family?"

"They're gone." Mashiro's tone was flat, as though she were discussing someone else. "I'm the last surviving member of the Kujo family. The family fell apart long ago. I live alone now."

The Kujo family.

Nanami searched his memory for the surname. A fallen jujutsu sorcerer family-there did seem to be records of them, but their decline had begun at least several decades ago.

If she was telling the truth, this child's situation was even more complicated.

An ancient jujutsu sorcerer bloodline, an unusual appearance, surviving alone, forced to hunt cursed spirits to make a living.

Her blunt account of her circumstances left Nanami silent. Among the people he had met, it was rare to find someone who made no attempt to conceal their hardship and even spoke of it with a certain matter-of-fact confidence. Especially a child.

"You said you live alone." Nanami adjusted his glasses, his gaze growing more serious behind the lenses. "Are you short of money right now?"

"Yes." Mashiro nodded without hesitation and patted the flat pocket of her tracksuit. "I still haven't got enough for somewhere to stay tonight, and I'm nowhere near covering the fare to Sendai. So if you have a suitable job at a reasonable price, I can take it. Those three Grade 2s just proved my professional competence."

"Sendai?" He repeated the place name, but did not dwell on it.

"Yes. Personal business." Mashiro offered no further explanation. She watched Nanami, a faint gleam shifting in her crimson eyes. "But since I happened to run into you, Mr. Nanami... are you on a mission around here? Did Window detect a cursed spirit? Grade 1, or Special Grade?"

She asked so naturally, with such familiarity, and had even correctly guessed that the mission might be a high-level one. Nanami's opinion of her rose another notch.

"Window's report indicates signs of a Grade 1 cursed spirit nearby. Distinctive characteristics, highly aggressive. I'm on my way to confirm it." Kento Nanami held nothing back. He was curious what Mashiro would say once she knew.

"Grade 1... an offensive type?" Mashiro narrowed her eyes slightly, a flash of eagerness flickering deep within her crimson gaze. "Perfect. Can you take me along?"

"Take you along? It's too dangerous." Nanami's tone was stern. "A Grade 1 cursed spirit is no joke. People can die, and your injuries haven't healed yet."

"But that's how the weak think." Mashiro stepped closer, a hint of wildness in her crimson eyes as she stared straight into Kento Nanami's.

"If this kills me, then Kujo Mashiro was meant to die here."

Her decisiveness confirmed it for Nanami once more: this child was anything but ordinary.

"Follow me." He said no more, turning and walking out of the park with steady strides.

"The target location is an abandoned shrine to the north. The cursed spirit is suspected to be the Blazing Inferno Monk. Its distinguishing feature is a combination of intense flames and physical strikes. Your job is to keep it occupied as best you can while I take the lead, protect yourself, and look for an opening. If you're badly injured or can't keep going, retreat immediately. Understood?"

He spoke as he walked, his pace measured and his instructions clear as he began laying out their tactics.

"Understood. Keep it busy, take a beating, look for an opening, and run if I can't handle it." Mashiro quickly summed it up and hurried after him, sounding as relaxed as if they were discussing dinner. "What about payment?"

"...If you provide effective support, eight hundred thousand yen." Nanami named a figure. Though it was already above the usual support fee for a Grade 1 mission, he felt this girl was worth the price. Or rather, that she might need it.

"Deal!" Mashiro's eyes lit up, and she tightened her grip on Murasame at her waist.