Jujutsu Kaisen: I Have A Gardevoir

Confusion.

Shock.

Kamo Noritoshi never expected that Akira would ask him to do this.

Didn't Akira just say that his mother's safety was the top priority? And now he wants to throw himself right into the lion's den?

All my planning on how to keep this matter secret, even stalling Gojo Yoshinobu for it, was in vain.

Although limited by the "Binding Vow," a contract is dead, and people are alive. Depending on the way one says things, similar words can convey entirely different meanings.

"I can't decide for myself; you can ask my father" — this is leading them to ask.

"This isn't something I can disclose" — this is a soft rejection.

To this, Akira merely asked, "The Exchange Event is a display for the entire Jujutsu community. Based on my performance, how much attention do you think I've garnered?"

Noritoshi's pupils instantly contracted.

He knew exactly where the issue lay.

Due to his age, he wasn't particularly familiar with the name "Hayami," but the older generation definitely would be.

Whether it was in their native country or in Japan, Hayami wasn't a common name.

And with Akira's abnormal performance in the individual battles, it would be stranger not to have suspicions arise.

If Noritoshi continued trying to hide it, those suspicions would inevitably spread to him as well.

His father would deem him an unworthy successor.

The doubting and calculating person, whom he called his mother only in name, would think even more.

It would be better to just come clean and, in doing so, shut everyone's mouth once and for all.

"I understand. I will return now and inform them. Tonight's meeting between us—"

"Tell them everything, including your thoughts, why you moved with Zenin Mai. You know better than me how much to say and where to place the emphasis; after all, I haven't carried the name Kamo for years."

Noritoshi caught the drift.

This tactic was originally one that conservatives, no, specifically the Western world, excelled in—the perfect example being the BBC and the New York Times.

During the COVID pandemic, they would describe cities grinding to a halt, but through their lens, it would be phrased as "under the pandemic, cities are less congested, and traffic conditions have improved."

Sure, traffic has improved—nobody's on the streets.

Compared to that, what Noritoshi had to do seemed simple.

"I'm only trying to protect family secrets, which is why I went to such lengths, using various seemingly reasonable excuses to leave school—and for that, I even owe Zenin Mai a favor.

Father, you have to trust my 'sincere loyalty.'"

The last part, of course, wouldn't be said aloud, but the Kamo family should be able to sense his attitude.

"However, in this way, I fear my ability to act will be greatly limited."

"That's fine. It's supposed to be that way." Akira shook his head calmly. "Your involvement in this won't put the clan leader or the head lady at ease. So it's best if you show your position early and leave the scene early. If anyone asks, just tell them it's inconvenient to interfere and that you'll let the clan leader handle it."

"Sounding the alarm" would mean that Noritoshi chose the latter between familial ties and personal gains—at least on the surface.

For the Noritoshi Kamo who "pursued fame and fortune," staying out of trouble was the best choice. Because whether he helped either side, it would harm his reputation on the other side.

In short, "More action, more mistakes; no action, no mistakes."

"In that case, be careful. What you might face could be up to a third or at least a quarter of the pressure from the Kamo clan." Noritoshi placed a hand on Akira's shoulder.

"I know what you're worried about, but it's fine. I'm waiting for her—we'll see each other when there's a chance. You know how to reach me."

The night breeze blew, rustling Akira's traditional wide robe. He put the hat back on, placed his hands inside his sleeves, and disappeared into the dark alleys.

Noritoshi stood still, crossing one arm across his chest and placing the other under his chin, muttering to himself, "What exactly does he want to do?"

One battle of wits, one battle of strength, one exchange—he thought he had understood Akira's intentions. But in the end, he realized it was still like seeing through fog.

Not only him—Gojo Satoru and the Zenin sisters also had their speculations, but they still couldn't grasp the whole picture.

It wasn't because their brains didn't work. It was because Akira had been preparing for this day for a long time—even before he joined Jujutsu High.

Every move Akira made during this trip to Kyoto was intricately planned, with every step interlocking perfectly.

Every action was both a test and a setup.

Would Noritoshi agree to meet? Would he accept the way Akira arranged it? All these were part of the plan.

He complied, and he gained Akira's goodwill and a plan for self-preservation.

He didn't comply? No problem. Akira also had ways. There were plenty of ways to get the message to the Kamo family.

Only, how to deal with Noritoshi and the Kamo clan afterward would be a different story.

"More action, more mistakes; no action, no mistakes." Is that right? Yes and no.

