Finally, he arrived.
The senior who was a whole grade unto himself, sounding as if he were incredibly powerful.
But the first impression he gave was nothing short of disappointing.
Among the population of Tokyo Jujutsu High, full of handsome men and beautiful women, the "average score" was about to drop significantly.
Akira thought it might be time to revise the evaluation of Tokyo Jujutsu High: here, we either have top-tier beauties or gorillas—no in-between.
That's right, Senior Kinji Hakari, just like Principal Masamichi Yaga, was built tall and burly, with broad shoulders and a sturdy waist.
If you didn't look at the face and only considered their physiques and temperaments, people might believe the two were father and son.
Father: the mob boss.
Son: the delinquent.
Even after seeing his face, Hakari's delinquent vibe didn't fade.
With messy, unkempt hair, a wrinkled uniform, and eyes that were not only small but also avoided direct contact, his overall appearance screamed, "I'm annoyed."
His facial features weren't as intimidating as Yaga's, but they still gave off a constant aura of displeasure, like everyone owed him a fortune.
This guy's idea of being "friendly" probably involved communicating with his fists.
Similarly short-tempered, Maki's brows shot up instantly. That she hadn't already smacked him with a staff was a testament to how much she'd improved her temper under Hayami's influence.
She took a step forward, snorting, "Maki Zenin. My specialty is beating people up. And I don't like it when people—"
Before Maki could finish, Kinji Hakari's expression soured, "This is pathetic. You want to take down Kyoto Jujutsu High like this?"
"This guy… is he asking for a fight?" Maki's face twisted in anger.
Just then, a white-haired figure appeared between them like a ghost: "Oh, Kinji, you're back."
"You're late again, delinquent teacher."
Kinji Hakari shot back, but this time, it wasn't out of place. After all, very few people could speak civilly with Satoru Gojo.
"You were later than me by a long shot!" Satoru Gojo retorted, unusually so. "I sent a message to both you and Atsuya three weeks ago—what took you so long? And where is Atsuya?"
"Kusakabe-sensei is on vacation," Hakari said, showing that even though second-year only had one student, their teachers were still well-staffed. "You know how he is—if he can lie down, he won't sit. If he can sit, he won't stand."
Wow. The teachers at this school really were an odd bunch.
Satoru Gojo: the problem teacher.
Atsuya Kusakabe: the master of laziness.
Shoko Ieiri: perpetually exhausted, possibly always hungover.
Even the annoyance Kinji Hakari brought with him felt lighter.
"I needed to talk to him about something important." Gojo waved his hand dismissively. "But fine, he never answers his phone or replies to emails when he's on vacation. I'll just wait until after the exchange event. What's your excuse for looking like a mess?"
"Isn't it obvious? I'm in bad shape." Hakari looked irritated.
"You lost a bet?"
"Thanks for stating the obvious."
"You scumbag."
Maki's blood pressure, which had barely gone down, shot right back up.
Although Japan, since becoming a developed nation, had grown more open-minded—especially in certain areas—there were still a couple of things it held stricter than the West. Gambling and smoking under the age of twenty were two such things. Anyone caught doing so would be branded a delinquent, possibly face suspension or even end up in a police station.
And Maki, despite her harsh tongue, was quite self-disciplined.
Hayami once commented that if Maki could fix her bad habit of speaking harshly, she'd be incredibly popular. Unfortunately, Maki had no intention of changing. She said it was too much hassle, and the tough training she did needed some form of release.
"Hey, delinquent teacher, why don't you just leave this useless guy behind? We can win without him."
"What?" Hakari's blood pressure surged instantly. Already in a bad mood after losing his gamble, this comment only fanned the flames. "You wanna fight, woman?"
"And what if I say yes?"
Maki didn't fear a fight. Winning was one thing, but losing her fighting spirit was never an option.
Hakari wasn't backing down either: "Let me be clear—on the battlefield of gambling, I show no mercy, even to women."
"Perfect!"
With that, Maki lunged forward, swinging a long staff that wasn't fitted with its blade and knocking Kinji Hakari to the ground in a single strike.
Yes, just one strike.
After the blow, Maki paused, dumbfounded.
The others were also stunned.
Tough talk, but this weak?
That shouldn't be right.
Hakari's footwork, movements, and cursed energy bursts were all top-tier, and his block had been executed perfectly. Otherwise, Maki wouldn't have swung so hard.
How could someone like that be taken down so easily?
"Get up, second-year. Don't play dead."
"He's not playing dead," Satoru Gojo said, his explanation arriving a bit late. "His Cursed Technique is tied to gambling. When he's in good condition, even I find him troublesome. But when he's in bad condition… well, you can see. In this case, it's probably like rolling a dice and getting snake eyes."
"Two snake eyes," Hakari groaned as he rubbed his arm and got up from the ground. "This is awful. I thought I'd finish quickly because I skipped breakfast, but turns out, I got KO'd instead. Maybe I shouldn't go to Kyoto after all with luck like this."
"Don't say that." Satoru Gojo casually tossed him a paper bag. "Here, I'll give you the snack I brought with me. Luck is like that—sometimes good, sometimes bad. Rolling snake eyes won't happen all the time. With your abilities, if you roll a three or higher, you'll definitely crush Kyoto, no problem."
"Wanna bet?"
Hakari pulled a die from his pocket and rolled it.
The die bounced a few times on the ground and landed with a four facing up.
"Not bad. Maybe I should try winning my money back."
Yup, it was clear now—this guy was a gambling addict through and through. His hobby was gambling, and even his Cursed Technique was related to it.
Akira recalled the student information he had received from his mother. It mentioned that Hakari had an outstanding Cursed Technique and physical abilities but was a disaster in theoretical classes.
Maki's earlier insult—calling him a scumbag—wasn't wrong at all.
Akira seriously suspected that this guy became a jujutsu sorcerer because he couldn't make it academically.
"What? You got a problem?"
Sensing Akira's stare, Hakari gave him a hostile look. It seemed he had already forgotten the earlier beating.
"What if I do?" Maki tapped her staff on the ground. "Let me tell you, this guy is Akira, the leader of our first-year group. If you mess with him, it won't be solved with just one hit."
Akira blinked. Akira the leader? What the heck?
I'm not, I didn't, stop making things up!
Before he could defend himself, Maki flipped her ponytail and loudly proclaimed, "Say it—'Good day, Leader Akira!'"
"Good day, Leader Akira."
"Salmon."
Panda and Inumaki joined in, their voices loud, and even Yuta Okkotsu wasn't exempt—he chimed in with surprising enthusiasm.
Yuta, you've really changed. Aren't we supposed to be on the same side?
"So, Leader Akira, huh? I'll remember that." Hakari seemed to take it seriously. "What do you have to say?"
Ah, whatever. If they're going to call me Leader Akira, so be it. I'll just borrow Gojo-sensei's sunglasses later and go by the name "Donquixote Doflamingo."
Resigning himself, Akira shook his head with a sigh: "I just have one question. Can your Cursed Technique be rigged? Gambling, just like fighting, is all about winning."
Hakari: "…"
He finally understood why this seemingly harmless-looking boy was considered the first-year leader.
This wasn't just a gambler—this was someone who'd cheat without hesitation.
For a moment, Hakari's friendly smile took on a slightly different shade.
Are all these first-years monsters?