Prayers for a Better World

Normally, the first thing to do upon arriving at Kyoto Jujutsu High was to pay a visit to Utahime Iori.

Mizuki Makoto stood before the antique plaque reading "Kyoto Prefectural Jujutsu High School" and unconsciously touched the two lifesavers tucked against his chest: one was a handwritten letter of recommendation from Shoko Ieiri, and the other was a bottle of expensive, Kyoto-exclusive limited-edition sake that Shoko had specifically told him to line up and buy.

[Honestly, at this moment, I sincerely wanted to kowtow to Miss Shoko.]

Mizuki Makoto knew perfectly well that if the signature on that letter had belonged to Gojo Satoru, he would have been kicked, baggage and all, into the nearby Kamo River to feed the fish before he even crossed the school gates. After all, that white-haired man's reputation with Utahime had long since fallen below negative infinity, and being "Gojo's direct disciple" was a red-name debuff in Kyoto that could explode at any moment.

Reading novels every day was great. Absolutely fantastic.

"Of course I'll give Shoko face."

In the office, Utahime Iori's expression softened slightly as she looked at the bottle of sake on her desk. She gave the frail-looking boy before her a sidelong glance. He had a face that practically screamed "Gojo faction," and she snorted. "Since you're also part of the White-Haired Victims Alliance, stay here and don't worry. As long as you don't cause trouble, no one at Kyoto Jujutsu High will drive you out."

At that moment, through Mizuki Makoto's rose-colored filter, Utahime seemed to radiate the redeeming glow of the Virgin Mary.

However, the Virgin Mary's protection could shield him from storms outside the school, but not from his "best friend" within it.

Kyoto Jujutsu High's schedule was brutal beyond belief. At six in the morning, while he was still in a dream having profound artistic exchanges with "Miss Gojo Mai" — the gender-swapped version — the dormitory door would be blown open by brute force.

"Wake up, brother! The morning air is filled with Takada-chan's fragrance! Let us comprehend the weight of the soul through sweat!"

Thus, every morning, Mizuki Makoto was dragged to the back mountain like a chick by Todo Aoi under the pitying, sympathetic, and faintly funeral-like gazes of the other Kyoto Jujutsu High students — mainly Kamo Noritoshi and Nishimiya Momo.

The good news was that he had temporarily escaped Gojo Satoru's one-sided slaughter, which involved no interaction whatsoever and casually threatened to atomize people.

The bad news was that while Todo Aoi's fists were not as "unreasonable" as Gojo Satoru's, they still absolutely qualified as "miracles of physics."

"No! Brother, your sidestep just now was too stiff! Imagine space as a thin cicada wing. You must glide along its grain!"

Bang!

Mizuki Makoto was sent flying by Todo again like a tattered sack. Though he used his technique to shed most of the force, the impact of being scraped head-on by a heavy tank still kept his "fragile artistic life" constantly on the verge of collapse.

Fortunately, Kyoto Jujutsu High was not filled entirely with humanoid walking weapons like Todo.

"Mizuki, are you okay? This is some bruise medicine I just picked up from the infirmary..."

Miwa, you're an angel!

In Mizuki Makoto's eyes, Miwa Kasumi was practically an angel descended into the mortal world.

Whenever he lay sprawled on the training ground, gasping like a dead dog, Miwa would always appear right on time with a healing smile and red bean soup at just the right temperature. Though she was a diehard Gojo Satoru fan, her character was so good that Mizuki Makoto could not bear to tell her that her idol was actually a pervert who stole his own female students' skirts to wear.

The other regular visitor was Zenin Mai.

It had to be said that compared to Maki, who constantly tried to physically choke Mizuki Makoto and dismantle his ribs, Mai was practically "gentle" like the girl next door in some respects — provided one ignored her venomous tongue.

"This much and you're already down? Has Tokyo Jujutsu High's taste fallen so far that they recruit this kind of 'wastepaper model'?" Mai would sneer as she casually tossed him a can of iced cola.

