A week passed quickly, and the day of the Goodwill Event finally arrived.
Inside the classroom, the four of them were gathered—Gojo lounging across two chairs, Geto reviewing the event schedule with mild interest, Shoko sipping canned coffee, and Naoya quietly flipping through his phone.
Gojo's eyes darted over just in time to catch a glimpse. "Naoya, did you change your phone wallpaper?"
Naoya didn't look up. "Why do you care?"
"Because I saw it," Gojo grinned, inching closer. "Wait… is that—Is that you shirtless?!"
Shoko nearly choked on her coffee. "No way."
Naoya calmly closed the flip phone with a snap. "Cut the bullshit, Gojo. Are you blind?"
"It's you and Geto kissing," Naoya continued, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Huh?" Shoko said, her eyes wide in shock.
Geto froze, his expression flat. "Naoya, I swear to god…"
But before anyone could respond, Principal Yaga entered the room, attracting all the attention.
"Did I interrupt something?" Yaga asked, his voice deadpan as he looked at the group.
Shoko cleared her throat, quickly composing herself. "No, nothing at all. Just… some typical nonsense." She shot a quick glare at Naoya, who was still nonchalantly leaning against his desk.
"Then let me inform you"
"The event that will happen in 2 hours from now, when the Kyoto students will show up," Principal Yaga said, his voice gruff as usual. "It will be a team battle today, and tomorrow will be individual fights," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the room.
However, to his frustration, he noticed that except for Shoko, the rest of them weren't paying much attention at all. They were too busy chatting amongst themselves—Gojo and Naoya seemed to be engaged in some playful banter, while Geto sat back, indifferent as usual. Even Shoko, who had been trying to maintain some semblance of seriousness, sighed, rubbing her forehead.
Naoya glanced up, not at all fazed by the interruption. "Yeah, yeah, we heard you. Team battle, tomorrow's individual fights. Got it." He waved a hand dismissively.
Gojo smirked, his usual grin plastered across his face. "Relax, Yaga. We can just send Geto's new captured cat-like cursed spirit, and it'll mop the floor with them."
Yaga, already tired of their lackadaisical attitude, took a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead. He had no illusions about how the event would unfold. The Kyoto team didn't stand a chance. In fact, unless some kind of divine intervention occurred, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion. He could almost hear the inevitable whining from the Kyoto students already.
"Just don't come late," Yaga muttered as he turned toward the door, clearly over the whole situation.
…
Gojo swung his arms behind his head as they walked, the picture of casual mischief. "Hypothetical for you, Naoya—24 hours where all crimes are legal. What're you doing?"
Geto chuckled, amused by the question. "Finally, a question tailored for our resident delinquent" he teased, smirking at him.
Shoko, walking beside them, didn't say anything, but the curiosity was written all over her face as she glanced at Naoya, waiting for his response.
Naoya, for once, paused and thought for a second. His usual smirk didn't fade, but there was a brief flicker of consideration in his eyes before he finally spoke.
"None," he said simply, his tone deadpan. "Because they're now legal."
The others blinked at him, a mix of confusion and amusement crossing their faces. Gojo looked like he was about to burst out laughing, but Naoya's response, though simple, was unexpected.
"A person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts," Geto mused, shaking his head with a half-grin.
Gojo scoffed playfully. "It's no fun when it's legal. Hits hard right now."
But Shoko raised a finger and glanced at Gojo. "He didn't say that because it isn't fun after it's legal. If he does a crime, it isn't a crime—because a crime is something illegal. And if everything is legal, then nothing is a crime."
"You should've asked, 'What immoral acts will you be committing?'" Geto said, turning to Gojo.
Gojo opened his mouth, clearly ready to fire back with something ridiculous——but before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.
"ALL of you are late!" came the sharp, unmistakable bellow of Yaga from a distance.
...
Meanwhile, across the training field where the Kyoto students had gathered, the atmosphere couldn't be more different. Where Tokyo's air buzzed with laughter, Kyoto's felt heavy, burdened with pressure and doubt.
