Chapter 80 — The White-Haired Schoolgirl
"Zen'in-sensei, aren't you going in yet?" Ino asked carefully.
He, for one, had no intention of entering that curtain — not when there were multiple special-grade curses crawling around in there.
That was suicide.
But for someone like Zen'in Shinsuke…
This was probably a buffet.
"Not yet," Shinsuke replied with a wave of his hand. "We wait for the signal."
Going in too early would ruin the plan.
Gojo hadn't been sealed yet, and Kenjaku — that sly old bastard — wouldn't show his face until he was.
If Shinsuke went charging in now, catching him later would be a lot harder.
"I'll take a walk around. You two stay sharp. This isn't ending cleanly."
He left with an easy smile, disappearing down the dark street.
---
The cursed spirit wrapped around his arm — Inventory Curse — began to expand, coiling around his body like a grotesque armor. Its energy pulsed faintly, ready to feed power into the arsenal stored within.
With full-grade cursed gear at his disposal, who needed "stats"?
Let the world feel what true equipment advantage looked like.
---
"Hey, Panda… what was that thing on Zen'in-sensei's arm? A curse?"
Panda squinted, watching the silhouette vanish into the shadows.
Since when did the man keep such a hideous spirit as a pet?
"That's probably a storage-type cursed spirit," Ino replied after a moment of thought.
"Something to carry weapons with. Makes sense — though I can't imagine why he'd need one."
He exhaled quietly.
"Still… if even Zen'in-sensei's gearing up with weapons, then yeah. This Shibuya thing's not going to be simple."
After all, for a man who could exorcise special grades barehanded to arm himself —
their enemies had to be monsters among monsters.
Panda nodded grimly.
"You're right. We can't just rely on Gojo-sensei this time. We've got to be ready too."
Ino sighed and leaned against the railing, rubbing his temples.
He was just an ordinary Grade 1 sorcerer with no innate technique — why did fate keep throwing him into events of this scale?
---
Meanwhile, wandering through the maze-like streets of Shibuya, Zen'in Shinsuke happened upon something rather… disgusting.
On a dim, empty street, a man in glasses was busy typing furiously into his phone, the cold glow of the screen reflecting off his worried face.
"Nanami's team has entered the curtain," Ijichi muttered to himself.
"Someone has to stay outside to maintain communication…"
His fingers moved rapidly, sending updates to all nearby support staff.
Once inside the curtain, all signal was lost — so people like him had to stay behind to maintain contact and relay what they could.
The only thing standing between chaos and order was their constant coordination.
---
"Clack."
A sudden sound broke the silence.
Ijichi froze, then slowly lifted his head—
"Zen'in-sensei?! What are you—"
"Always stay alert, Ijichi."
Shinsuke's tone was calm, almost lazy, but his gaze was sharp as he looked past Ijichi's shoulder.
Behind him, a blond man lunged out of the shadows, thrusting a long, jagged knife forward—
but the blade never reached its mark.
It had been caught between Shinsuke's fingers, frozen in midair.
Ijichi's heart stopped.
Had he moved a fraction slower, that knife would've been buried in his spine. Cold sweat drenched his back.
"You're a curse user?!" he shouted, stumbling backward.
The blond man tilted his head, clicking his tongue. "Tch. Found out already. When the hell did you—?"
His words cut off as Shinsuke yanked the knife from his hand with casual strength.
The blade was grotesque — forged from human hands.
"Next time, pay attention in your next life."
Shinsuke swung the blade once. The air screamed — and the man's head flew from his shoulders, spinning before hitting the pavement with a dull thud.
For a split second, silence.
Then—
The headless body reformed.
A purple mark beneath the eyes flickered and vanished — one of six fading out.
The "dead" man blinked, momentarily disoriented, before attacking again, slashing wildly.
Each swing was met with blinding precision as Shinsuke's movements blurred.
In the blink of an eye, the blond curse user was sliced apart — diced into chunks like vegetables on a cutting board.
The remaining purple sigils under his eyes shattered all at once.
---
The alley fell quiet again, save for the faint drip of blood.
Shinsuke wiped the blade clean on the man's shirt and tossed it aside.
"Six lives, huh? Guess you ran out."
Behind him, Ijichi was still frozen, pale as chalk, phone clutched in a trembling hand.
