Mizuki Makoto had only just pushed Zenin Mai to the brink of exploding on the spot and was about to hum his way to a kaiseki dinner as a reward for his artistic soul when Kyoto Jujutsu High’s administrative building issued its final ultimatum.
Iori Utahime sat behind her broad desk, gripping the “Goodwill Event roster” that had just been airlifted from Tokyo.
Veins were visibly beginning to stand out across her usually gentle, kindly face.
“Mizuki-kun.” Utahime drew a deep breath and did her best to suppress the urge to flip the solid wooden desk directly into his face.
“During your time at Kyoto Jujutsu High, apart from occasionally drawing bizarre manga and occasionally harassing the underclassmen, your manners and conduct have…
well, barely qualified as normal.” She paused, then slammed the transfer order—bearing Gojo Satoru’s outrageously smug signature—onto the desk.
Her voice trembled faintly as she continued, “But that white-haired, sunglasses-wearing bastard Gojo just sent an emergency order.
He added your name to Tokyo Jujutsu High’s official Goodwill Event roster, right alongside Okkotsu Yuta.” “Huh?!” The smile froze on Makoto’s face.
Tokyo Jujutsu High?
The Goodwill Event?
Didn’t Yuta alone have enough power to steamroll the entire Kyoto team?
Gojo Satoru, you bastard…
just because you don’t get any time off, you can’t stand seeing your prized student enjoy his life, can you?
‘Where exactly is the “prized” part?
Is it in drawing me into doujinshi that sell like hotcakes?’ Elsewhere, Gojo Satoru ate a Kikufuku and silently raised that very objection.
“Gojo’s exact words were…” Utahime said flatly, reading the voice-to-text transcription on her phone.
“‘Since Makoto-kun has already stolen all the girls’ hearts in Kyoto, he must have learned some of Kyoto’s elegance by now.
It’s time for him to return as Tokyo Jujutsu High’s secret weapon and give those stubborn old men a little surprise~ ♡'” Once she had finished reading that skin-crawling message, Utahime clapped her hands with perfect composure.
The office doors swung open at once.
Miwa Kasumi stood outside on one side with a stiff, sympathetic smile, while Ultimate Mechamaru stood on the other without a trace of expression.
Between them, they carried every one of Makoto’s belongings, his art supplies, and even the bedsheet printed with the Gender-Swapped Jujutsu High logo.
“I’m sorry, Mizuki-kun…
these are orders from above,” Miwa apologized softly, unable to meet his eyes.
“Packing complete.
Task complete.” Mechamaru’s voice was cold and metallic as he placed the pile of luggage precisely in the center of the hallway.
Before Makoto could even try to negotiate for severance pay, Utahime delivered a crisp kick that sent him—and all his bedding—flying out through the school gates like a bag of non-recyclable trash.
“So, Mizuki-kun, you are no longer qualified to accept a single Kyoto Jujutsu High assignment.
Roll up your bedding and get back to that perverted white-haired bastard immediately!” Half an hour later, Makoto stood in Kyoto’s old streets with bags hanging from both hands, experiencing a level of poverty he had never known before.
The first-generation scumbag, Gojo Satoru, had not only transferred him back to Tokyo but also cut off every source of extra income he had, all under the noble pretense of “letting an artist’s soul ascend through hunger.” “Seriously, do you have no heart, you blindfolded asshole?” Makoto muttered, checking the pathetic sum left in his bank account as he adjusted his glasses.
First-generation scumbag, your timing is suspiciously precise.
Can the Six Eyes see people’s account balances now, too?
With Tokyo having become a pit of fire—namely, Maki’s rage—and Kyoto cutting off his food supply, what was he supposed to do now?
Throw himself at Mai-nee or Mei Mei-san and hope one of them would keep him?
Draw Gojo Mai doujinshi on the street for cash?
Or follow the Gojo family’s proud traditions and harass Nanami Kento whenever life got difficult?
“My Brother!
I knew fate would bring us together at the summit!” Footsteps powerful enough to trigger a localized earthquake thundered closer.
A muscle wall named Todo Aoi appeared directly in front of Makoto, waving the freshly printed roster in one hand, his eyes burning with the fervor of a man who could set the entire stone-paved street ablaze.
“To face one another as rivals at the Goodwill Event—is that not the finest expression of youth?!” Without waiting for an answer, Todo threw an arm around Makoto’s shoulders with enough force to nearly squeeze his soul out through the top of his skull.
“Brother!
I saw your name on that festival roster!
Promise me this: on that grand stage, you and I will have a fair, private one-on-one brawl, fist against fist!
No one is allowed to interfere.
This is a brother-only domain!” “Wait, Todo.
My finances might not survive until the Goodwill Event even starts, and Okkotsu should be much more your type—” Makoto tried to reason with him, but Todo was clearly immersed in his own triumphant background music, no doubt using his 530,000 IQ to render another set of nonexistent memories.
He clapped his hands together, and the air rippled with the force of a Binding Vow.
“If this is a battle ordained by fate, then we must stake something on it!” Todo declared, his gaze sharpening.
” “If you lose to me at the Goodwill Event, Brother, you will use your connections in Tokyo to get me premium VIP tickets to Takada-chan’s Tokyo concert next month—the kind that come with a handshake ticket!” Makoto pinched the bridge of his nose, a sly glint passing behind his lenses.
‘There’s no getting rid of Todo.
Even if I refuse, he’ll charge me directly at the Goodwill Event…
and that white-haired bastard has definitely given Yuta private instructions, too…’ “Deal.
But if you lose, Todo…” Makoto lowered his voice, and his tone took on the familiar darkness of a second-generation scumbag.
“You’ll arrange a deep interview with your teacher, Tsukumo Yuki.
I already have the outline prepared, including questions such as what brand of underwear she wears, her thoughts on sexual positions, and whether, as a special-grade sorcerer, she has ever considered doing a full nude artistic photo shoot.” “Oh!
What an evil and irresistible challenge!
I accept!” Todo burst into wild laughter, his enthusiasm nearly stripping the blossoms from the cherry trees lining the road.
Then he strode away as grandly as he had arrived, leaving Makoto alone amid the breeze with an armful of luggage.
Well, the wager had been made, and the death match was set.
The more pressing question was this: as a bankrupt artist who had been kicked out by one school and cut off by his teacher, where exactly was he supposed to mooch meals for the next month?
Makoto glanced back toward Kyoto Jujutsu High, then looked in the direction of Tokyo.
Maki-chan was undoubtedly sharpening her weapons by now.
Gojo-sensei was definitely enjoying the show.
And Mai…
He remembered that rather snug uniform.
‘Come to think of it, if I drew a collection featuring sickly pretty-boy Okkotsu Yuta and muscle demon Todo Aoi, there must be some wealthy women with unusual tastes willing to buy it, right?’ For the moment, the urge to create art—or, more accurately, spread malicious rumors—pushed his survival crisis to the back of his mind.
—– got so many chapters stacked so i upload 10 chapters a day.
And for the record, the mc straight af, his type is mei mei!
He is not gay!