WHEEEEEEEEEE—!
Before long, the air was pierced by a cacophony of sirens as dozens of police cars and Assistant Directors in black suits swarmed the freight parking lot.
The ten thousand yakuza members who had packed the lot were being dispersed. Terrified by the police presence and the overwhelming, god-like violence displayed by Gojo and Geto, most had either fled into the night or were being quietly hauled away in handcuffs.
Among the Assistant Directors cleaning up the chaotic scene, a man with a familiar, bulky frame walked toward us. It was our homeroom teacher, Masamichi Yaga.
"Are any of you injured? Dealing with such a massive group of non-sorcerers must have been troublesome, but you completed the mission excellently."
Yaga nodded, his expression one of paternal satisfaction.
"Now, for the detailed report..."
"Ahem! Hrmmm!!"
Before Yaga could finish, I let out a loud, theatrically forced cough, signaling him with my eyes.
We were in an open area swarming with police and Assistant Directors. Understanding that I had sensitive information that shouldn't be blurted out where there were so many ears listening, Yaga's brow furrowed for a split second before he smoothly pivoted the conversation.
"Speaking of which, none of you have had dinner yet, I assume? Let's go get some food. The Kyoto High student should join us as well."
The place Yaga took us to was a high-end, private-room Chinese restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of Kyoto.
The six of us sat around a table in a room shielded from outside noise and prying eyes.
"There are no rats or eavesdroppers here. Before we order, feel free to report," Yaga said, crossing his arms and nodding.
Shoko was the first to speak. She gave a highly logical briefing on the bizarre prosperity of the net cafes and the shift in the yakuza's revenue stream that she had observed while scouting the city during the day.
As she delivered her concise report, a proud smile spread across Yaga-sensei's face. He looked like a truly moved mentor, thinking: I can't believe my problem children actually gathered information and grew this much!
"Splendid. So, in order to strike the mastermind behind those net cafes, you split into teams for the parking lot and the net cafe?"
"...Uh, about that."
I slowly raised my hand and interjected.
I then proceeded to recount my agonizing odyssey. It started with the massive blunder of leaving my precious Cursed Tool back in the Kyoto High records room, followed by me walking into a net cafe alone, getting into a 1v1 StarCraft match with the target, rolling around dodging homing missiles, smashing a fuse box, and ending in a frantic brawl.
"..."
As I continued the 'heroic' tale of how I totaled the net cafe during my duel with Gokudo Flower, Yaga-sensei's face—which had been smiling warmly just moments ago—began to rot in real-time, looking as if he'd just chewed on a literal pile of trash.
'Hachiro worked so hard! Why are the standards so strict only for me?!'
Internally, I was weeping blood. Watching my disastrous report—which boiled down to 'I forgot my weapon so I played video games with the yakuza boss in a PC bang and then demolished the building'—I could see a thick vein throbbing on Yaga's forehead.
"Haaaaah..."
Yaga let out a long, deep sigh, seemingly unable to even bring himself to smack me. To desperately flip the mood, I pointed at the white-haired girl sitting quietly next to me, nervously reading the room: Kanao.
"Yaga-sensei! Put my screw-up aside, the main point is this girl!"
I gave a passionate pitch regarding the insane future potential of Kanao's technique, 'Cursed Energy Exchange through Networks,' and how she had been despised and discriminated against by the traditionalist old geezers at Kyoto High under the guise of 'orthodoxy.'
"This girl is a talent far too precious to let rot among those higher-up bastards. We absolutely have to transfer her to our Tokyo High!"
When my fiery speech ended, a heavy silence descended upon the room. Yaga-sensei massaged his temples, let out a groan, and formed deep wrinkles between his eyes.
"Mmmmmm..."
Yaga's heavy humming resonated through the private room.
"I understand your intention for bringing her to me. Regarding the disciplinary action or punishment for the yakuza incident... since she is still a minor and a student, I can somehow smooth it over by falsifying the documents to say she was a special operation collaborator for Tokyo High."
Yaga looked at Kanao with a troubled gaze and continued.
"However... taking a student's registration from Kyoto to Tokyo without permission is an entirely different matter. It won't be easy. No, it'll be more like a declaration of war."
"Why? The Kyoto geezers hate her anyway, don't they?" Gojo chimed in, clicking his tongue dismissively.
