The next afternoon, 2:15 p.m.
When Sōjun Minamoto arrived at the main gate of Jujutsu High, Shiko Mishima was already waiting in the car.
At a glance, the conflict and unease on her face were obvious.
She spotted Sōjun Minamoto and immediately, her expression brightened. Without hesitation, she voiced her concern.
"You didn't reply to my message last night. Were you mad?"
Sōjun Minamoto paused. You held onto that all night?
"No, I fell asleep," he said with a wave of his hand, casually brushing it off.
"But… it showed as read but no reply?"
Huh?
Sōjun Minamoto raised an eyebrow and looked at her carefully. "Don't take that kind of thing to heart. Helping you is also helping myself. We're colleagues—if I got injured, you wouldn't just stand by, right? Right?"
She nodded and mumbled, "Actually, I also wanted to thank you for what happened when I got drunk."
Sōjun Minamoto pretended not to hear.
Please, let's not bring that up again.
Shiko Mishima, now back to full energy, was just relieved he wasn't mad. It had taken her so long to find a sorcerer she could actually get along with. The last thing she wanted was to tick him off and get reported or kicked off a team.
She'd learned long ago that goodwill doesn't always earn goodwill in return, which is why she made sure to always respond to kindness with enthusiasm.
She started the car smoothly, shifted gears, and accelerated like she was entering a street race. Sōjun Minamoto, already used to this, sat calmly in his seat.
When they arrived, she lowered the Curtain, then glanced over at him.
He nodded.
As usual, she made the first move.
The Fly Head flew out, starting to clear the weaker Cursed Spirits.
Sōjun Minamoto was testing the Fly Head's capabilities. It was inherently fragile and held barely any Cursed Energy—its size alone gave that away, being only about the size of a palm.
The strength of a Cursed Spirit often correlated with its size—unless it had stepped into another tier entirely.
Fly Head belonged to that higher tier.
After assimilation, its strength had jumped significantly—from unranked to Grade 3. Under Sōjun Minamoto's full control, it could even be pushed to Grade 2.
He observed the Fly Head, occasionally stepping in to correct its movements. It was like training a dog—hit the iron bowl before meals enough times and eventually the dog forms a conditioned reflex.
What he was doing now was basically the iron bowl routine.
Unfortunately, the Fly Head's intelligence was below that of a dog. There were faint signs of improvement, but comparing it to a dog would be an insult to dogs.
He turned his focus to Shiko Mishima.
She charged straight at the Grade 1 Cursed Spirit, blade drawn.
Even within the same grade, power levels could vary greatly—and this time, the spirit wasn't as strong as their last target, nor did it have any inherent advantage against her.
After some effort, she managed to exorcise it.
She was badly injured, using her tachi as a crutch to walk, but her face was full of excitement. She didn't seem to care about her injuries at all.
Of course! As a Grade 2 Jujutsu Sorcerer, taking down a Grade 1 spirit is totally within her capability.
Now that's more like it!
She kept throwing glances at Sōjun Minamoto, clearly trying to say, "See? This is what I'm really capable of."
Sōjun Minamoto was indeed analyzing her combat patterns. Every time he saw her fight, he found her style unhinged.
Live by madness, die by madness—she didn't treat life and death seriously.
Not her own, not the target's. Whether it was a Cursed Spirit or a Curse User, it didn't matter to her.
She only cared about getting stronger.
That was something Sōjun Minamoto couldn't match. Anyone who's killed before knows—once you've done it enough, emotions fade. But whenever Sōjun Minamoto exorcised a Curse User, the thrill often made him nauseous.
If he had to rank the things he disliked, it would go: balance mechanisms > Curse Users > Cursed Spirits.
...
After wrapping up, Sōjun Minamoto helped Shiko Mishima up.
On the way back, he had no choice but to be the driver again.
He didn't like driving small sedans.
Being tall, the cramped driver's seat felt even smaller. Like a big guy squeezing into a kiddie ride—restricted and awkward. The steering wheel in his hands felt more like a toy.
He glanced at Shiko Mishima lying in the passenger seat. She giggled from time to time, then winced in pain as her wounds were pulled, her twisted smile revealing just how happy she really was inside.
Sōjun Minamoto could only shake his head internally.
As if things weren't bad enough, they got stopped at a police checkpoint. With no other option, he borrowed Shiko Mishima's face—and her driver's license.
She turned to look—and froze.
The man beside her had no resemblance to her at all… yet now wore her face.
Her own face looked completely natural on him. But after staring for a while, a wave of self-doubt crept in.
His body proportions looked even better. It wasn't that her face fit his body, but that his body could suit any face.
And… his pecs? She secretly felt she couldn't even match up!
Damn it!
Just then, a cop leaned in to look through the window. She quickly ducked her head, pretending to be asleep, letting her face fall into shadow.
Then she heard her own voice chatting and laughing with the officer. It stirred something strange in her chest.
Soon, the checkpoint was cleared.
Sōjun Minamoto quietly let out a breath and started the car again.
Thankfully, the inspection wasn't too strict. Even if they'd been found out, it wouldn't have been a big deal—but it still would've been a hassle. And he hated hassles.
The car settled into silence, but they hadn't gone far—
"Pfft~"
Laughter came from the passenger seat.
Sōjun Minamoto dropped the transformation and, expressionless, pressed down on the gas.
Back at Jujutsu High, the two parted ways and headed home.
...
Time flew by.
After a period of working together, Sōjun Minamoto and Shiko Mishima had found the mission frequency that suited them best.
Three to four times a week—enough to avoid hindering their training, while still gaining valuable combat experience.
They were growing more and more familiar with each other.