In a way, Masamichi Yaga was like a mutated version of Akira. The longer he developed, the deeper his foundation became, and he also held a trump card that Jujutsu Society had coveted for years.
"If he were willing to reveal it, he would become the fifth, or more accurately the fourth Special Grade, even before Yuta Okkotsu." Akira shook her head.
"That is not how it is. To the principal, Cursed Corpse are more like children. Who would be willing to send their children onto a battlefield? Do not talk about this anymore. You would not want others to say you treat Little Sha as a tool."
"That is my fault," Akira admitted immediately. If his mother thought that way, Panda would be the first to come after him. He hesitated, then asked, "So, Mom, about your second spring…"
"Do not talk about that either," Akira said. "You think it is suitable, but others may not. I have never thought about these things. Seeing you and Noritoshi Kamo grow up well is enough for me."
This was Akira's most honest feeling. The moment she left Kamo Clan, half her heart had already died, and the rest was placed entirely on her two children.
"Then you should go even more," Akira said. "Do you not want to see with your own eyes how Noritoshi Kamo is doing?"
"Of course I do," she replied. "I am just afraid that if I go, I will bring him trouble. The sharper our conflict with Kamo Clan becomes, the worse his situation will be. He is still the heir of Kamo Clan."
She finally spoke her true thoughts. Akira and Satoru Gojo could protect her, but they could not protect Noritoshi Kamo, or rather Noritoshi Kamo as the future clan head.
From beginning to end, Akira always put her children's future first. As for herself, it did not matter. She had not told Akira because she was afraid that, as a discarded child of Kamo Clan, he might resent the heir.
Understanding his mother's heart, Akira sighed. "You are too kind. That is why my cheap birth mother bullied you."
"Is kindness a bad thing?" Akira asked.
"It is not bad, just…" Some words were hard for him to say. "Since you put it that way, I cannot tie you up and drag you there. Do you have anything you want me to tell Noritoshi Kamo?"
She hesitated for a while, then shook her head. "There is no need to say anything. As long as he is doing well. Just find a chance to take some photos for me."
"That is easy," Akira said. "But I do have something. If Noritoshi Kamo dares forget his original intentions and turns into someone as annoying as my cheap dad, do not blame me for beating him until even you cannot recognize him."
He was a good person, but that did not mean he had no temper like his mother. She could only say, "Be gentle. Both sides are still my children."
Then she looked at him and asked, "You say all this. Are you fully prepared?"
"Almost," Akira replied. "The second-year has not shown up yet. If this keeps up, I will have no choice but to throw him out for solo work."
They had lived and trained together as first-years for so long just to practice team battles. How could they rely on a newcomer they had never even met once?
Yet the very next day after Akira complained, that man appeared. He stood there and said with a smile, "I am a second-year student, Kinji Hakari. I am your senior brother. If you have anything you do not understand, you can ask me, and I will kindly explain it to you."
He finally arrived. A senior who alone counted as an entire grade sounded impressive, but the first impression was a letdown. Tokyo Jujutsu High was famous for good looks, yet the average score clearly dropped the moment he showed up.
Akira felt the school's reputation needed an update. Around here it was polarized, either handsome and pretty or built like a gorilla. This senior, Kinji Hakari, followed the same tall and broad path as Principal Masamichi Yaga.
If you ignored their faces and looked only at build and presence, people could believe they were father and son. One looked like a gang boss, the other like a delinquent. Even after seeing his face, the delinquent vibe did not fade.
His hair was a mess, his uniform wrinkled, and his eyes rarely met anyone head-on. His features were not as wide or intimidating as Yaga's, but they carried constant irritation, like everyone owed him money. Hearing such a person talk about being friendly sounded suspicious, like friendly fists instead of words.
Maki Zenin's eyebrows shot up at once. Not swinging her staff already counted as restraint learned from following Akira. She stepped forward and snorted, "Maki Zenin, specialty is beating people up. I don't want others using my family name to—"
Before she could finish, Kinji Hakari's face fell. "Boring. With that, you think you can take down Kyoto Tokyo Jujutsu High?"
"Is this guy asking for it?" Maki Zenin's expression turned sour.
A white broom-headed figure appeared between them like a ghost. "Oh? Kinji, you're back." Then he added, "You're late again, delinquent teacher."
Kinji Hakari snapped back, "You're one to talk." Oddly enough, it fit. Very few people could speak normally to Satoru Gojo.
"You were later than me," Satoru Gojo shot back. "I messaged you and Atsuya three weeks ago. Why the delay? Where's Atsuya?"
"Teacher Kusakabe is on vacation," came the answer. Even with only one second-year, the staff was fully assigned. "You know him. If he can lie down, he won't sit. If he can sit, he won't stand."
So that was the teacher lineup at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Satoru Gojo was a problem teacher, Atsuya Kusakabe was a master of slacking, and Shoko Ieiri lived in a constant haze of intoxication. Even the anger from Kinji Hakari's provocation faded a little.
"I needed him for something important," Satoru Gojo said with a shrug. "Forget it. When he's on leave, he never answers calls or mail. It can wait until after the event. What about you? You look terrible."
"You can tell at a glance. Bad condition," Kinji Hakari replied impatiently.
"Lost a bet?"
"You know the answer."
"Scum."
Maki Zenin's blood pressure shot back up. Even though Japan had grown more open after becoming a developed country, there were still strict lines that could not be crossed. Before twenty, touching those lines meant being labeled delinquent, punished, suspended, or worse.
Despite her sharp mouth, Maki Zenin lived cleanly. Akira once said she would be popular if she fixed how she talked, but Maki Zenin refused. She said it was too much trouble, and training was hard enough that she needed an outlet.
"Hey, delinquent teacher, just don't bring this waste along," she said. "Without him, we can still win."
"What?" Kinji Hakari's temper flared at once. Losing a bet had already put him in a foul mood. "You want to fight, woman?"
"If I say yes?"
Maki Zenin never backed down from a fight. Winning was one thing, but she would not lose in presence. Kinji Hakari was the same.
"I'll say this first," he warned. "At the gambling table, I don't hold back. Being a woman won't save you."
"Perfect."
She charged, swinging her long staff without a blade. One strike put Kinji Hakari flat on the ground. Just one strike.