Jujutsu Kaisen — Chapter 122 - The Goodwill Event, Part Two
Naobito Zenin had the cork of his gourd flask in a death grip, the veins on the back of his hand standing out like cables.
He still didn't dare pull the stopper and take a sip.
The leather sofa in the Tokyo Jujutsu High principal's office was soft. He felt like he was sitting on burning coals.
To his left, Satoru Gojo had his long legs propped arrogantly on the coffee table, tearing the wrapper off a lollipop.
To his right, Suguru Geto had his wide sleeves gathered, smiling pleasantly as he worked a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit's head between his fingers like a pair of baoding balls.
Directly ahead, on the windowsill, Toji Fushiguro sat in that eye-searing green combat suit, cleaning his ear with his pinky.
Three Special Grade combatants.
Three monsters.
Naobito felt like someone had packed his airway with cotton.
Ogi Zenin was dead. His skull pierced by a single strike from the clan's own discarded child.
By centuries of Three Great Families law, that was high treason. The entire clan was obligated to mobilize and exterminate the offender.
But did he dare give that order? He didn't dare let out so much as a fart.
And yet the eyes of the entire Jujutsu World were fixed on Kyoto. Fixed on the gates of the Zenin Clan.
If he, as clan head, couldn't even cross the threshold of Jujutsu High today, then tomorrow the Zenin Clan could consider itself struck from the Three Great Families.
"Principal Yaga." Naobito dry-coughed once, forcing out what authority he still had. "If the murder of a clan elder goes unpunished, what rules does the Jujutsu World have left? I'll say it plainly: Maki and Mai must apologize to the Zenin Clan!"
Apologize.
He laughed bitterly inside. His brother was dead, and he didn't even dare demand punishment. All he could do was retreat and beg for face.
Toji flicked the earwax out the window and dropped off the sill.
"Rules?" He bared his teeth. "Old man, stop polluting the young people's ears with that rotten, stinking garbage. That old fool couldn't face a stronger force, so he ran like a beaten dog. He died from his own cowardice!"
Toji's palm cracked down on the coffee table in front of Naobito.
"The iron fists they forged through sweat and youth smashed apart the garbage of a bygone era. That is the Will of Fire's legacy! You should be thanking them for cleaning house!"
"Apologize? Not a chance in hell!"
Naobito saw stars. This shameless, mangled logic was making his blood boil.
This bastard was dressing up murder like a public service?
He wanted to pound the table too. He glanced at Toji's thick forearms and put his hand back in his lap.
"This is nothing but sophistry—"
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The fax machine on Masamichi Yaga's desk chirped to life.
Yaga tore off the paper, scanned it. The deep lines in his brow slowly eased.
"Emergency order from Jujutsu Headquarters."
He slid the paper to the center of the coffee table.
"In light of recent conflicts among all parties, the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event has been moved up to this week. The event will serve as a public evaluation of Tokyo School's radical educational methods. Should Tokyo School be defeated, relevant personnel will be held accountable."
The entire document did not contain a single word about Ogi Zenin's death. Not one syllable of criticism toward Jujutsu High.
And that accountability clause at the end was laughably toothless.
Held accountable how, exactly? Dock a few hundred from Toji's salary?
Naobito stared at the paper.
Headquarters was picking a side, and they weren't even pretending otherwise.
Still. It gave him a way out.
Because honestly, he had no idea how he was going to get through this otherwise.
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine." Naobito snapped to his feet and snatched up his gourd flask. "We'll let the Goodwill Event decide. If that nonsense of yours loses, we settle every last score, old and new, at once!"
He didn't dare linger a second longer. He pushed the door open and walked out fast.
---
The Jujutsu High training grounds.
The air tasted like blood.
Megumi Fushiguro's Divine Dog was obliterated by a massive force, reduced to a smear of black shadow, and Megumi himself tumbled 3 or 4 full rotations across the rubber track before skidding to a stop.
He hadn't even started to get up when several cursed-energy-charged nails slammed into the track surface right beside his fingers.
"Too slow! What are your shikigami, decoration?!" Nobara Kugisaki stood over him with her hammer raised, the backs of her hands torn up and bleeding, her eyes red enough to kill.
"Worry about your own flanks — they're full of holes!" Megumi gritted his teeth, dragged himself upright, and threw up his hand seals. Shadows churned violently beneath his feet.
He had to get stronger.
Every time he closed his eyes, the image came back: Yuji's heart being torn out inside the Innate Domain, dragging a blade across his nerves.
If he'd had Special Grade ability then, that idiot wouldn't have had to die.
The helplessness was driving him out of his mind.
They were about to slam into each other again.
"Both of you. Stop. Now!"
A green blur dropped between them like a falling wall.
