Geto Suguru's thoughtful admission hung in the air for a second, momentarily derailing Gojo's teasing. "Wait, really?" Gojo blinked, then shrugged, conceding the point. "Alright, fine. I guess we're all a little weird."
Kamo Itsuki offered no further explanation, his attention already shifting to the entrance of Kyoto High. The massive wooden doors began to swing open with a low groan. "It seems our hosts are ready," he observed quietly.
As the doors fully opened, a group of students emerged, led by a tall, stern-looking teacher with a distinctive scar across his face—Yoshinobu Gakuganji, the principal of Kyoto Jujutsu High. His gaze swept over the Tokyo group, sharp and assessing, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Kamo Itsuki before moving on.
"Welcome, Tokyo," Gakuganji's voice was as weathered and unyielding as the school's ancient timbers. "We trust your journey was uneventful. The exchange event will commence shortly. Follow me."
The Kyoto students filed out behind him. Their demeanors varied—some looked on with cool curiosity, others with open competitiveness. Among them, a girl with short, dark hair and intensely focused eyes—Mei Mei—watched them with a calculative gleam. A lanky boy with a carefree grin, Utahime Iori, seemed more relaxed, while a serious-faced young man, Atsuya Kusakabe, stood with his hand resting near the hilt of a wrapped weapon.
As the two groups fell into step, a palpable tension settled between them. It wasn't hostile, but it was thick with unspoken challenge.
Gojo, utterly unaffected by the solemn atmosphere, leaned toward Geto and stage-whispered, "Check out the old principal's face. Looks like he's been chewing on a lemon for a decade."
"Satoru," Yaga Masamichi's warning growl came from ahead, but it was half-hearted. He was used to it.
Ieiri Shoko walked slightly apart, the newly-christened 'Yuki Mai' padding silently at her heels, its synthetic eyes scanning the surroundings with an eerie, lifelike alertness. She noticed Mei Mei's eyes tracking the puppet, a slight frown of analysis on the Kyoto student's face.
Kamo Itsuki walked calmly in the center of his group, his expression neutral. He felt the weight of numerous glances—from Gakuganji's suspicion to the Kyoto students' appraisal. They see the Kamo heir first, he thought. The puppet master. The unknown variable. He had no doubt that his modified version of Puppet Cursed Technique Studies, and his casual bestowal of such a tool to Shoko, had already been noted and would be factored into Kyoto's strategies.
Gakuganji led them into a vast, sand-covered training courtyard, ringed by weathered wooden stands. "The first event will be a team sparring match," he announced, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "Tokyo versus Kyoto. The rules are simple: immobilize or force your opponent to concede. No lethal force. We begin in one hour."
As the Kyoto group dispersed to prepare, Yaga gathered his students. "Alright," he said, his voice low. "They've been watching you since you arrived. They'll have plans. Stick to your strengths, but be prepared for them to try and counter them." His eyes briefly met Kamo's. "Especially you. Your… hobbies have drawn attention."
Kamo Itsuki merely nodded. He had expected nothing less. The plush toy had been a deliberate move—a controlled display of capability, a seed of uncertainty to plant in their opponents' minds. As the others began discussing tactics, he looked across the courtyard where the Kyoto students were huddled, no doubt doing the same.
The sunlight felt warm on his skin, but the air was cool with anticipation. The Sister School Exchange Event had officially begun, and it was already far more than a simple series of fights. It was the first real chessboard upon which the new generation's strengths, secrets, and wills would be tested against one another.
The revelation settled over the group, each processing it in their own way. Ieiri Shoko's brief spark of hope dimmed, replaced by the familiar, weary acceptance of their world's constraints. The plush Alaskan Malamute, Yuki Mai, nuzzled her hand, a comforting but finite tool.
Gojo Satoru, however, was already moving past the logistical dead end. His mind, ever restless, latched onto a different implication. "So it's a battery problem," he stated, tapping his temple. "The puppet itself is a decent chassis, but it runs on pre-charged cursed energy. It can't refuel itself." His Six Eyes had likely been dissecting the puppet's energy structure since it activated. "But you said 'plush toy puppets' can't. That implies something else might."
He fixed Kamo with a look that was both playful and piercing. "Itsuki. Your 'hobby' has layers, doesn't it? First the taste thing for Suguru, now semi-autonomous puppets. What's the theoretical endgame for your… research?"
The question hung in the air. Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko both turned their attention back to Kamo Itsuki, the earlier frustration momentarily forgotten in the face of Gojo's pointed curiosity.
Kamo met Gojo's gaze, his expression unreadable. He had walked them to the edge of the truth, and Gojo, with his unnerving perception, had peered right over the cliff. To deny would be suspicious; to confirm outright would be dangerous.
"A sorcerer's technique is an extension of their soul and body," Kamo began, choosing his words with the care of a scholar discussing a hypothetical. "Blood Manipulation grants me unparalleled control over biological matter and energy on a cellular level. Puppet Cursed Technique Studies is the blueprint for structure and command. Theoretically, combining them could lead to self-sustaining systems. A flesh puppet, with a properly engineered core, could potentially draw cursed energy from its environment—from residual emotions, from minor curses it suppresses, even from sunlight or geothermal heat on a metaphysical level. It would be a perpetual motion machine of jujutsu, a true artificial curse-user."
He paused, letting the staggering concept settle. "But that's all it is right now—a theory. The engineering required is astronomical. The ethical and existential questions are… profound. And as I said," he added, his voice dropping, "it violates every taboo. The Higher-ups would see it not as a tool, but as a heresy that could unravel the natural order they enforce. So, I stick to plush toys. They are useful, non-threatening, and politically inert."
Geto Suguru's eyes were wide. The concept resonated with him on a deep level—a means to fundamentally alter the exhausting, grinding calculus of their world. "A self-sustaining force… to protect non-sorcerers without consuming sorcerers…" he murmured, almost to himself.
Ieiri Shoko looked from Kamo's calm face to Yuki Mai, then to the ancient façade of Kyoto Jujutsu High ahead. The simplicity of their immediate goal—winning a school competition—suddenly felt laughably small against the vast, shadowy problems they were all just beginning to articulate.
Before the conversation could spiral further, the imposing figure of Principal Gakuganji reappeared at the courtyard's edge, his presence like a gong silencing their discussion. "Tokyo students," his voice cut through the air. "The preparation time is over. Proceed to the center of the courtyard. The first match is about to begin."
The moment of introspection shattered. The theoretical future receded, replaced by the immediate present. Kamo gave a final, slight shake of his head, a silent signal to drop the subject. As they turned to follow Gakuganji's command, the four of them walked forward not just as competitors, but as bearers of secrets and potentials that far exceeded the bounds of the sandy training ground. The exchange event was a stage, but the real drama, they were all beginning to understand, was unfolding in the wings.
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