The exchange event's field was big—yet small, depending on perspective.
For a regular person, circling it would take serious time. For Hayashi? Minutes.
So now, he zeroed in on cursed energy signatures, charging straight at them.
The field teemed with fourth-grade cursed spirits. Hayashi cut them down—one after another.
No need to hold back anymore. Cameras? Didn't care.
Simple logic: among the students and teachers here, aside from Gojo Satoru with his domain, who could take Hayashi one-on-one?
Answer: nobody but Gojo. So why bother playing coy?
Every low-grade cursed spirit in the field was his for the taking. This match? A custom-made buffet!
"Gojo Satoru, you sure this kid's not cheating?" Iori Utahime said, spotting Hayashi on a corner screen.
The feed flickered—wherever a cursed spirit popped up, Hayashi was there next, ending it with one slash.
Fourth-grade or third-grade, didn't matter—one cut each, clean and crisp.
That weird technique and strength? In the exchange event, it was straight-up cheating. At this rate, he'd clear the field solo.
Gojo kicked back, legs up. "Utahime, they're all students. Strength varies—nobody banned teleporting, right?"
"You didn't clarify, that's why!" Iori Utahime snapped, annoyed. "A kid this strong shouldn't be in a match like this—he's hogging the whole show."
"So he hogs it. Blame the weak—Kyoto's fault?" Gojo teased.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu's eyes narrowed, locked on the top-right screen. There stood Hayashi—tall, black-haired, wielding a pitch-black cursed tool. Seconds later, he'd blink to a new spot, weapon dropping, another spirit dead.
No hesitation, no mess.
"That's Hayashi?" Gakuganji's aged voice rasped. "Since when did your school have him?"
He'd heard of Hayashi but hadn't cared much. Sukuna's vessel, Yuji Itadori, was his focus—Hayashi just a footnote in the files.
Those files? Thin. Either someone hid the details, or there wasn't much to tell.
Yet here he was, bursting onto the scene, stealing the spotlight.
Yaga Masamichi chuckled. "Hayashi's strength? Not sure myself. Gojo probably knows more—he's his student."
"As principal, you're slacking," Gakuganji shot Yaga a sidelong glance.
Yaga shrugged. He'd left most things to Gojo. Hayashi mattered to him, sure, but they'd barely connected.
Seeing him shine now, though? Gratifying. Talent was rare—especially in today's jujutsu world.
After Yuta Okkotsu and Kinji Hakari, another outlier. Good for them.
Bad for this match, though. By Tokyo's standards, it was cheating.
Inside the field.
Ten minutes later.
"Hold up—they're here."
Maki's crew had covered some ground. Now, they'd finally run into Kyoto School.
"To save energy, no need to walk, huh?" Noritoshi Kamo said, eyes closed, facing them.
No one knew how he saw with shut eyes—maybe not truly closed, some quirk at play.
Mechamaru, Mai, Miwa, Nishimiya—all present. Todo Aoi? Missing.
"We've been waiting ten minutes. Kinda slow," Nobara Kugisaki said, smirking.
"Rough trip?" Panda noted their dusty clothes—cursed spirit skirmishes, no doubt.
For Kyoto's crew, those spirits were child's play.
"Why aren't you exorcising spirits? Just huddling up?" Mai asked.
Their plan to take out Yuji Itadori was their secret—Tokyo shouldn't know.
Todo Aoi might've leaked it, but he wouldn't tank the plan. Even with his bond with Hayashi, he'd stay quiet.
Yuji's death didn't faze Todo. If it were Hayashi they targeted, though? He'd flip.
But Mai knew—Todo or not, Hayashi's strength spoke for itself.
"We'd ask you the same. Why're you all bunched up—want a brawl?" Maki sneered at Mai, her twin sister.
"Brawl it is—"
"Not ideal. Todo's still AWOL," Noritoshi cut Mai off. He played it cautious—down a man, and their strongest at that.
To Mai, Tokyo minus Hayashi was beatable. Noritoshi didn't get it—Hayashi's weight here.
"Todo's here," Mechamaru said, nodding at a nearby tree. Todo Aoi perched there, clutching a low-grade cursed spirit.
Catching their stares, he tossed it down like trash—barely alive—then leapt off, stomping it out.
The spirit vanished under his crushing foot.
"Bad timing?" Todo dusted his hands, casual. "Go on—I won't meddle."
"Todo, this is a match. You're Kyoto's," Noritoshi frowned. This wasn't Todo's usual vibe. Fighting wasn't his thrill, sure, but mid-match, he acted like a bystander.
Normally, Todo'd be first to charge in—not lounging like this.
"Need a reminder?" Todo's gaze sharpened, leaning back against the tree. "Respect's earned with skill, not lip. Same goes for you Tokyo folks."
The air turned strange. Todo didn't seem keen to jump in—maybe a break for Tokyo.
If Todo went all out, it'd take two or three to stop him.
"Straight-up fighting—really okay?" Nishimiya hugged her broom. She wasn't built for this—nothing like a battle nut.
She glanced at Miwa, equally tense. Not a fighter either, despite her efforts. Strength capped her hard~