"Huh? Baseball?"
Inside the Kyoto school's waiting room.
Everyone stared at the white-haired man with the blindfold like he was an alien as he barged in with a punchable grin on his face.
"Exactly! Baseball!"
Satoru Gojo gave a thumbs-up, flashing a row of sparkling white teeth.
"Since everyone worked so hard during yesterday's group battle..."
"Wouldn't it be a bit inhumane to follow up with one-on-one deathmatches today?"
"Therefore!"
He suddenly whipped out a baseball bat from behind his back, even giving it a couple of practice swings for dramatic effect.
"To foster friendship between our two schools! To embody the burning passion of youth! We've decided to change the second day's individual matches into—a friendly baseball ga!"
"Who gave you permission to decide that?!"
The Kyoto school's teacher, Utahi Iori, finally reached her limit. A vein throbbed on her forehead as she hurled her teacup straight at him.
"This is the traditional Sister-School Goodwill Event of Jujutsu High! How can you be so flippant about it!"
"Oh, Utahi, don't be so stiff."
Gojo caught the cup with ease and poured himself so tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
His movents were fluid, as if he had anticipated her reaction all along.
"Look, these kids are under so much pressure."
"Especially after yesterday's Special Grade Cursed Spirit attack."
At this point, his tone turned slightly serious, even if only for a fleeting second.
"They need to relax properly, both physically and ntally."
"And besides..."
Gojo leaned in close to Principal Yoshinobu Gakuganji, who was currently closing his eyes and pretending to be deaf.
In a voice ant only for the two of them, he whispered:
"Old man, you want to see it too, don't you?"
"Whether that kid Yoru has any other tricks up his sleeve besides just cutting things down."
Gakuganji's eyes snapped open, a sharp glint flashing in his cloudy, aged gaze.
Indeed.
After yesterday's battle, he had developed a deep interest in the boy who possessed a body like a 'Heavenly Restriction' yet could use slashes similar to Breathing Styles.
One might even call it wariness.
If he could observe more intel about him in a non-life-threatening confrontation...
"Ahem."
Gakuganji cleared his throat and thudded his cane firmly against the floor.
"Since Gojo-sensei has put it that way, let us proceed as he suggests."
"Principal?!"
Utahi looked at her principal in disbelief, as if seeing this stubborn old man for the first ti.
"Hahaha! I knew you were the most reasonable one here, old-tir!"
Gojo laughed and slapped Gakuganji on the shoulder so hard he nearly knocked the old man's bones out of alignnt.
"Then it's settled! The match starts this afternoon!"
...
2:00 PM.
The sun was bright, and the breeze was mild.
The athletic field, originally ant for the individual tournant, had been transford into a regulation baseball diamond.
Even a scoreboard and spectator stands had been prepared.
"As expected of Gojo-sensei, his efficiency is off the charts."
Yuji Itadori, dressed in a red and white baseball uniform with a glove in hand, ran around the field excitedly.
"But why do we have to wear these weird uniforms?"
gumi Fushiguro tugged at his clothes with a look of pure disgust. The words 'Tokyo Jujutsu High' were printed in large letters across the front in an embarrassingly bright shade of hot pink.
"Gojo-sensei had these custom-made as our 'Victory Garb.'"
Nobara Kugisaki, on the other hand, had adapted quickly. She checked her hair in a mirror and nodded with satisfaction.
"The color is a bit much, but the fit isn't bad."
anwhile, on the other side.
The atmosphere of the Kyoto school's team was much more somber.
Especially for Aoi Todo.
Wearing his signature tight tank top that emphasized every muscle, he stood with his arms crossed, staring intensely at Yuji Itadori.
"My brother! Even though we are best friends, I won't show any rcy on the field!"
"I didn't ask for any, Todo-senpai!"
Yuji shouted back.
"Hmph, quite spirited."
With the shrill blast of the referee's whistle, the ga officially began.
First Inning.
Kyoto's turn at bat.
The batter was Aoi Todo.
He slowly stepped into the batter's box, but instead of taking a stance, he took a deep breath and—
"Before I swing, I shall first deliver a lecture on the relationship between butts and souls!"
Total silence fell over the field.
Just as Todo opened his mouth to begin his long-winded speech...
Whoosh—
Thwack!
A white baseball flew in like a cannonball, hitting him square in the face with pinpoint accuracy.
"Strike! Batter's out!"
The referee made the call without a shred of rcy.
"Hey! I wasn't ready yet!"
Todo protested, clutching his swollen face.
"The field is a battlefield! The enemy won't wait for you to finish your speech before attacking!"
On the pitcher's mound, Maki Zenin coldly pushed up her glasses. She weighed the next ball in her hand, her eyes filled with murderous intent.
The rest of the ga could only be described as brutal.
Maki's pitches were aid directly at people's bodies, and she was clearly trying to take Todo out for good.
Kyoto wasn't about to be outdone, though.
Although chamaru couldn't be there in person, he controlled a massive pitching machine to play in his stead.
The machine looked like a miniature tank, its dark muzzle emitting a chilling, heart-stopping glint.
Finally.
It was Tokyo's turn to bat.
"Next batter, Yoru!"
At the sound of the announcent.
Yoru, who had been sitting quietly in the dugout drinking water, stood up.
He picked up a black tal bat and slowly walked toward the batter's box.
It was a simple movent, yet the air in the stadium seed to freeze in an instant.
All eyes were on him.
The boy who had fended off a Special Grade Cursed Spirit with a single blade yesterday—the monster hailed as the 'Cursed-Energy-Less Sword Saint.'
He stood there.
He didn't take a standard baseball stance.
Instead, he gripped the end of the bat with both hands, lowering his center of gravity slightly with his feet staggered.
That stance...
It was exactly as if he were holding a katana!
"Hey, hey, is this guy serious?"
Kyoto's catcher, Noritoshi Kamo, couldn't help but swallow hard as he looked through his mask at Yoru's terrifyingly calm eyes.
Even though the boy held a baseball bat.
He felt as if a sharp blade were being pointed directly at his throat.
That pressure.
It was even more intense than facing a Special Grade Cursed Spirit!
"Hmph, just posturing."
In the control room, chamaru snorted.
He operated the pitching machine, cranking the power up to its maximum setting.
"No matter how great your swordsmanship is, it's futile against absolute speed and power!"
Whirrr—
The muzzle of the pitching machine began to flash red. The internal gears spun frantically, emitting a piercing grinding sound.
"I specifically boosted this machine's limit to 300 km/h just for this mont!"
"Co at , Special Grade!"
BOOM!
Accompanied by a thunderous roar.
The white baseball vanished instantly, turning into a blurred afterimage as it rocketed straight for Yoru's face!
That wasn't a pitch!
That was a lethal shell!
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