Shinsuke glanced back at him, faintly amused.
"See? That's why you stay alert."
Then he stepped past the corpses and disappeared back into the night —
a quiet shadow moving toward the chaos that was only just beginning to unfold.
The curse user didn't even have time to resist.
All six of his "extra lives" burned out in an instant.
"Urgh—!"
Ijichi bent over and vomited.
It wasn't that his nerves were weak. Working as a jujutsu assistant, he'd seen his fair share of horrors.
Curses ripped apart, blood on the walls, mangled remains — he could stomach all of it.
But this…
Watching a man — a human — being diced into chunks right before his eyes, calm was no longer an option.
This was brutality on another level.
---
"Come on, Ijichi. You've really gotta work on that mental fortitude of yours."
Zen'in Shinsuke looked down at the bloodied blade in his hand, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust. He flicked the weapon aside; it clattered onto the ground with a wet metallic sound.
"Just another cowardly curse user who preys on the weak. Nothing worth throwing up over."
"S-Sorry, Zen'in-sensei. My bad."
After retching, Ijichi finally felt his stomach settle. He wiped his mouth and managed a shaky smile.
"Thank you, by the way. If it weren't for you, I'd already be…"
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
He never expected the enemy to have people stationed outside the curtain — targeting support staff like him.
"Don't mention it," Shinsuke said casually, waving him off. "Just happened to pass by. You've helped me plenty over the years — call it even."
Indeed, Ijichi had provided him with no small amount of intel over time.
A good man deserved a little luck.
---
"Anyway," Shinsuke said suddenly, turning his gaze ahead.
"Are you planning to just stand there forever?"
Ijichi blinked, confused — then followed his line of sight.
Not far away stood a white-haired girl in a traditional kimono, her expression unreadable under the flickering city lights.
"You're the one who killed Hanami, aren't you?" she said quietly.
Her voice was soft, yet the air around her was heavy, sharp, cold.
No cursed energy emanated from the man before her — yet everything about him screamed danger.
Within Jujutsu High, there was only one who fit that description.
The one they called the Curse Killer.
"That's right," Shinsuke said, smiling faintly. "And you must be the white-haired little 'boy or girl' from the reports — Uraume, was it?"
"You… know who I am?"
Uraume frowned, her pale eyes narrowing. She hadn't expected that.
Aside from Geto Suguru, no one alive should have known her true identity.
"You really are a little brat," Shinsuke mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Tell me — should I kill you here?"
Her expression froze.
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.
"If I kill you… do you think Sukuna would avenge you?"
For a brief moment, the thought amused him.
Would the King of Curses even care if his loyal little attendant died?
---
"Ice Formation Technique!"
Uraume's voice rang out cold and sharp.
A freezing wind howled down the street — frost spreading in a wave that turned the pavement white.
Jagged ice spikes erupted from the ground like teeth.
"Let's find out," Shinsuke muttered, stepping forward. "I'll deliver your corpse to him and see how he reacts."
He clenched his fist, white-hot blood energy igniting around it.
With a single swing, his punch shattered the ice barrier like glass.
"Crack!"
Shards scattered in all directions — but Uraume was already gone.
"Ran off, huh?"
He tilted his head, feeling her presence darting away through the alleys.
A faint, amused smile tugged at his lips.
"You think you can run?"
---
Before he could pursue, a loud voice boomed through the streets — amplified across all of Shibuya by a cursed loudspeaker.
"NANAMI-SAAAN!!"
"GOJO-SENSEI!!"
"GOJO-SENSEI'S BEEN SEALED!!"
The words echoed through the night, bouncing between buildings and tunnels.
Ijichi's face went pale. "Wh-What? Gojo Satoru has been sealed!?"
That… was catastrophic.
---
But Shinsuke just chuckled — slow and sharp.
"Finally. Some good news."
He turned to Ijichi, smirking.
"Find somewhere safe to hide. Things are about to get interesting."
Before Ijichi could respond, Shinsuke's body blurred — vanishing like smoke.
He was already moving, a shadow streaking through the night toward Shibuya Hikarie, where the real feast awaited.
Ijichi stood frozen, phone still trembling in his hand.
"...Right," he muttered weakly. "I'll just… stay out of the way, then."