Chapter 118 : Dead

Chapter 118: Chapter 118 : Dead

"What the hell is this?!" Utahime snapped, a vein visibly throbbing on her forehead. "Are you seriously making us look at this first thing in the morning, you absolute idiot?"

Satomi laughed, completely immune to the hostility. She leaned forward, chin resting on top of Mark’s messy hair, and gestured to him with a grand sweep of her arm.

"Of course I am! I’m showing off my new boyfriend." She grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up for the whole courtyard to see. "Isn’t he handsome?"

Mark didn’t blink. Didn’t try to pull away. He just stared blankly at the assembled crowd through heavy, bruised-looking eyes and let out a low, raspy groan that sounded exactly like a corpse dragging itself out of a grave.

The courtyard stared back in stunned silence.

He literally looks like he died three days ago, every student thought, in perfect unison.

"You should really look into getting a boyfriend, Utahime," Satomi chirped, flashing a painfully bright smile. "The clock is ticking. Another year or two and you’ll officially cross into hag territory."

Something in Utahime snapped. "I am going to strangle you with my bare hands!" She lunged, hands out like a vengeful spirit.

"Whoops!" Satomi giggled, backflipping off Mark’s shoulders to dodge her, landing lightly and taking off in a dead sprint as Utahime chased her in a frantic circle around the courtyard.

The sudden removal of his makeshift back brace spelled doom for Mark. Without Satomi’s weight holding him upright, gravity took over. He didn’t flinch, didn’t put his arms out. He just tipped forward like a felled tree.

SMACK.

He hit the stone courtyard face-first. Didn’t bounce, didn’t roll. Just lay there, motionless, looking exactly like a chalk outline at a crime scene.

Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara crouched in a tight circle around their fallen teacher.

Nobara poked the side of his head with the wooden handle of her hammer. He didn’t even twitch.

Megumi let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temples.

Yuji tilted his head, squatting until his face was practically level with the pavement.

"Teach... you dead?"

For ten agonizing seconds, the only sound was Utahime screaming in the background as Satomi dodged her attacks. Then a muffled, raspy voice vibrated against the concrete.

"Yes. Roll my body into a ditch and tell the IRS I owe them nothing."

A few yards away, the Kyoto branch stood frozen in collective bewilderment.

Just hours before boarding the train, Principal Gakuganji had pulled them into a heavily classified briefing, practically vibrating with paranoia as he warned them about a new, unpredictable variable protecting Sukuna’s vessel — a blonde-haired foreigner, an undocumented, monstrously powerful Special Grade who allegedly treated the sacred laws of Jujutsu society like a joke.

"Do not engage him under any circumstances," Gakuganji had hissed, gripping his cane until the wood splintered.

The infinitely dangerous Special Grade was currently face-planted in the dirt, immobilized by minor back pain, openly asking three teenagers to commit tax fraud on his behalf.

"Are you actually kidding me?" Mai muttered, disbelief dripping from her voice. "That thing is a Special Grade?" She’d figured Grade 1, at best.

Noritoshi Kamo actually opened his eyes — a vanishingly rare occurrence — squinting at the display on the pavement like he was trying to decode some hidden, masterful technique.

"Is this a trap? Some form of psychological warfare?" he whispered to Momo Nishimiya, hovering nearby on her broom.

"No, I think he’s just a loser," Momo said flatly, looking disgusted.

Only Aoi Todo remained unfazed. The heavily muscled third-year crossed his arms, nodding solemnly, tears welling in his eyes.

"Do not be fooled by the surface level, my Kyoto brethren," Todo declared. "My best friend is simply grounding his soul to the earth. A true warrior knows exactly when to rest."

"Just leave me here. I miss America," Mark groaned into the concrete. "I miss the pizza. I miss the beer. I legitimately miss my nasty, violently sociopathic friends."

Nobara drew back her foot, preparing to kick him again to see if he’d roll over, when a booming voice shattered the courtyard’s chaos.

"What the hell is going on out here?!"

Utahime froze mid-lunge, hands still shaped like claws. Satomi skidded to a stop, popping a pink bubble of gum.

Standing at the top of the stone steps was Principal Yaga, radiating the exhaustion of a man managing a school full of heavily armed lunatics. He glared down at the circus on his front lawn.

Beside him stood Principal Gakuganji.

The Kyoto principal gripped his wooden cane, knuckles white, his one visible eye locking onto Yuji Itadori with cold, barely concealed murder. Then his gaze slid down to the blonde man on the ground.

Mark didn’t lift his head. He just gave the Kyoto principal a lazy middle finger from the pavement.

Gakuganji’s eye twitched, a vein popping on his bald forehead as he fought the urge to draw his cursed guitar right there.

Yaga let out a long, suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, choosing to ignore the fact that his newest teacher was refusing to get up off the floor.

"All of you, shut up and get inside," Yaga barked, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "Get your gear. Be ready for the competition."