Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 20 - Why does the sun rise every morning?

The addition of sword practice sessions with Kusakabe layered even more stress onto your already overburdened routine.

Today's grueling sessions had left their marks – Megumi sported angrily bruised ribs from his sparring bout with Maki, while you had twisted an ankle and earned a lovely bruise blooming across your cheek from an ill-advised face-first meeting with the mat during your sword practice. You mentally cursed Kusakabe yet again. Blaming him had become a comfortable reflex at this point.

Thanks to Shoko's hardline policy of only using her reversed cursed energy healing for life-threatening injuries, anything less severe had to heal the old-fashioned way. Which meant the sleepovers with Megumi and Nobara needed to be put on pause to avoid messing up both your injuries even more. Yours weren't particularly bad, but Megumi's required some serious rest. Nobara wasn't pleased with that, mumbling about how you both being weaklings, always needing downtime. As if she hadn't gotten her own ribs busted just a short while ago.

Anyway, tonight, you were back in your dorm room alone, hunched over your laptop researching the precious intel Ijichi had given you earlier. One of these people was the mole who had leaked Shoko's whereabouts and Ijichi's report. You needed to figure out exactly who.

It wasn't easy. You hadn't expected it to be. These were high-ranking administrators and executives. There was not much information about them online. But their families on the other hand? Well, let's just say you had plenty of cyber-stalking to do.

A sharp rap at the door broke your concentration. "For fuck's sake," you muttered.

Definitely Megumi coming to fret over you again despite his own beaten-up state. Nobara at least would have just barged right in and spared you the effort of limping to open the door.

You shoved the laptop aside and levered yourself up with a pained grimace. The knocking grew more insistent.

"Keep your pants on, I'm coming!" You snapped, wading through the organized clutter to make your way to the door.

You yanked open the door, already gearing up to give Megumi an earful about his motherhening habits. The words withered in your throat as you found not Megumi, but Gojo himself.

You stared at Gojo, dumbfounded, as if he'd just sprouted a second head right before your eyes. Was this real life? Gojo Satoru actually bothering to knock and request entry instead of just flinging himself brazenly into your personal space like the egotistical ass he could be?

Several beats of awkward silence ticked by as you studied him warily from across the threshold, half-expecting this polite pretense to shatter at any moment. But Gojo remained rooted in place, regarding you with an unnervingly serious expression you struggled to read.

Finally, he broke the tension: "Can I come in?"

The simple question snapped you out of your stupor with a blink. "Uh, yeah... sure," you managed, stepping back stiffly to allow him to enter.

As Gojo brushed past, that achingly familiar dark, rich cologne washed over you – a subtle scent you definitely hadn't pined for even once in a while during the weeks of frosty silence. Nope, not at all. You totally didn't miss having his arrogant ass around to aggravate the ever-loving shit out of you on a daily basis.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, you turned to find Gojo had made himself at home but not in his usual infuriating manner – basically owning any space he occupied by virtue of sheer audacity. Instead, he perched stiffly on your rickety desk chair, hands gripping the sides like a man awaiting sentencing.

Was the world ending? Had the revered Gojo Satoru gotten himself a supernatural concussion that knocked all the swagger out of him?

As you limped your way further into the cramped room, Gojo's gaze seemed to zero in on the bulky bandages on your ankle. Even with those ridiculous opaque sunglasses obscuring his eyes, you could practically feel the intensity of his stare.