Sanctions for a Despicable Traitor

Beneath the flagpole at Kyoto Jujutsu High's gates, Utahime Iori had deliberately dressed in an exceptionally crisp shrine maiden outfit today, radiating the holy light of someone finally holding her head high.

"Gojo—! Take a good look! This is the championship banner symbolizing our victory in the previous Exchange Event!"

Utahime planted one hand on her hip and vigorously slapped Kyoto Jujutsu High's emblem on the flagpole with the other. Her voice was provocative, brimming with the wild joy she had suppressed for an entire year. "Since Kyoto Jujutsu High won last time, you, the loser, must bow your head when you enter today and shout 'Long live Kyoto Jujutsu High' three times! Those are the rules, got it?!"

"My, Utahime, your voice is still so penetrating today. Meaning, grating."

Gojo Satoru strolled lazily up to her with two bags of ice cream in hand and his other hand in his pocket.

His white hair, made even shinier after being "baptized" by Principal Yaga's spit, glinted so brightly in the sunlight that it made Utahime dizzy.

"You only picked up that win last time because Hakari got suspended for running betting pools during the match, didn't you?!" Gojo gave a wholly insincere bow, his voice loud enough for everyone present to hear. "But that's fine. To spare your fragile self-esteem, I'll only send two people out this year."

"Two people?!" Utahime froze, then looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Who are you looking down on? Todo has already pushed himself to peak condition! Are you planning to have Tokyo Jujutsu High wiped out by sending only two people?"

"Well, there may only be two of them, but one of them is Tokyo Jujutsu High's current top courtesan." Gojo turned aside with a sinister grin, intending to show off his beloved student, only to find no one behind him.

He paused, then followed Utahime's astonished gaze toward the lawn behind him.

During the few short minutes Gojo had spent bragging, Mizuki Makoto, one of the competition's main fighters who had just changed into an immaculate Jujutsu High uniform, had somehow ended up being pinned to the grass without a shred of dignity.

"Mizu—ki—!! You heartless class enemy!!"

Maki let out a furious roar and launched herself like a lioness in heat, executing a vicious flying pounce. Her legs tightly coiled around Mizuki Makoto's arm and neck as she performed an exceptionally precise and brutal move—the side armbar.

"Ow, ow, ow! Maki! It's breaking! My arm is really going to break!" With half his face buried in the dirt and his monocle nearly falling off his nose, Mizuki Makoto let out screams utterly unfitting of an elegant sorcerer.

"Good! Then you won't be able to use that black card to eat Kobe beef anymore! I heard that someone was sitting in the private room of Kyoto's most expensive kaiseki restaurant that day, eating Kobe beef while discussing the philosophy of 'peace and love' with Kusakabe's student and a young lady from the Zenin Clan?"

Panda squatted beside them with a dark expression, rhythmically slapping the ground with his enormous paw as if conducting some mysterious execution ritual. "Do you know that while we were working for six hundred yen an hour, hauling heavy things for those old men under the blazing sun like idiots, you were eating kaiseki in Kyoto's finest private room?"

"Bonito flakes! Mustard greens!!" Inumaki Toge also stood nearby, glaring furiously with both hands in his pockets. His tone was filled with the grief and indignation of someone whose heartfelt devotion had been betrayed by a scumbag. "Traitor!"

"I heard it from Shoko..." Maki tightened the armbar further, her voice practically squeezed through clenched teeth. "That day, we were exhausted like dehydrated salted fish at that shop, and only got a meal because Teacher Utahime and Shoko took pity on us. And you? You were harvesting the Zenin Clan's family fortune in Kyoto? You even gave Mai a cut?!"

"That was... for the club's sustainable development!" Mizuki Makoto struggled to speak through Maki's hold. "I was... raising... medical expenses... for Tokyo Jujutsu High... Ah!!"

"You still dare talk back!" Maki sneered and tightened her grip another three centimeters.