Mizuki Makoto discovered that many things that would get him sent off on the spot if he did them to Maki — such as observing her eyelashes up close, muttering in her ear, or suddenly commenting on the details of her outfit that day — would earn him at most an elegant eye-roll from Mai, or an unloaded air pistol shot.

As expected, tsunderes were an inexhaustible source of material for artists.

Life in refuge was comfortable, but having no money was absolutely not an option. The cost of art supply consumption, tablet upgrades, and buying daifuku for Miwa as a "thank-you fee"—

His wallet soon made the humiliating sound of, "Nope, I'm dead. There isn't even a single red bean left."

Once again, he had to thank Shoko Ieiri's letter. With the dual titles of "Shoko's friend" and "Kyoto Jujutsu High temporary exchange student," Utahime took especially good care of him. Not only did she waive his meal fees, she also allowed him to take on some "low-grade" missions as an exchange student to earn commissions.

Missions were usually carried out in teams. The most common lineup was Todo — violent demolition — Mai — whose job was to get teased by Mizuki Makoto until she drew her gun — and Mizuki Makoto himself.

His role was clear — uh, to persecute Mai. No, to use [Ushura Bullet] from the rear to block stray shots, while also simulating Todo's wild cursed energy flow in his mind to gather inspiration for his Special Grade Observation Diary.

Occasionally, when the ultimate corporate slave Mechamaru was undergoing "offline" maintenance, Mizuki Makoto would team up with Miwa Kasumi. At times like that, the mission felt more like an offline gathering for Gojo Satoru fans.

"Mizuki, um... I heard you're the only person besides Gojo-sensei who can use 'Limitless.' You must have seen it, right? That move where space gets sucked in with a whoosh!" Miwa clenched her little fists, her eyes gleaming with the fervor of a crazed fan.

Mizuki Makoto looked at those expectant eyes and sighed helplessly. Though his output was still nowhere near Gojo Satoru's nearly infinite scale, as a jujutsu sorcerer who had already reached Semi-Grade 1, he had more than enough power to display a little of its lethal essence.

Perfect timing: a Grade 2 cursed spirit that had "voluntarily sacrificed itself for art" came roaring toward them.

"Watch closely, Miwa. This is the 'Makoto-kun Limited Edition.'"

Mizuki Makoto raised a finger and hooked it through the air. The technique [Limitless] instantly seized the gravity within space.

Limitless: Blue.

In an instant, the space around the cursed spirit's core violently collapsed. Terrifying gravity, like an invisible black hole, twisted its enormous body into a distorted lump of flesh before completely annihilating it in midair.

"Waaah! It's 'Blue'! The scale is a little smaller, but that cold, ruthless sense of cleansing is exactly the same!" Miwa jumped excitedly in place. "Then what about the red one?"

Mizuki Makoto smiled faintly and brought his fingertips together again, reversing the flow of cursed energy.

Limitless: Red.

Blazing red light howled forth, instantly blasting away the remaining cursed spirit scraps along with several massive trees in the distance, each thick enough to take several people to encircle.

If he pushed himself until he passed out, he could take down a weaker Special Grade, but using it to instantly kill a Grade 2 cursed spirit was like firing a cannon at a mosquito. Still, seeing Miwa's pure, dazzling smile of admiration, Mizuki Makoto suddenly felt that being Gojo Satoru's "special effects porter" was not so bad.

At dusk, Mizuki Makoto sat atop the dormitory building, breathing in Kyoto's slightly cool evening breeze.

Though Todo Aoi tortured him daily until his bones creaked, and though Mai's sharp tongue still stung, this life — one where he did not have to constantly worry about Gojo Satoru teleporting in front of him, knocking him flying with one punch, and making him smash his face into the earth — truly made him reluctant to leave.

[Stay a little longer... Even one more day would be enough.]

Mizuki Makoto opened a new brush and sketched Kyoto Jujutsu High's ancient upturned eaves beneath the setting sun.

[As long as Gojo-sensei doesn't discover that I'm actually on a "paid vacation" here, my artistic germs can keep burning... probably?]

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