Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 1 - The day everything went wrong

It all started on that late evening.

You were nestled comfortably in your dorm room, flipping through the heavy Encyclopedia of Water-Based Curses balanced on your knee. The leather binding creaked faintly as you turned each crinkled page, scanning the elaborate illustrations and lengthy descriptions. Your third bottle of mint chocolate milk sat sweating on the desk, the sugary scent mingling with old paper and worn wood polish.

Yes. That's your definition of chill. After all, you were a jujutsu sorcerer, not fighting curses or having to run for your life totally counted as a chill evening.

You enjoyed learning new things and you loved a quiet room. It was shaping up to be an excellent evening...

Until Gojo popped into your room. Literally. No knocking as usual. Screw this man and his teleport technique and his disregard for manners and politeness. A subtle displacement of air was your only warning. One moment your room was still and quiet, the next - a tall figure in a crisp black outfit and white hair beaming down at you.

"Spices! I'm going to Sendai. I'll drop by Kikusuian. Want anything?"

Gojo called out, with his bubbly enthusiasm that never failed to make you cringe.

You grimaced down at the pages in front of you.

Spices.

That stupid nickname had haunted you since your first month at the school after Gojo overheard a particularly colorful outburst of yours.

Seriously? You might be a little bit impulsive with your choice of language occasionally. But most of the time, you were the picture of decency and good manners. Gojo started it. Hakari and Kirara had adopted it with glee. And that's how the nickname stuck. Soon, your real name was forgotten. Even your underclassmen called you Spices.

Spices-senpai. How stupid is that? Now only Principal Yaga called you by your real name, and it's all Gojo's fault.

Oblivious to your sour reaction, Gojo leaned casually against your desk, cheerfully babbling on as usual:

"How about I get you your favorite, their Kikufuku mochi? The edamame ones, right? With sweet cream fillings?"

"You mean your favorite." You corrected flatly.

"Details," Gojo laughed, waving a dismissive hand. The movement sent a waft of oud and bergamot in your direction. "We both know I have impeccable taste."

You sighed. Whatever. You were not one to say no to free food, so you nodded.

"Thanks, sensei."

It's a truth universally acknowledged, that Gojo Satoru was a glutton for sweet foods and drinks, and would absolutely steal anyone's treats. That's why as soon as he plopped down next to you, you immediately moved your mint chocolate milk to the other side, safe and sound from his grabby hand. The man might have just offered to buy you expensive mochi, but you would not sacrifice your mint chocolate milk. Never your mint chocolate milk.

Gojo pouted, like he thought it made him cuter:

"You have so little faith in me, my dear student."

The best defense is a good offense. You gulped down your mint chocolate milk in one go, maintaining eye contact while at that. It caused him to chuckle. You truly were his most spoiled third year.

As you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, you decided to ask:

"Why are you going to Sendai at this hour?"

Surely not just to buy you his favorite mochi?

"I just miss those Kikufuku mochi." Gojo shrugged, throwing himself casually onto your bed. His weight made the old mattress springs creak in protest. "But I should also probably check on Fushiguro while I'm there. His mission got a bit messy."