Utahime stared blankly at this baffling scene of students turning on each other.

Did these people look like elites here to attend a sacred Exchange Event? They looked more like debt collectors intercepting a boss who had run off with his sister-in-law.

"Gojo..." Utahime pointed at the Tokyo Jujutsu High students tangled together on the ground, her mouth twitching. "These are the elites you said could sweep through Kyoto Jujutsu High?"

"My, what a close relationship." Gojo smiled as he bit into his ice cream. He even took out his phone and snapped a close-up of Mizuki Makoto pinned to the ground. "Look, Makoto, this is such a rare photo filled with the spirit of 'youth and poverty.' I'll send it to Mei Mei."

"Gojo Satoru, you bastard... Maki... let go already... I'll give you all allowances! Double allowances!!"

Before the power of money, the unbreakable armbar finally loosened a little. Mizuki Makoto lay face-down on the ground, filthy and disheveled, staring at the three pairs of green-glinting eyes.

—In Jujutsu Society, the only thing more terrifying than Gojo Satoru was a group of companions driven insane by poverty.

"Anyway, Hakari and Kirara have already entered society early due to 'personal career planning.'" Gojo flashed Utahime an infuriating grin and clapped his hands. "So this year's Exchange Event will be handled by Makoto and Yuta. Simply put—they'll be the two surrounding your entire Kyoto Jujutsu High."

"Gojo... That arrogant attitude really proves that brat was personally taught by you." Utahime's temples throbbed furiously. "Todo! Beat those two arrogant brats into the center of the earth!"

"Oh?! You're only sending two people? Gojo Satoru, you truly are a man beyond common sense!"

Todo Aoi tore off his shirt and charged toward Okkotsu Yuta like a raging rhinoceros. Yet just as he opened his mouth to ask that fatal question about his type, a massive, deathly pale arm suddenly reached out from the void behind Okkotsu and pressed directly against Todo's forehead.

"—Don't... come near... Yuta..."

A chilling wave of cursed pressure swept across the entire grounds. Okkotsu Yuta scratched his head in confusion and looked at me. "Makoto, can I begin? Gojo-sensei said that as long as I don't kill anyone, I'm free to do whatever I want."

"Yeah, don't hold back, Yuta." I struggled to my feet and rested my head on Okkotsu's shoulder. "They're all yours. Preferably, don't make me fight. I want this to end 'peacefully' while I eat hotpot and sing songs."

"Wait! Mizuki Makoto, what's wrong with your waist?"

Utahime finally noticed his extremely unnatural stance and asked suspiciously.

"Oh, this?" Mizuki Makoto sighed and pointed at Gojo Satoru. "There was a slight mishap with the 'artistic effect' while I was doing artistic work in Kyoto—beating up Naoya. I wanted to take leave, but a certain inhuman mentor insisted that 'if you can solo Kyoto Jujutsu High in that condition, that would be the ultimate artistic expression.'"

Gojo cheered excitedly from the side. "That's right! Taking on multiple opponents while carrying an injury debuff is the classic shonen manga storyline! Go, Makoto! I've prepared a VIP viewing spot for you at the top of the flagpole!"

(Mizuki Makoto's five-word tip: If you lose, I'll settle this along with you luring Hakari and Kirara into skipping school, then hang you from the flagpole as the school banner.)

"Utahime, look." Gojo leaned close to Utahime's ear, his tone unbearably smug. "One of the people I sent is on death row, and the other just crippled an heir of the Three Great Families. If this 'death-row duo' beats Kyoto Jujutsu High, shouldn't you consider giving me that championship banner as a doormat?"

"Gojo—!!! Go die already!!!"

With Utahime's roar nearly shattering everyone's eardrums and Gojo's carefree laughter ringing out, the Exchange Event's signal flare finally exploded over Kyoto Jujutsu High.

—Tokyo Jujutsu High: two-person roster, all members entering the field.

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