Sometimes, even doing nothing is a mistake.

It all depends on what the matter is, and who defines it.

According to the pre-event predictions, the current situation wasn't ideal, but overall, it was pretty good.

So, my dear father and mother, how will you respond?

Will it go as I expected? Or will it be unexpected?

Suddenly, Akira felt a sense of anticipation.

Unknowingly, his fighting spirit grew.

"It's burning up..."

"Really? Should I cool you down a bit?"

A voice suddenly came from behind him, and he felt something hard and cylindrical pointed at the back of his head.

Turning his head, Akira saw a gun rarer than a revolver, said to be unique in the world—the Thompson Contender.

Though called a handgun, it was more like a rifle's configuration. It used .223 Remington rifle bullets, and its power could rival that of a rifle.

Even the famous Desert Eagle in the world of handguns would be a junior compared to it.

The owner of the gun was none other than Kyoto's only gunslinger, Zenin Mai.

"If you want to cool me down, I'd prefer a method that's gentler and chillier." Akira stopped in his tracks, expression unchanged.

He knew what Mai meant—dead men were, indeed, cold.

"What if I say no?" Mai raised her eyebrow, her gaze challenging.

"Come on now, a person needs to have a conscience. This Contender is something I recommended to you," Akira said.

"I already paid you for it. Besides that, you've dragged me into the storm involving the Kamo clan. How should I settle this debt?"

In matters that didn't involve direct combat, Mai was considerably more perceptive than Maki. Though she didn't initially notice it, the more she thought about it, the more wrong it seemed.

Especially seeing Noritoshi hastily coming out of the alley, claiming he had to return home immediately, she finally realized—did these two squinting brothers trick her?

She initially thought it was just a matter between brothers, like her and her sister. But she neglected to consider that these two brothers' positions were far more complicated than those of her and her sister.

One was the future representative of the conservative faction, while the other was a key figure in Gojo's faction. The entanglement between these two, and matters requiring a "Binding Vow," could never be simple.

"I'm just an insignificant member of the Zenin clan, I can't afford to mess with big, influential people. What do you say I should do?"

"Do nothing," Akira shrugged indifferently. "Precisely because you're a fringe character, big shots won't care. And since you're from the Zenin clan, no one will do anything to you."

Mai had to admit that Akira made sense, but somehow, the words sounded so annoying coming from his mouth.

"Fine, fine, I'm just a nobody who can't catch the eye of you big shots. But even a nobody has a temper. So, what if I just pull the trigger now? Wouldn't you like to see your own brains splattered?"

Saying this, she even toyed with the trigger.

"You won't. I bet there's no bullet in your gun—want to try it out? If a bullet fires, I lose," Akira said calmly, as if he had unwavering confidence.

"Tch, can't even scare you—boring."

Mai indeed moved the gun away, and with a flick of her wrist, the chamber opened automatically, revealing an empty interior.

"How did you guess?"

"I guessed."

As he spoke, Akira made a hand gesture secretly, signaling to Darkrai not to move.

It's always good to have precautions. Darkrai had been hiding in the shadows, on guard, and without Akira's permission, no one would come near.

"You guessed it so accurately—I don't believe you. Did you know what my cursed technique is?" Mai reloaded the gun and aimed it again at Akira's head.

Akira let out an exaggerated, "What? You have a cursed technique? I thought you could only enhance yourself with cursed energy? Unless it's for messing with your sister? Nope, gotta tell Maki."

"Akira!"

Mai was furious—angry at that clueless jerk, angry at herself for always falling into his game.

Am I really that pathetic?

"Relax, I won't say anything," Akira stopped, satisfied. "Your sister asked me about you before, and I didn't say anything—I told her to ask you herself. What happens between you and your sister is something only you can work through. At most, I might give a little push."

"I don't need your fake kindness," Mai snapped, her anger still simmering.

"Alright, let's not talk about that. Let's talk about something else. Our deal was just about relaying the message and giving advice. Since you went above and beyond to help tonight, I can promise you one more thing—within reason. What do you say?"

Akira couldn't predict the future. No matter how well-prepared he was, it was impossible to cover every angle.

The fact that Mai got involved was indeed unexpected. Akira hadn't anticipated she'd follow all the way through—he had thought that introducing a channel and giving her a recommendation would be enough.

Though he thought Mai wouldn't face any trouble, increased risk was an objective reality. Akira was willing to make up for his oversight.

"Deal," Maki responded. A woman's face is like the June sky - changing at every notice. "I want you to—"