Chapter 117 : Kyoto Goodwill Event

Chapter 117: Chapter 117 : Kyoto Goodwill Event

For the next few days, nothing particularly strange happened around Jujutsu High.

The only exception was Yaga chewing Satomi out for deliberately giving the Kyoto principal the wrong meeting time.

The lecture went on for nearly an hour while she sat there blowing bubbles with her gum, pretending she couldn’t hear him.

Mark stayed out of that mess.

He was sitting alone on the training field one morning, cross-legged in the grass, eyes closed, trying to meditate.

Okay. Let’s try this again.

He focused on his cursed energy and pushed deeper into it, searching for that strange feeling he’d experienced whenever the portal appeared. It was there somewhere. He knew it was.

Come on.

Nothing.

He frowned and concentrated harder. "Open."

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes and stared at the empty space in front of him. "Seriously?"

The portal had appeared when he wasn’t trying to control it. Fear, panic, desperation — those emotions seemed to trigger it naturally. The moment he actually tried to summon it himself, the technique refused to cooperate.

He rubbed his face. Maybe I need to scare myself.

He’d already considered finding a cursed spirit with some kind of nightmare or psychological attack — something that could put him into genuine panic might be enough to trigger the portal.

The problem was what happened afterward. He wouldn’t be able to choose where it opened. If he lost control and the portal appeared, he could end up anywhere. Back in his own world, or somewhere completely different. For all he knew, a world full of monsters.

Or worse.

He sighed. "Nope."

He dropped backward onto the grass and stared at the sky. Days of trying, and he was no closer than when he’d started.

"Screw this."

He closed his eyes again, no intention of meditating this time.

He was officially off babysitting duty anyway. Satomi had dumped Yuji and the other first-years onto a Grade 1 sorcerer named Nanami to investigate a string of gruesome cursed spirit murders.

From the brief glimpse Mark got, Nanami was a permanently exhausted, suit-wearing salaryman who seemed to hate Jujutsu society just as much as he did. The kids were fine.

That left Mark with exactly three days to kill before the Kyoto Goodwill Event. Three days until the campus inevitably turned into a bloodbath.

He knew an invasion was coming — Kenjaku and the disaster curses were going to hijack the exchange event.

But when he actually tried to dig the exact details out of his memory, he hit a wall. He’d watched the show years ago, back when it was just 2D animation and not his actual, waking life.

He remembered the broad strokes: the plant curse Hanami crashing the party, Todo forming a psychotic, delusional brotherhood with Yuji.

The exact timeline, the barrier layouts, who fought who and when — completely blank. He didn’t have some convenient photographic memory. Trying to force it just gave him a headache.

***

Three days later.

Nobara Kugisaki stood in the center of the school courtyard, gripping the handle of an aggressively overstuffed rolling suitcase, sunglasses perched on her head, wearing the expression of someone ready for a triumphant vacation.

She looked to her left. Megumi stood with his hands in his pockets. Maki leaned casually on her polearm. Inumaki adjusted his collar. Not one of them had so much as a backpack.

Nobara’s smile slipped. "Are you guys seriously not bringing anything? Do you just buy all your clothes when we get to Kyoto? Because I am absolutely not carrying your souvenir bags on the train."

Panda blinked. "Nobara... we aren’t going anywhere."

The courtyard went dead silent. Her grip on the suitcase handle tightened until her knuckles popped. "What do you mean we aren’t going anywhere? It’s the Kyoto Goodwill Event."

"Yeah, but the school that won last year gets to host it," Panda explained, scratching the back of his head. "Yuta completely swept the Kyoto guys. So they come to us. We’re staying right here in Tokyo."

Her Kyoto sightseeing dreams shattered on the spot.

Before she could fully lose it and start swinging her hammer at a panda, heavy footsteps crunched on gravel. Utahime Iori marched up the main pathway, looking like she’d already burned through a decade’s worth of patience. Behind her trailed the Kyoto students.

Utahime stopped in front of the Tokyo students, hands on her hips, scar crinkling as her eyes narrowed. "Alright. Let’s get this over with. Where is she? Where’s that idiot?"

Panda opened his mouth to answer, but got cut off by a loud, exhausted yawn that sounded like a dying car engine.

Everyone turned toward the stone steps of the faculty building.

Mark trudged into the morning sunlight, dragging his feet like he had concrete blocks tied to his ankles.

His hair was a bird’s nest, dark circles under his eyes like they’d been drawn on with a sharpie. He looked entirely dead on his feet.

The reason for his suffering was currently treating him like furniture.

Satomi clung happily to his back, riding piggyback, arms draped over his shoulders, legs swinging with bright, boundless energy, completely unbothered by the misery radiating off the man carrying her.

"Morning, Utahime!" she cheered from her perch, blowing a massive pink bubble with her gum.

Every single Tokyo student — Megumi to Maki — twitched in perfect unison.