Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 46 - The secrets to being a good senpai

Gakuganji had been securely – and quite literally – sidelined for the foreseeable future. It was time for some strategic housekeeping. A wave of Shoko's cursed energy here, a hum of displaced time there, and voila! Gakuganji and his merry band of goons were effectively removed from the chessboard, all neatly packaged in these musty holding cells. You even threw in those overzealous enforcers who'd paid Gojo's bedroom an unwelcome visit. They were a bit worse for wear – battered, bruised, but miraculously still drawing breath. Gojo's restraint was improving. You'd have to give him a gold star later.

For good measure, you slapped down so many Kenjaku-level wards around that place that even a highly motivated mosquito armed with a battering ram, an inexhaustible supply of caffeine pills, and a degree in quantum physics wouldn't stand a chance in hell of breaking through. Overkill? Perhaps. But in your line of work, there was no such thing as too paranoid.

With the initial stages of your delightful coup set in motion, you found yourself drawn, as you often were these days, to the quiet solace of the infirmary. It wasn't a stress-free zone, but at least the anxieties faded to a dull roar in here. You'd taken up residence beside Nobara, whispering threats disguised as reassurances, promising to kick her ass back to the land of the living if she didn't hurry up.

Choso trailed behind you, his gaze fixed on your every move with an unnerving intensity you'd grown accustomed to. There was an odd comfort to his constant, immovable presence – a strange bond forged in the crucible of grief, guilt, and that lingering "what the hell just happened?" haze.

You went through your usual routine – adjusting pillows, gently massaging life back into Nobara's immobile limbs. All the while, Choso's gaze never wavered. You'd just settled onto the edge of the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her forehead (and silently cursing the unfairness of Nobara looking flawless even in a coma), when Choso spoke.

"She took my brothers from me," he said in an emotionless monotone that held a strange lack of accusation. More a statement of fact than a condemnation.

Your hand stilled, fingers tensing before you willed yourself to relax, to mask the sudden surge of unease that coiled tight in your chest. Your eyes landed on the cat plushies that Yuji had crocheted all those months ago – a spunky orange tabby for Nobara, a scowling black void for Megumi, and a judgy standard-issue cat for you – All proudly presented next to Nobara's pillow. Megumi had stealthily snuck these little guys here to make sure Nobara wouldn't wake up alone. Drawing strength from the cat plushies, you replied at last, forcing your voice into its usual carefree cadence:

"To be fair, they were trying to kill her. And Yuji. Really," you added. "If she hadn't been there, Yuji wouldn't have survived."

Turning, you met Choso's gaze, letting the weight of your next words settle between you. "Nobara is precious to him, Choso. More than words can express. He would never... could never forgive anyone who hurt her."

Choso's expression didn't falter. There was grief there, a wave of pain that twisted his sharp features. A beat of silence. Then, he nodded. "I understand."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You knew, with a terrifying certainty, that you stood no chance against Choso if he decided to settle the score right here, right now. Your wit was sharp, but definitely not sharp enough to fend off a special grade.

Thankfully, some bonds, some loyalties, transcended even the most primal thirst for vengeance. And Choso's love for Yuji, his desperate need to atone for past transgressions... That love outweighed the pull of retribution. For now, at least.

You watched Choso, noting the rigid set of his shoulders as he perched on the edge of the windowsill across from you. Those enormous, lethal hands, hands that could crush a watermelon or a human skull just as easily, were clenched together as though he couldn't bear for them to rest idly. This was a being who'd forged his own twisted version of family in the fires of vengeance. You very much doubted he appreciated your little performance earlier – casually tossing your own parents under the bus, all smiles and nonchalant cruelty.