Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 2 - Sukuna would eat you for dessert. And not in a sexy way.

"Senpai," Megumi grumbled, his voice thick with sleep and a healthy dose of petulance. "Why are you still here?"

His attempt at sounding intimidating was rather undermined by the bunny-print scarf and fuzzy socks you'd bundled him in after Shoko's healing session. The scarf was pulled up to his nose, leaving only his bloodshot eyes glaring out at you from his fortress of pillows. His body felt heavy and disconnected, his thoughts still blurred from the anesthesia. But his annoyance at his undignified situation pierced through the fog like a laser beam of teenage angst.

Shoko had patched up all the life-threatening injuries, of course, but Megumi was still left to contend with the assorted sprains, bruises, and non-lethal cuts. Shoko refused to work on anything not likely to result in imminent death.

"If I started treating every little boo-boo," she'd informed you once, months ago, through a cloud of cigarette smoke, "my work hours would never end. Let the body heal what it can. It builds character."

You shrugged off the memory and answered Megumi without looking up from your laptop screen. "Ieiri-san wants me to keep an eye on you until the good stuff wears off," you explained. "We both know you'll try to escape the moment you can feel your toes again."

Megumi harrumphed, but couldn't argue with the truth of that statement. Not after you'd had to physically peel him off the floor of the common room just hours ago, after his ill-advised and somewhat wobbly attempt to prove he was perfectly fine. Which he most definitely was not.

"Is that so?" he huffed, sinking deeper into the pillows. "That's why you're taking up half my bed?"

That's when you finally looked up from your work, taking in the scene with a critical eye.

Your little makeshift workspace did, admittedly, monopolize a significant portion of his mattress. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop perched precariously on the edge of the bed, your notes, pens, and highlighters scattered everywhere. Library books were piled haphazardly around you, forming a defensive wall against the encroaching forces of boredom.

"I need a place to work." You smiled disarmingly, making no move to gather your belongings. Megumi seemed comfortable enough on his half of the bed. So. This side was yours now. Squatter's rights and all that. Besides, you were doing important work. Very important. World-saving, possibly.

"And it's cozy here," you added, poking his blanketed foot affectionately. "Besides, who could resist a grumpy sea urchin swaddled in bunnies?"

"You could work on my desk like a normal person," Megumi grumbled once more, tugging at his blanket, which sent a cascade of your pens tumbling toward the floor.

You deftly caught the pens mid-air without breaking your focus on the laptop screen. Your eyes were glued to the chilling footage of Sukuna's first manifestation in a thousand years. You'd already watched the scant eleven seconds of shaky video over fifty times, parsing every frame, every flicker of movement for clues.

Even after transcribing every observable detail and cross-referencing everything with what little information available in history books, there were still so many gaps to fill. Very few sorcerers in history had ever met Ryomen Sukuna and lived to tell the tale, let alone write a comprehensive account of the experience. You had eleven seconds of Sukuna in action. It was more than anyone else in the entire history of jujutsu sorcery had ever managed to collect.

"The records saySukuna had four arms," you mused aloud, lost in thought. "So... why did Yuji just grow two extra eyes? No extra arms?"

You didn't realize you'd spoken out loud until Megumi scowled at you.