Labor Is Dog■ (Happy Labor Day, Everyone)

At the entrance to the Kyoto Jujutsu High forest, the team battle was about to begin.

The oppressive atmosphere seemed to silence even the cicadas. Okkotsu Yuta kept his head lowered, the loose hair over his forehead concealing his slightly melancholy eyes. The aura radiating from him was like a silent deep-sea volcano ready to erupt at any moment—a violent sense of dissonance with his surroundings born from overwhelming power.

"Absolute strength gives rise to loneliness. And the one who will teach you love is..."

Watching Okkotsu's back, Mizuki Makoto deliberately let out a profound-sounding sigh. Then, as naturally as could be, he stepped forward, patted his "inner disciple" on the shoulder, hooked an elbow around his neck, and forcibly dragged him into the shade beside them.

"Yuta, come on. Let's have a private chat."

Everyone from Kyoto Jujutsu High—including Todo Aoi, who had been ready to spring into action—froze.

What is that scumbag planning now?

No idea, but it has to be some underhanded tactic. That Tokyo brat was born evil!

In the end, all they saw was that scumbag whispering into Okkotsu's ear while pointing at the bulging backpack.

Five minutes later, the signal flare announcing the start of the team battle exploded in the sky.

The two Tokyo students entered the forest side by side, each carrying an enormous hiking backpack. Under the watchful eyes of the Kyoto students, Okkotsu Yuta solemnly took off his pack and handed it to Mizuki Makoto.

"I'm leaving it to you, Makoto." Okkotsu's gaze held the resolve of a man entrusting someone with his entire kingdom.

"Go on, Bocchi Yuta. Go enjoy your lonely rock." Mizuki Makoto pushed up his glasses and watched the boy, who could have taken on the entire arena alone, turn into an afterimage and vanish into the depths of the forest.

Thus, while Todo Aoi roared as he led the others in pursuit of Okkotsu, Mizuki Makoto carried the two huge bags and leisurely wandered to a scenic mountainside slope at the edge of the arena.

From here, he could overlook the entire river valley. A gentle breeze blew through the area—it really was an excellent place for artistic creation.

Then he unhurriedly pulled a folding table and chairs from the bags, followed by an exquisite smokeless charcoal grill, and finally... an entire box of top-grade A5 wagyu charged to Naoya's card.

Mizuki Makoto sat down, rubbed his still-aching lower back, spread out some aluminum foil with practiced ease, and lit the charcoal.

"A team battle? No, this is Yuta's 'Lonely Rock.' As for me, I'm still recovering from my back injury."

He picked up a fatty slice of beef and listened to it sing a cheerful sizzle atop the hotplate.

Meanwhile, inside the Kyoto Jujutsu High observation room.

The enormous screen had been split in two by the feed from Mei Mei's crows.

On the left screen, Okkotsu Yuta was like a god of slaughter descended upon the world, dragging behind him the twisted shadow of a Special Grade Vengeful Cursed Spirit. Todo Aoi laughed wildly as he fought Rika's arm hand-to-hand. The scene was as brutal as an apocalypse movie.

But on the right screen...

The sun was bright and the breeze was warm. Mizuki Makoto wore sunglasses as he elegantly brushed honey sauce over the wagyu with a small brush. He even pulled out a bottle of chilled oolong tea, raised it toward the crow's camera—courtesy of Mei Mei's close-up—and flashed an unbearably smug smile.

"Gojo—!!!" Utahime Iori slammed her hand on the table and shot to her feet, the finger pointing at the screen trembling as if she had Parkinson's. "Is this Tokyo Jujutsu High's strategy?! What is that brat doing?! Barbecuing on our sacred battlefield?!"

The smile on Gojo Satoru's face stiffened for an instant.

Eh? I told Yuta to have Todo properly "talk" with Makoto, didn't I? I did, right...?

"Principal Yaga... look at the students you taught!" Utahime turned toward Yaga Masamichi, only to find the usually stern principal holding his forehead with one hand, his eyes shut tight in an expression of utter despair that said, I don't want to know the bastard on that screen.

"Mizuki Makoto..." Yaga squeezed out through clenched teeth. "When you get back, one hundred laps carrying weights... no, two hundred laps."

On the screen, Mizuki Makoto seemed to sense the rage coming from the observation room.

He elegantly flipped the beef, then slowly pulled out a prepared banner from his backpack and hung it behind his folding chair.

It read:

[Top-grade wagyu, 10,000 yen per slice. Kyoto Jujutsu High losers get a 20% discount with their student IDs. Todo-senpai, feel free to come replenish your mana after the battle. —Mizuki Makoto Art Studio (also operating mobile catering)]

"Pfft—" Gojo Satoru sprayed popcorn everywhere.

"I! WILL! KILL! HIM!!!"

Utahime's furious roar echoed throughout the Kyoto school buildings, while Mizuki on the slope of the arena comfortably ate his first piece of richly marbled beef.