"Hating someone and letting them be taken away are two different things. It's a matter of the Jujutsu world's pathetic pride," Yaga replied bitterly, fiddling with his teacup.
"Particularly the principal of Kyoto High, Yoshinobu Gakuganji. That old man is a stubborn traditionalist who embodies the very essence of the higher-ups' customs and rules. Even if she's a delinquent student they find annoying, there's no way that old man will just sit back and watch her be taken by Tokyo High without a 'valid reason.' There will be massive backlash."
Tokyo and Kyoto. Innovation and Tradition.
The thick wall of the higher-ups was blocking the path for Kanao to join our group.
Knock, knock—
"May I take your order?"
The door opened and a server carefully entered. As if clearing the heavy air, Yaga-sensei let out a short sigh.
"Let's eat first."
We ordered a mountain of greasy Chinese food—sweet and sour pork, assorted seafood with vegetables, fried rice—and covered the table. But even as the chopsticks flew, the heated discussion didn't stop.
"Couldn't we just contact Principal Gakuganji directly and try to convince him? If we appeal to her talent objectively..." Geto argued while shoveling fried rice into his mouth, but Yaga-sensei shook his head.
"Knowing that stubborn old fossil, I'd say that's nearly impossible. The stickiness of those traditionalist conservatives exceeds your imagination. They'd block the transfer out of spite even if they have to frame it as a criminal offense."
Just as the frustrating debate reached a stalemate with no breakthrough in sight, Satoru Gojo, who had been chewing on a fried dumpling, suddenly got a sparkle in his eye.
"Then why don't we just use the Old Discipline to shut those old farts up?"
"Old Discipline? What's that?" Geto asked.
Gojo took a sip of water and started laying out the lore with a serious face.
"There are these ancient phrases and laws that have been passed down from the dawn of Jujutsu to the golden age of the Heian era—supposedly the words of the 'sages.' They range from common moral advice like 'do not kill wantonly' or 'cherish your kin,' to specific combat rules for sorcerers that people back then guarded with their lives."
Gojo tapped his chopsticks on the table.
"Anyway, these archaic laws have been partially erased or preserved over the ages to reach our current time. To put it bluntly, there are plenty of ridiculous rules that directly conflict with the modern Japanese Constitution. But those higher-up fossils value this Old Discipline more than any modern law; to them, it's sacred."
"So? What does that have to do with Kanao?" Shoko asked.
At her question, Gojo grinned and pointed at me.
"Remember that joke I whispered to Hachiro at the parking lot? The Three Great Families' rule where the loser surrenders everything to the winner."
"Ah."
"Originally, it was a deterrent created so sorcerers wouldn't fight recklessly, since one duel could cost you everything from your life to your property. But in later generations, the higher-ups started using it as a legal justification to strip a loser down to their underwear and leave them with absolutely nothing."
The moment I heard Gojo's history briefing, the tangled threads in my head snapped into place, and a lightbulb went off.
"Aha! That's brilliant!"
I was so excited that I jumped out of my seat before I could even finish chewing my seafood.
"So! If we use that Old Discipline, I can claim that since I won the duel perfectly, I'm taking Kanao as my spoil of war and I can do whatever I want with her... wait?"
As I enthusiastically developed the logic, I realized my word choice had gone horribly wrong.
"...Uh, wait a minute. Now that I said it out loud, that sounds incredibly scummy and weird. That's not what I meant... I mean!"
I scrambled to add an explanation, but the milk was already spilled.
"..."
"..."
Instantly, the temperature in the private room dropped so low it felt like the spicy seafood soup had frozen over.
Everyone in the room except for me—Yaga-sensei, Geto, Shoko, and even the subject herself, Kanao—had put their chopsticks down and was looking at me with eyes colder than a winter morgue, filled with absolute disgust and contempt.
'Zenin Hachiro, you absolute piece of crazy trash.'
Shoko's eyes were saying exactly that.
"No, I really didn't mean it in that way!! I was talking about the justification for taking her affiliation!!"
In that suffocating silence where I was desperately appealing my innocence while sweating bullets, the one who created this misunderstanding, Satoru Gojo, let out a cough and tried to smooth things over with a sly grin.
"Ahem, ahem! Well, let's ignore Hachiro's perverted wording for now. It might be a bit forced and outdated to throw at the old fossils, but as a justification, it definitely gives us an opening to dig our heels in."