Chapter 18: When Jujutsu Breaks the Rules

The arena was still buzzing from Jason’s victory when Kevin stepped forward.

Before he could cross the line, a sharp voice cut through the noise.

“Stop.”

Kevin halted mid-step.

Kusekabe stood between him and the arena, hand raised, expression tight.

“You are not allowed to use special grade cursed tools,” Kusekabe said. 

“Rule two is very clear on that.”

Kevin stared at him for a moment, then sighed.

“I’m not bringing one.”

Kusekabe’s eyes hardened.
“Your cursed technique summons them. That’s no different.”

A low murmur spread through the stands.

Kevin tilted his head. “So if I pick up a sword, it’s illegal. But if my cursed technique hands me one, suddenly that’s a problem?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Kusekabe snapped.

 “Rules exist to prevent loopholes like this.”

Kevin’s jaw tightened.

He looked past Kusekabe—up toward the elevated seats where the Japanese delegation sat.

Yuki Gojo stood calmly, Six Eyes still covered.

Kevin spoke again—but sharper.

“Then maybe don’t make me fight someone who can see every move I’ll make and never gets tired.”

That shut the arena up.

Even Kusekabe paused.

The barrier shimmered as a projection formed above the arena. The Big 6 representatives appeared, their expressions unreadable.

The Zenin clan head scoffed.
“Special grade tools tip the scale. That technique violates the agreement.”

Elle replied evenly,
“So does the Six Eyes. Yet here we are.”

“The Six Eyes is not a weapon,” another voice argued.

Tengen’s presence pressed down on the space—calm, ancient, unavoidable.

“The Six Eyes,” Tengen said, “is an advantage so absolute it reshapes probability itself.”

Silence followed.

“If fairness were our goal,” Tengen continued, “this match would not exist.”

Kusekabe clenched his fist.

“So we just abandon the rules?”

“No,” Tengen replied.
“We acknowledge their limits.”

The projection turned slightly—toward Kevin.

“His technique will be permitted.”

A ripple of shock ran through the stands.

“Not because it is fair,” Tengen added,
“but because his opponent is not.”

The projection vanished.

Kusekabe exhaled slowly, then looked at Kevin.

“3 rolls,” he said flatly.

“If I see more than that. I’ll end the match & disqualify you.”

Kevin met his gaze, eyes steady.

“One roll is all I need.”

Kusekabe stepped aside.

 

 

Kevin walked into the arena.

Across from him, Yuki Gojo smiled faintly.

 

“So,” Yuki said, “you can also break the rules huh.”

Kevin cracked his knuckles.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

 

The barrier sealed.

Kusekabe raised his hand.

“Begin.”

 

 

The moment Kusekabe’s hand dropped—

Yuki Gojo launched.

He hurled himself forward like a projectile, cursed energy detonating beneath his feet. The arena floor cratered as Yuki crossed the distance in an instant, body angled forward, fist already chambered.

Kevin’s eyes widened.

Too fast.

He threw a straight palm strike on instinct- precise & reinforced, aimed directly at Yuki’s chest.

Yuki twisted mid-air.

The palm sliced past empty space as Yuki rotated around it, body spinning— his leg came down in a brutal arc.

Kevin barely raised his guard.

The spinning kick slammed into his forearms with a concussive blast.

The impact drove him straight to his knees.

Stone shattered beneath him as a shockwave rippled outward, rattling the arena walls. Kevin gritted his teeth, arms screaming under the pressure.

Yuki landed lightly a few meters away and took two casual steps back, hands loose at his sides.

No follow-up.

No rush.

Kevin sucked in a sharp breath, forcing himself upright.

How do you beat the Six Eyes?

Yuki tilted his head slightly.

Then his hands rose.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

He began unwrapping the white bandana from his eyes.

The crowd leaned forward.

As the cloth fell away, six luminous pupils bloomed into view. The Six Eyes spun quietly, mapping everything.

Kevin felt it immediately.

Every muscle shift.
Every breath.
Every possible future narrowing,

All seen by Yuki.

“So,” Kevin said, “this is the technique that made the higher-ups nervous.”

Kevin smiled.

“Then let me show you mine.”

He brought his hands together.

“Dice Game—activate.”

Cursed energy surged.

A shikigami materialized between his palms—an oversized, floating die, its surface carved with ancient markings. The numbers pulsed faintly as it spun.

Kevin hurled it forward.

The dice struck the arena floor—

—and stopped.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then—

Steam exploded outward.

A violent plume engulfed Kevin entirely, blasting across the arena in a roaring wave. Spectators gasped, several instinctively throwing up barriers as visibility dropped to zero.

“What the hell—?” someone shouted from the stands.

 

 

In the VIP booth, Elle leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

“Kevin’s technique is inherently unpredictable,” she said.
“That’s why he’ll win.”

The head of the Gojo clan chuckled softly beside her.

“Care to wager on that?”

 

 

The steam began to thin.

As it cleared, a silhouette emerged.

Kevin stood upright.

In his hands was a massive scythe—its blade jagged and dark, cursed inscriptions crawling along its edge.

 Steam leaked continuously from the weapon, hissing as it touched the ground.

The air around it warped.

Yuki studied the scythe with interest, Six Eyes spinning faster.

“So,” Yuki said,
“your technique grants you access to special grade cursed tools.”

