He'll win

Boom!

Mechamaru's wrist cannon roared, firing at Rihito in the blink of an eye.

Beside him, Miwa charged at Rihito's flank with her sword, raising it to slash straight at him.

Faced with attacks from two sides, Rihito remained utterly calm.

He concentrated cursed energy in his feet, bent slightly, then pushed off hard and darted aside.

He successfully dodged Mechamaru's cannon blast, but Miwa's blade was already descending.

Rip!

The blade sliced through fabric with a tearing sound.

At the last possible moment, Rihito leaned sharply backward. Miwa's blade cut through his shirt, missing his chest by a hair.

"That was pretty dangerous. But now it's my turn."

Taking advantage of the opening as Miwa pulled her sword back, Rihito gathered cursed energy in both fists and punched forward.

"Freeze!"

Caught off guard, Miwa raised her sword to block.

With a crack, Rihito's fist struck the blade, producing a sound like ice shattering.

"This technique..." Miwa's pupils contracted.

Extreme cold traveled along the blade. Almost the instant his fist connected, frostbite struck Miwa's hands, and her sword fell.

"Sword source release!"

Before Rihito could follow up, Mechamaru charged in.

His right arm sprang open, and a stack of overlapping blades spun wildly.

Rihito had no choice but to abandon his attack and retreat sharply, dodging the strike.

"Miwa, what happened?"

Mechamaru glanced at the sword lying on the ground and asked in confusion.

"His cursed technique... is strange." Miwa looked down at her reddened palms, her voice unsteady.

"...It's ice!"

She bent to retrieve her sword, but pulled her fingertips back the moment they touched the hilt.

The blade was far too cold, as though it had been buried in snow all night.

"A cursed technique that forcibly lowers its target's temperature. It seems our intel on this newcomer was seriously off."

Mechamaru's voice still sounded electronically synthesized, but his tone had changed noticeably since his arrival.

His metallic pupils adjusted, refocusing on Rihito.

"Still, even with that mistake, taking you down shouldn't be a problem."

Watching Mechamaru prepare to charge again, Rihito knew exactly where his confidence came from.

Living people feared extreme cold, but machines did not.

This temperature could not damage his mechanical body at all. It would have to be lower-far, far lower!

"Come on, then. Let's see how strong a second-year from Kyoto can be!"

Rihito's fighting spirit began to rise.

His previous battles had either been life-or-death struggles or training sessions at school.

Never before had he faced someone who could withstand his technique's effects and let him go all out like this.

Mechamaru was perfect!

The whirring of the spinning blades still echoed through the woods when footsteps suddenly sounded from another direction.

"Mechamaru? Miwa?"

Kamo emerged from the shadow of a tree trunk, pausing for a beat when he saw the situation.

Miwa's hands were red, her sword lay at her feet, and the blades in Mechamaru's right arm had yet to fully retract into their slots.

Their opponent was the newcomer whose name sat at the very bottom of the roster, printed in paler ink than all the others.

Kamo's gaze lingered on Rihito for a second, swept over Miwa's swollen fingertips, then withdrew.

"One newcomer has kept both of you occupied this long?"

Miwa opened her mouth to explain, but ultimately only bit her lip.

Mechamaru's synthesized voice remained flat, but his phrasing was much terser than usual. "His technique controls temperature. That wasn't in the intel."

"Temperature control?"

Kamo repeated the words, then raised his right hand.

In the dappled sunlight, the blood at his fingertips split into seven or eight marble-sized spheres, hovering in the air with a faint tremble.

"Nishimiya."

There was a beat of silence above the canopy before the sound of a hovering broom descended.

"We'll deal with this newcomer first. Then everyone regroups, and we kill Itadori."

"With enough of us, even Todo shouldn't be able to stop us."

Mechamaru fell silent for a beat, Rihito's standing figure reflected in his metallic pupils.

"...Agreed!"

Miwa bent down, picked up her sword, and took position ahead and to Rihito's left.

Nishimiya lowered the tip of her broom an inch, cutting off the entire space overhead.

Kamo and Mechamaru stood in front and behind him respectively.

Rihito stayed where he was, sweeping his gaze over each of them.

The four were positioned in a staggered formation, blocking almost every possible angle of escape.

Cursed energy pressed in from all four directions, as though the air itself had tightened around him.

Suddenly-

"Hey! Don't you think ganging up on him is going too far?"

Itadori's voice carried from far to the east.

He burst out of the bushes, crushing dry branches underfoot as he hurtled toward Rihito like a cannonball.

But a thick arm barred his path a moment later.

"Todo, what are you doing?"

Itadori braked hard, nearly tripping over his own momentum.

Todo did not turn around.

The lock of hair over his forehead lifted in the wind. By the time it fell back, not a trace of tears remained in his eyes.

Those usually fierce eyes were unnaturally calm.

"Itadori, have faith in your best friend."

"Those aren't the eyes of a weakling!"

Itadori froze, then followed his gaze.

Surrounded by the four of them, Rihito was covered in dirt, his clothes torn in several places. He looked utterly bedraggled.

Yet there was not the slightest hint of fear in his eyes.

Instead, as he looked at the four surrounding him, a fierce fighting spirit blazed in his gaze.

At the sight, Itadori's tense body slowly relaxed.

"He'll win!"

The forest wind swept broken leaves between them, carrying away the last trace of hesitation.

Just then, a string of footsteps sounded from the woods on the other side. Dry branches snapped in rapid succession, as though someone was sprinting through the forest at full speed.

Itadori whipped his head around.

Through the overlapping tree trunks, he saw a dark figure flash through a gap.

It was Fushiguro.

Fushiguro's breathing was slightly ragged. Every

step dug deep into the ground, his soles kicking up leaves and dirt that splattered his calves.

He crossed a dry creek bed, leaning slightly forward, his fingers already silently forming a hand sign as he ran.

"Rihito, please be all right!"

Fushiguro's brows knitted tightly as he stared ahead.

The instant he passed that row of cedars, he finally saw the situation in the clearing.

Four students from Kyoto Jujutsu High surrounded a lone figure.

Their staggered positions blocked almost every route of escape.

And that figure was Rihito!

"Damn it!"

Fushiguro's face darkened instantly, and his hands completed the final part of the sign before him.

He could feel his cursed energy taking shape between his palms. All he needed was to get within range and release it, and he could summon the Divine Dogs to rescue Rihito.

"Rihito, hold on!"

Fushiguro's expression grew resolute, and the incantation to summon his shikigami spilled from his lips.

"Divine..."

Just then, a hand suddenly reached in from the side and settled firmly on his shoulder.

The hand did not press hard, but it held the exact joint he needed to exert force.

Fushiguro's body stalled, and his cursed technique was forcibly interrupted an instant before his cursed energy erupted.