Toji Fushiguro's iron-tower frame blocked them both.
Megumi's eyes were bloodshot. He tried to go around anyway.
Toji delivered a precise knife-hand strike to the back of Megumi's neck. Not hard. Just enough to sever his cursed energy circulation entirely.
Megumi's legs buckled and he hit the ground.
"You can't even feel the limits of your own muscle fibers and cursed energy. And you call that resolve?"
Toji's voice was quiet and flat. "Train your body to ruin, then drag your broken limbs off to die? That's not passion. That's stupidity."
Nobara's hand was shaking around the grip of her hammer.
"Starting now — back to the dorms. Shower. Sleep."
Toji pointed at the training ground exit. "Rest properly. People who don't know how to rest don't get to talk about getting stronger. The Goodwill Event is tomorrow. Don't show up with those death-mask faces and embarrass me."
---
Jujutsu High underground chamber.
The screen threw pale blue light across the walls.
Yuji Itadori sat cross-legged on a floor mat.
On his phone, footage played of Megumi and Nobara collapsed on the training ground. Gojo-sensei had shot it himself.
Yuji watched Megumi's scabbed-over forehead. Nobara's shoulders, still trembling. He bit down hard on his lip.
His fists clenched until his knuckles cracked.
"Megumi... Nobara..."
His eyes burned.
They were pushing themselves like that because of him.
He got up. Walked to the half-meter-thick special steel target standing against the wall.
Today, he was mastering cursed energy.
No more dragging anyone down.
Satoru Gojo leaned in the doorframe and nudged his sunglasses up. "Yuji. Cursed energy is the distillation of negative emotion. But to synchronize it perfectly with a physical burst in a ten-thousandth of a second — you can't run on anger alone. You need to find that natural friction. That feeling of everything clicking into place all at once."
Yuji didn't turn around.
He breathed in, slow and deep.
He closed his eyes. Felt the power rolling through him, looking for a direction.
He took everything, the obsession, the guilt clawing at him, the burning need to be stronger, and pressed it all into every last cell of his right fist.
His body coiled and snapped. No wasted motion. One clean straight punch, driving into the steel plate.
At the precise instant his fist met cold metal.
BOOM!
The shockwave blew the clutter across the floor. A hole punched clean through the center of the steel plate.
Yuji stared at his fist.
He knew that feeling. He'd touched it once before by accident, the sensation that had produced the Black Flash days ago. Right there, just at the edge of his reach.
Almost.
Satoru Gojo's mouth curved. He nodded once. "Still as rough as a wild boar ramming a tree. But you've actually made some real progress."
---
Next morning. The sunlight was merciless.
On the tree-lined avenue outside Jujutsu High's main gate, the Kyoto and Tokyo school teams stood in formation across from each other.
The atmosphere was a wall of ice.
Aoi Todo had on a tight tank top, his pectorals threatening to burst through the fabric. He crossed the gap in a few long strides and planted himself in front of Naoya Zenin, his bull's eyes drilling into Megumi's face.
"You." Aoi Todo jabbed a finger at Naoya's nose. "What kind of woman do you like?"
Naoya stared at this clearly deranged slab of muscle. His brow knotted. "What? Are you out of your mind?"
Aoi Todo's face went flat and cold. Killing intent bled off him in waves. "Boring. A man who can't even articulate his preferences isn't worth my time."
"Hey, hey, hey. No need to get so wound up."
A breezy voice drifted in from behind the group.
Everyone turned.
Satoru Gojo, blindfold on, was leisurely pushing a half-human-height wooden crate down the slope. It was tied with an enormous, aggressively pink ribbon.
Yoshinobu Gakuganji leaned on his cane, his aged face folding into a scowl. "Satoru Gojo. What are you up to now?"
"My apologies, my apologies. We had a transfer student who ran into a small accident a while back and missed the opening." Satoru Gojo wheeled the crate to a stop between the two groups, grinning exactly like a man trying to sell you something. "The good news is, he made it today."
Toji was tiptoeing along the back of the crowd, trying very hard not to be noticed.
Megumi's brow creased.
Since when did Jujutsu High have a transfer student?
What was the old man pulling now? This wasn't like him at all.
Satoru Gojo stepped back and snapped his fingers. "Then let's give the warmest possible welcome to Tokyo School's newest student!"
BANG!
The lid exploded off the crate from the inside. Wood splinters caught the morning light and scattered.
A boy with short pink hair and a Tokyo Jujutsu High uniform burst out of the wreckage.
He was still holding a little pennant. He scratched the back of his head, looked around at the sea of stunned faces, and stretched his mouth into a big, awkward grin.
"Hey! Uh... long time no see, everyone."
Yuji Itadori gave a small wave.