Kevin rested the scythe against his shoulder, grin widening.

“Let me guess,” he replied.
“You’ve got really good eyes.”

Yuki smiled back.

This fight had officially begun.

 

Kevin moved first.

The scythe screamed through the air, its blade dragging heat behind it as Kevin swung toward Yuki in a wide, brutal arc.

Yuki stepped aside effortlessly.

The blade passed where his neck had been a moment earlier, steam bursting from its edge as it carved through empty space.

Kevin didn’t stop.

He swung again.

And again.

Each strike heavier than the last.

With every movement, more heat poured from the scythe. Steam rolled across the arena floor, thickening with every second. Visibility dropped rapidly—stone, fighters, even the crowd beyond the barrier began to blur.

Yuki’s Six Eyes tracked everything.

At least—until they didn’t.

Yuki slowed down

The steam had swallowed the entire arena.

And Kevin’s presence—

—was gone.

The first cut came without warning.

A sharp line opened across Yuki’s arm.

Blood splashed against the stone.

Silence.

Then—

Another slash.

His left leg.

A third—

Across his torso.

The crowd erupted.

Megumi leaned forward sharply.
“He’s actually holding his own.”

Cyan’s fists clenched at her sides.
“He’s been working really hard,” she said quietly.
“Ever since we became first-grade sorcerers.”

Ava didn’t look convinced.
“Don’t count out the Six Eyes just yet.”

Back in the arena, cursed energy surged.

Another strike came from Yuki’s blind side—

—but this time, Yuki moved with it.

He turned into the swing, slipping past the blade by a hair, and caught Kevin’s wrist mid-motion.

The steam tore apart.

Kevin was forced into view, eyes wide—

—and Yuki hurled him upward.

But Kevin adapted.

He twisted mid-air, cursed energy flooding down into his feet.

Domain Amplification.

The air warped.

Kevin stepped—

—and landed.

Invisible footing formed beneath him, faintly glowing as cursed energy flickered and stabilized.

The Big Six rose to their feet.

Elle’s eyes lit up.

She laughed.

“Oh,” she said, delighted.
“He might actually become a monster.”

Ava’s mouth fell open.

Nathan stared, stunned.

Cyan blinked.
“…Why is that such a big deal?”

Ava swallowed.

“He’s partially deploying his domain,” she said slowly, eyes locked on Kevin.

“Instead of expanding it, he’s channelling it. Just enough to solidify his cursed energy beneath his feet.”

She shook her head.

“That’s absurdly difficult feat to reach. You need precision, control, and lots of talent.”

“He’s must be a genius.” Nathan finished quietly.

Kevin stood suspended in the air, scythe resting against his shoulder.

Then—

He launched off from the steps he created.

The sound came after the impact.

Kevin launched himself toward Yuki at Mach 1 speed, space folding as he accelerated. The collision detonated like a bomb.

The arena ceased to exist.

Stone vaporized.

The ring collapsed inward.

A shockwave tore through the barriers as dust and rubble swallowed everything.

When the sound finally caught up—

—there was nothing left but destruction.

 

 

When the dust began to settle.

Bit by bit, the shattered arena came back into view—cracked stone, collapsed platforms, scorched earth.

And at the center of it—

Yuki Gojo.

He stood upright, calm, unmarked.

One hand was wrapped around Kevin’s neck.

Kevin dangled just above the rubble, boots scraping uselessly as he gasped for air. His scythe had vanished. His cursed energy flickered weakly.

The arena was silent.

Yuki looked at him.

With certainty.

“You did well,” Yuki said evenly.
“But understand this.”

He tightened his grip just enough for Kevin to choke.

“Even if you came at me at light speed,” Yuki continued,
“I would still catch you.”

Kevin’s vision blurred.

In the stands, Cyan lurched forward.

“—Kevin!”

Megumi tried to stop  her—

—but a hand snapped out in front of them.

Nathan.

His expression was cold. Final.

“Don’t,” he warned.
“I’ll knock you out if I have to.”

Cyan stared at him, disbelief flooding her face.

“He’s going to kill him!”

Nathan didn’t flinch.

“Then so be it,” he said flatly.
“That’s what it means to be a sorcerer.”

Something in Cyan snapped.

She turned on him, fury shaking her voice.

“Is that what you told yourself,” she hissed,
“when they killed Lisa, huh?”

The air dropped.

Nathan turned slowly.

And then—

His cursed energy surged.

Killing intent flooded the space between them like ice water. Cyan froze, breath catching in her throat as instinct screamed at her to run.

For the first time—

She was afraid of him.

“Enough.”

Ava’s voice cut through the tension.

“Look.”

Back in the arena—

Yuki released Kevin.

He hurled him aside without ceremony. Kevin hit the ground hard, coughing violently, curling inward as air finally rushed back into his lungs.

Yuki didn’t look back.

He turned and walked toward the exit.

Just another match.

Kusakabe exhaled slowly, tension draining from his shoulders.

“Winner of this match,” he announced,
“Yuki Gojo.”

The scoreboard flickered.

Japan: 1
South Africa: 1

The crowd stirred again—but the energy had shifted.

This wasn’t sport anymore.

Kusakabe cleared his throat.

“Up next,” he said, voice steady,
“Cyan Mowbray versus Fugaku Kamo.”

Cyan clenched her fists.

Her chest burned.

Not with fear.

With resolve.