"Sizzle—"

The fat from the top-grade wagyu danced merrily on the hotplate, its rich fragrance spreading through Kyoto's mild breeze. Humming an off-key tune as he wrapped a slice of beef sprinkled with special sea salt in lettuce, Mizuki Makoto had not yet put it into his mouth when dense, hostile footsteps came from the surrounding bushes.

Then came the crisp sound of safeties being released.

He stiffly raised his head and saw that most of the Kyoto students, who should have been surrounding Okkotsu Yuta, had instead appeared in perfect formation around his barbecue stand.

At their head was Zenin Mai, who had just been wearing an expression that said she would never bow to evil forces. She gripped the Winchester in her hand, its barrel aimed precisely at Mizuki Makoto's forehead, while an extremely malicious smirk curled her lips.

"Mizuki Makoto, do you think you're the only smart person in the world?"

"Oh my, Mai-chan." He slowly put down the lettuce wrap in his hand, his smile stiff. "Shouldn't you be over there looking for Yuta, the guy carrying a huge katana and ready to unleash Rika at any moment? A disabled person like me, whose back injury hasn't healed yet, isn't worth such a grand show of force, is he?"

"Cut the crap." Kamo Noritoshi slowly drew his bowstring, his gaze sharp. "Rather than provoking that unfathomable Okkotsu Yuta, the best way to raise our odds of victory is to eliminate you, Tokyo Jujutsu High's pest, first."

Mizuki Makoto glanced sideways at Mai and saw her give him a playful wink.

Sorry. For that 'snitch fee,' you'll have to leave the field first.

Fine. Young people these days really have no martial virtue at all.

Mizuki Makoto let out an extremely resigned sigh. With a familiarity that made people feel sorry for him, he slowly raised both hands, pulled out the talisman representing himself from his clothes, and casually slapped it onto the table.

"I surrender. Take the talisman, and while you're at it, tell the referee that I have honorably withdrawn due to 'force majeure.'"

The Kyoto students: "...?"

They had clearly not expected him to surrender so cleanly and decisively, without even symbolically activating his cursed technique.

"Take it already. What are you standing there for?" He pointed at the talisman, then picked up the lettuce wrap he had dropped earlier and stuffed it into his mouth. "You don't seriously think I'd fight all five of you with this half-broken back for some so-called 'school honor,' do you? I'm an artist, not some muscle-brained battle maniac like Todo."

Kamo Noritoshi suspiciously collected the talisman and confirmed Mizuki Makoto's elimination. At that moment, Mei Mei's intellectual—and money-loving—voice sounded through the broadcast.

[Tokyo Jujutsu High, Mizuki Makoto, eliminated.]

Inside the observation room, Utahime Iori remained frozen in the pose of having slammed the table, as though she had turned into a stone statue.

"He surrendered? He actually just surrendered like that?!" Utahime pointed at the screen with trembling fingers. "He didn't even put down his barbecue brush!"

Makoto, betraying your teacher's "good intentions" like this means you'll be receiving a lovely extra-training package.

Yaga Masamichi closed his eyes and clasped his hands before his nose, his voice shaking badly. "Gojo... two hundred laps... no, when we get back, you're going to do hard labor at the Cursed Corpse Factory for a month!"

On the battlefield, the Kyoto students had obtained the talisman, yet they felt none of the joy they had expected.

Because right in front of them, their opponent cracked open a can of chilled cola with a pop. Amid the refreshing hiss of erupting carbon dioxide, Mizuki Makoto tipped his head back, took a huge gulp, and let out a long sigh.

"Ahh—refreshing!"

Mizuki Makoto wiped his mouth, looked at the group of six Kyoto students preparing to encircle Okkotsu Yuta, and gave them an exceedingly sympathetic smile.

"Everyone, as your 'former opponent,' let me offer one final friendly piece of advice. What you're about to take isn't a talisman. It's Pandora's box."

He pointed toward the depths of the forest, where bloodcurdling screams and the sounds of heavy impacts could faintly be heard.

"Yuta is normally as gentle as a capybara, but if he discovers that you've 'taken out' his only teammate, he'll develop the kind of loneliness that comes from feeling like the whole world has abandoned him. And once that loneliness erupts..." Mizuki Makoto shrugged and picked up another slice of meat. "Good luck. Also, when you get sent flying back later, remember to bring your student IDs. The 20% barbecue discount will still be valid."

Kamo Noritoshi snorted coldly, turned around, and led the others charging into the woods.

Mizuki Makoto sat in the folding chair with his legs crossed, watching their backs as he could not help complaining to the crow camera in the sky.

"That's life. Yuta is responsible for carrying the burden forward, while Mizuki gets to enjoy peaceful days—Gojo-sensei, don't think I don't know you wanted to see Todo beat me up."

Deep in the forest, a towering blue pillar of light—an eruption of cursed energy born from pure love—suddenly burst forth, shaking the earth and mountains.

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