“But isn’t the exchange for second and third years?” asked the information hub of Tokyo Jujutsu High, Panda. “We’re only first years.”

  “Because we’re severely understaffed,” Satoru Gojo said, looking like a sore spot had been hit. “Panda, you should know the situation with the upperclassmen.”

  Panda made a small sound of surprise. “Second year has only Kinji Hakari. Third year is a bit better, but they were injured recently. No idea if they can recover before the exchange.”

  “So that’s why we never see the upperclassmen,” Maki Zenin said with sudden understanding. “Looking at it that way, it’s a miracle Tokyo Jujutsu High hasn’t been shut down.”

  “That’s because Tokyo Jujutsu High produced a popular idol, Satoru Gojo.” He struck a heart pose like a girl idol, his face clearly saying praise me. “To save the school from closure, I debuted as an idol while still a student and became a rising star in the Jujutsu World.”

  The students had no idea where to look with a teacher this unhinged. Just then, a crow flapped past, crying “ah-ho, ah-ho” nonstop. So this was how crows in Japan sounded.

  “What about the situation at the Kyoto school?” Akira asked, since information from that side was much scarcer and had to be gathered personally.

  “They don’t have many people either, but they’re better off than us,” Satoru Gojo replied. “It’s the stronghold of the old guard, with two families from the Three Great Clans and many Jujutsu Sorcerer families. The heir of the Kamo Clan will also compete this time, a year above you.”

  As he said this, Satoru Gojo glanced pointedly at Akira. The boy once known as Noritsuna Kamo kept a blank face and added calmly, “Let’s settle the Simple Domain Expansion issue first.”

  “I know, no need to remind me,” Satoru Gojo said, waving his hand with open annoyance. “Either stubborn fossils or lazy types who hate trouble more than Nanami. Makoto doesn’t want to deal with them.”

  Akira thought it over. The stubborn one likely meant the current head of New Shadow Style, and the lazy one was probably the second year homeroom teacher, Kusakabe.

  “In short, train hard,” Satoru Gojo said. “I’ll take you all to Kyoto and decide how many will compete based on the situation.”

  It was a proper and reasonable order, and the students felt little pressure. Confidence was already there.

  “We don’t need many people,” Maki Zenin said. “Pick either Ari or Yuta. Does Kyoto have a Special Grade or even a near Special Grade? We go by elite quality. We lose on numbers, but they lose on quality.”

  She included herself without hesitation. It was not that she looked down on the sister school, but that Special Grade were simply beyond the norm. Even if she refused to admit it, she knew she could only fight those two head-on, and once they started calling a Familiar for a group attack, she had no chance.

  Akira was especially unfair. Every so often, he produced a new Pokemon, all with terrifying growth potential and no visible ceiling. Worse still, he was smart, and most first-year tactics were taught by him.

  Maki Zenin had the feeling that beating Akira even once might be harder than landing a first encounter kill on Satoru Gojo. If even she felt that way, what about the Kyoto students who did not know him at all.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I think so too,” Satoru Gojo said with a broad smile.

  Ten years had passed since he graduated from Tokyo Jujutsu High and set his goal of reform. How he lived through those ten years and how much hardship he endured was unclear even to Shoko Ieiri and Masamichi Yaga. He fought Cursed Spirit outside and conservatives inside, exhausting both body and mind.

  Because of ideology, Tokyo Jujutsu High once struggled to recruit anyone and had to rely on Gojo Clan connections to ask around and pull people in. There were times of despair and thoughts of giving up, but he endured. If he did not persist, he would betray those who supported him and the one close friend who went astray due to an overly pure heart.

  Fortunately, all of it was worth it. His investment paid off, and in the past two years both the number and quality of students had clearly improved. Talk of standing shoulder to shoulder was meant to inspire the young, but it also carried Satoru Gojo’s earnest hope.

  In his mind, a careless line once spoken by Akira echoed like a shout across mountain peaks. We should all become strong, and then do something for this world. Yes, that is the responsibility of the strong.

  “Go all out,” Satoru Gojo said. “Do not kill anyone and do not leave injuries that cannot be healed. Anything else is fine. If something goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility.”

  “Okay.”

  Maki Zenin rested a weapon on her shoulder, Panda raised a paw, and Toge Inumaki nodded. Yuta exchanged a smile with Rika Orimoto. Akira slung the black sword on his back, with Gardevoir, Pancham, and Darkrai lined up beside him.

  Their presence was as glaring as the sun overhead, impossible to ignore.

  “MT, hold it. You have to hold it!”

  “Physical DPS, attack in the order I marked.”

  “Mages, get your buffs up first. Listen to me and prepare to focus fire.”

  “Report. The MT’s HP has hit the red line.”

  “Swap Maki Zenin out. Off-tank Panda step in. Pancham, stop fooling around and help your brother hold it. If you fail, bamboo drops are halved.”

  “It’s over, it’s over.”

  “Healer, where’s the healer? Heal, now.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  Wearing a white coat with her hands in her pockets, Shoko Ieiri looked helpless. She reached out and lightly touched Maki Zenin’s wound, and a gentle glow of Cursed Energy spread under her palm. The injury began to close at a visible speed.

  While healing, she did not forget to complain to Satoru Gojo. “By the way, why am I called a healer? Can’t there be a nicer title?”

  “Because everyone calls you that, and it really does sound better than just ‘medical.’ It suits you too,” Satoru Gojo replied, deliberately glancing at her chest.

  By sheer presence alone, Shoko Ieiri ranked first at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and among all Jujutsu Sorcerer she was only slightly behind Mei Mei, who was a year older than her. She did not blush or shy away, simply lifting her high-heeled foot and stomping hard on Satoru Gojo’s foot. “I must have been out of my mind to agree to come help you here. I feel so stupid.”

  Because this was inside Rika Orimoto’s Domain Expansion, Satoru Gojo did not activate Infinity. He took the hit solidly, did not cry out, and even let out an annoying sound. “Isn’t this great? Running a dungeon should feel like this. You spend all day in the lab or the ward. Don’t you get bored? Tell me, how long has it been since you exercised properly?”

  “None of your business. If I go work out, will you do my work for me?”

  Satoru Gojo rolled his eyes. “If I cover for you, who covers for me?”

  In terms of workload and importance, these two had long occupied the top spots. Just the fact that Shoko Ieiri could use Reverse Cursed Technique and still had such heavy dark circles said enough about her schedule.

  “Isn’t there Akira?” he asked.

  “He’s still a student. At least wait until he graduates from Tokyo Jujutsu High. Youth shouldn’t be wasted.”

  “You really dote on students, just like Makoto.”

  “Aren’t you the same? Who’s the one who always does psychological counseling after missions?”

  They fell silent and looked at each other. It was because they shared the same ideals that they had ended up walking this path together.

  “Where are the mages? Stop slacking. Control, DPS, focus fire. Burn down the boss, the next wave is coming.”

  Akira shouted himself hoarse as the commander. Letting teammates slack off was absolutely unacceptable.

  “Coming, coming. Watch my triple combo.”

  Satoru Gojo raised his brows and instantly switched into veteran gamer mode. He used Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue and followed with Hollow Technique · Hollow Purple at one percent weakened output.