An adult's responsibility

BOOOOM-!!!

Flames from the explosion shot into the sky, and a scorching blast hurled rubble and dust into the air. The entire shrine clearing shook.

Nanami was driven back several steps by the blast, his heart sinking.

At the center of an explosion like that, even I would struggle to escape unscathed. That girl...

The flames and dust slowly cleared, revealing a shallow crater in the middle of the clearing.

The Blazing Inferno Monk stood motionless, the flames around its neck much dimmer.

At the edge of the crater, a petite figure knelt on one knee, Murasame plunged deep into the ground to keep herself from falling.

Her tracksuit had all but become charred strips of cloth. Horrific blisters and scorch marks covered her exposed skin, a section of her silver hair had burned away, and her face was streaked black and red. She was a wreck. But she was still alive.

She raised her head. The dirt and soot could not hide the sharp gleam in her eyes.

The Dharma Wheel above her head gradually stopped spinning and fell still. Mashiro slowly straightened, swaying a little.

"So... that's how it works." Her voice was hoarse and broken, yet carried a faint, satisfied smile. "The heat, the impact, and that cursed will within the flames that burns everything to nothing... fascinating. But I've fully adapted."

She raised Murasame, pointing its tip at the bewildered Blazing Inferno Monk.

"Your cursed technique," she said with a wild, arrogant grin, baring bloodstained teeth, "is mine."

The next instant, Mashiro moved.

Nanami watched her speeding figure in astonishment. She was far faster than before!

Her figure all but blurred into a black streak. Rather than charging straight ahead, she followed a curved path, instantly circling around behind the Blazing Inferno Monk's flank.

There was a relatively weak point in its cursed energy flow there, one she had come to understand during the explosion.

The Blazing Inferno Monk roared, sweeping its enormous burning fist back at her. But Mashiro neither dodged nor retreated. She took the punch without a scratch, and it failed to push her back even a fraction of a step.

She swung Murasame, a faint, dark red glow coiling around its blade, and drove it hard into the Blazing Inferno Monk's weak point!

She had imbued Murasame with the properties of infernal fire she had just come to understand.

Shluk!

There was no longer the dull impact of hard objects colliding, but a sound like a kitchen knife slicing into fat.

The Blazing Inferno Monk howled in agony, uncontrolled flames gushing from its wound. For the first time, its movements became visibly stiff and erratic.

"Now!" Mashiro shouted hoarsely.

Nanami had already been poised to strike. Seizing the perfect opening Mashiro had created, he rushed forward like lightning. The cursed energy gathered on his short blade condensed to its utmost limit, forming an almost invisible thread. Following the wound Mashiro had opened, he thrust with flawless precision deep into the flames around the Blazing Inferno Monk's neck!

The Blazing Inferno Monk's massive body abruptly stiffened. Then, like a punctured balloon, the lava and flames making up its body rapidly disintegrated into ash.

The cluster of flames at its neck, the embodiment of its core, flickered violently a few times before finally going out.

Thick black smoke rose into the air. Some of the pure cursed energy within it was purified and dispersed by Nanami's blade, but most was quietly absorbed by Murasame, which was right beside it.

Mashiro felt an influx of energy far purer and greater than any she had absorbed before. It swiftly nourished her battered body, healing her injuries and replenishing what she had spent.

It abruptly pushed her total cursed energy to a new height. She had not merely reached Grade 2; she was climbing higher still.

She was now the same grade as Megumi Fushiguro, though their fighting strength might be rather different.

Silence settled over the shrine once more. Only the night wind swept across the scorched earth, gradually carrying away the battlefield's foul, burnt stench.

Nanami sheathed his blade, his movements as meticulous as ever. He did not immediately inspect the scene. First, he turned his gaze to Mashiro.

"You were incredible, Blazing Inferno Monk. I probably won't forget you for the rest of my life."

The girl stood there covered in wounds, her clothes in tatters, swaying as though she might collapse at any moment.

Yet she still held her sword and stood ramrod straight. Her crimson eyes shone startlingly bright in the darkness, and the wild smile from the battle still lingered on her face.

"You..." Nanami's voice was a little dry. He had just witnessed a battle of almost unbelievable brutality.

This girl had shown no regard whatsoever for her own body. She had adapted and learned at an incomprehensible speed, even turning a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit's attacks against it.

Her fearless disregard for death, the way she grew more frenzied the longer she fought, had burned itself deep into his mind.

"Me?" Mashiro turned to look at him, her smile gradually settling. "I'm alive, the cursed spirit is dead, and the job's done. So..." She held out her hand, palm up. "My eight hundred thousand, Mr. Nanami?"

Nanami looked at her outstretched hand, covered in burns and blood, and remained silent for two seconds.

Then he took a thick envelope from the inside pocket of his suit, stepped forward, and gently slipped it into the only intact side pocket of her tracksuit.

"There's one million in there," he said, more serious than ever, with even a trace of barely perceptible gentleness. "You've earned it. It's not just payment; it's for your medical expenses, too. You're badly hurt. You need professional treatment immediately."

"One million?" Mashiro blinked and felt her bulging pocket. Her excitement subsided, and her tone grew calm again.

"Thanks. But I'll pass on the treatment. My body's different. I heal fast."

"Your ability to recover is certainly extraordinary." Nanami did not insist, but his tone remained stern. "But that doesn't give you a reason to act recklessly. Your fighting style is far too extreme. You were lucky this time. You might not be next time."

"Only the weak rely on luck." Mashiro casually shook her still-tingling right arm, but the movement tugged at her wounds, making her suck in another sharp breath. "I think like someone strong. If I can't beat it, I adapt. Once I've adapted, I win."

Nanami looked at the girl, covered in wounds yet stubborn and arrogant. In the end, he merely shook his head, as though giving up on lecturing her, and took a business card from his pocket to hand to her.

"This is my contact information, Kujo Mashiro." He addressed her by her full name, his tone solemn. "I recognize your strength and resolve. Though I don't approve of your methods, you are a capable jujutsu sorcerer. If you run into trouble, you can contact me. I'll also recommend you for suitable jobs."

This was already exceptionally high praise and an invitation. Mashiro accepted the plain business card and carefully put it away.

"I will. Contact me whenever you have a good job." She tried moving her body a little and felt her strength returning bit by bit. "I'll get going, then. I still have a Shinkansen to catch."

"Wait." Nanami stopped her, frowning as he watched her unsteady steps. "How are you going to get to the station in that condition? I'll take you."

"No need..."

"Don't be stubborn. You're a minor," Nanami interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll at least take you somewhere you can get a taxi. That's my responsibility as an adult." As he spoke, he began taking off his suit jacket.

"Hey, you don't have to..." Mashiro tried to refuse, but Nanami had already draped the roomy jacket over her barely clothed body. He carefully drew the front closed for her, covering those horrific wounds.

"Let's go." His words were brief. He turned to lead the way, deliberately slowing his pace considerably.

Mashiro froze for a moment, looking down at the men's suit jacket draped over her, then at Nanami's straight, steady back. In the end, she said nothing more. She pulled the jacket tight around herself and followed him.