Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 4 - All's fair in love and war. Or... is it?

Academic activities at Tokyo Jujutsu High School were rather... erratic, for lack of a better word.

Lesson plans here weren't so much suggested guidelines as mild suggestions politely ignored by all parties involved. There was, technically, a standard curriculum approved by the Ministry of Education. No one here had ever actually laid eyes on this mythical document, but it supposedly existed. Somewhere. Gathering dust in some forgotten filing cabinet. You doubted any self-respecting sorcerer would willingly subject themselves to the horrors of geography, history, or—god forbid—civics, when there were perfectly good cursed spirits to eviscerate.

The school did have its own curriculum for specialized jujutsu training. You vaguely recalled seeing a tattered copy of it once, hidden away in the library archives, its pages yellowed and brittle with age. Last updated, you estimated, roughly sixty years ago. In a time before television, possibly even indoor plumbing.

Could the educational experience at your religious school be any more chaotic? Ha! Rhetorical question. At Tokyo Jujutsu High, literal dumpster fires during class barely elicited a raised eyebrow from the student body. Now, if the dumpster fire started quoting Nietzsche, that might be cause for concern.

Actual, flesh-melting, soul-devouring curses? Standard operating procedure.

Standard academic structure and well-defined learning outcomes? Hard pass.

Adding to the delightful pandemonium was the distinct lack of teaching staff. Tokyo Jujutsu High, as far as anyone could tell, employed exactly two teachers. One of whom was Gojo Satoru, and that explained... pretty much everything.

The man operated in two predictable modes: Chaos Incarnate/Embodiment of Pure Anarchy, and "I'm off to do something MORE important than explain basic curse theory to a bunch of rookies who'll probably die before graduation anyway."

The one thing he was good at? Dumping his responsibilities on others.

Hence you found yourself stuck with the unenviable task of tutoring all the incoming first-year students. Gojo taught you some things once upon a time and decided it was far more efficient to make you teach everyone else from now on. Downward knowledge transfer. It made perfect sense. It ate into your free time. It significantly increased your stress levels. It gave Megumi endless ammunition for mocking you relentlessly.

But! Thanks to some judicious blackmail and aggressive whining that you'd heard echoing across the school grounds for nearly three hours, Gojo had managed to badger Principal Yaga into authorizing a generous tutoring fee and a weekly hazard pay bonus. You just had to dutifully log your hours with Ijichi before the 25th of each month.

Did you mind the extra workload and sacrificed free time? Absolutely.

But would you subject yourself to the torture for cold hard cash? Abso-fucking-lutely.

That sweet, sweet early retirement fund justified pretty much anything. Even explaining cursed spirit anatomy to Panda for the fifth time. Nanami would approve. He appreciated the finer things in life, like a comfortable 401k.

Now that you finally had all three first years assembled, you could get started with the basics. Time to herd these adorable little kittens and teach them not to set themselves on fire. Too often.

***

"Why do I have to carry your books?" Megumi muttered, his complaint muffled by the enormous tower of books you had piled on his arms.

As you two turned the corner, Megumi stumbled over a random floor crack, almost sending the whole stack crashing onto both of your heads. You dodged just in time to avoid getting brained by a copy of Cursed Energy Work for Beginners.