The six students stood in a loose circle, their principal, Gakuganji, looming nearby with his usual stern presence.
"Why are we the ones getting fed to the wolves?" Ren muttered, voice thick with frustration. The seventeen-year-old paced in tight circles, one hand resting near the bow strapped to his back. "This doesn't seem to me a friendly exchange."
Haruki, tall with a perpetually tired expression, sighed. "We're up against both future heads of the Zenin and Gojo clans. Plus, that other guy… the one with the monstrous cursed technique." His voice dropped to a whisper at the end. "What are we even supposed to do?"
Airi, quiet and soft-spoken girl but clearly nervous, looked toward their principal with a spark of desperation. "Is it even worth trying, Principal Gakuganji? Can we just… bow out? Forfeit with dignity?"
Before Gakuganji could open his mouth, Naraku stepped forward, his young voice cutting like a blade.
"Seriously? You're all pathetic." At just fifteen, he stood shorter than the others, but his presence was sharp and fiery. "So what if they were born into prestigious families? That doesn't make them gods. You sound like you're already begging for mercy."
His eyes burned with disdain as he scanned each of them in turn. "They're not unbeatable. They're just lucky. And frankly, watching you all tremble like this makes me sick."
A tense silence fell over the group like a sudden fog. Even Principal Gakuganji paused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he regarded Naraku with an unreadable expression.
Finally, the old man spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. "This event isn't about fear—it's about forging strength. If you step onto the battlefield already defeated in your mind, then you were never worthy of calling yourselves jujutsu sorcerers."
Airi looked down at her shoes, the weight of his words sinking in. Ren's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. Haruki remained quiet, his eyes distant, haunted by something unspoken.
Hina, a stoic fifteen-year-old with soft pink hair tied back and icy blue eyes, stood motionless. Her katana rested at her hip, untouched. She hadn't said a word since the gathering began—because nothing anyone said mattered to her. Fear, encouragement, threats—they held no meaning.
Kanzaki, tall and broad-shouldered, carried twin swords across his back. He let out a long, exaggerated yawn, stretching lazily like a cat. Whether he was bored or simply too confident to care, no one could tell.
The silence stretched again, thick with tension and unspoken thoughts, until finally—footsteps echoed in the distance.
The Tokyo students were getting closer.
…
As they arrived at the meeting point with Principal Yaga, the four Tokyo students approached the Kyoto group with relaxed, almost lazy confidence. Their presence alone shifted the atmosphere.
Naoya was the first to speak, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, well," he drawled, eyes sweeping over the Kyoto team. "What do we have here? What do you think, Gojo?"
Gojo pushed his sunglasses up slightly, revealing one sharp blue eye as he surveyed the group. "Hmm… looks like we walked into a kindergarten graduation. Should we have brought snacks and juice boxes?"
Geto chuckled under his breath, arms folded across his chest. "They don't look that bad. Scared, maybe—but not hopeless."
Shoko sipped casually from her coffee cup, barely acknowledging the Kyoto students with more than a glance. "Honestly, I was expecting more dramatic tension. But this just feels… sad."
The Kyoto students stiffened. Naraku's eyes narrowed, lips curling slightly into a sneer. Hina's hand instinctively rested near her katana, and Kanzaki's yawn faded, replaced by quiet, watchful silence.
Naraku's temples pulsed, the veins on his forehead visible with suppressed fury. He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes burning with defiance.
"You think this is a joke?" he hissed, his voice low and jagged like broken glass. "Keep laughing while you can. Let's see if that grin stays when you're coughing up blood."
Naoya raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. He stepped forward, matching Naraku's intensity with casual disdain.
"Oooh?" he drawled, a mocking lilt in his voice. "I heard your strongest between you is only semi–first grade. And with that level of skill, you dare speak to me like that?"
He tilted his head, his smirk widening cruelly.
"I've seen grade 2 cursed spirits with more presence than you losers. If I blinked, I might forget you ever existed."