Among all the disastrous fallouts from the Shibuya Incident, the relentless surge of cursed spirits was bad, sure, scary even. But there was one consequence that truly made your palms sweat and your wallet cry: economic inflation. That shit was the ultimate bitch.
A staggering total of twenty-three wards had been obliterated. Sukuna's rampage had effortlessly devoured entire districts.
Headquarters had deployed their standard damage control protocols. They'd blamed the carnage on a series of improbable natural disasters: earthquakes, freak tornadoes, maybe even a meteor shower of questionable origins. Anything, absolutely anything, to avoid mentioning the words "cursed spirits" and "ancient sorcerers" in government reports. Because what else could possibly explain that scale of destruction?
"I saw it!" people would insist, their eyes wide with the kind of terror you can't fake. "It had four heads and breathed fire!"
"Mass hysteria," the officials would reply smoothly, their practiced smiles never wavering. "Very common in traumatic situations. Here's a pamphlet about stress management and a prescription for something that'll make you stop asking inconvenient questions."
Any witnesses who'd reported seeing "monsters" – and there'd been many witnesses, more than money could buy off – were helpfully diagnosed with mass hysteria. A perfectly reasonable explanation, if you didn't think about it too hard. Or at all.
"But hundreds of us saw the same thing!" they'd protest.
"Group hallucination," came the rehearsed response. "Fascinating phenomenon, really. Would you like another pamphlet?"
The affected areas had been swiftly quarantined, cordoned off with barbed wire and stern-faced military personnel who'd perfected the art of looking simultaneously intimidating and completely uninformed.
"Nothing to see here, folks, move along," they'd drone, standing guard over ruins that still occasionally rumbled with otherworldly energy. "Just some routine infrastructure maintenance."
"What about the screaming we heard last night?"
"Construction work."
"At 3 AM?"
"Very dedicated construction workers."
Naturally, the Japanese economy had taken a nosedive. The stock market resembled a roller coaster designed by a sadist with a grudge against investor mental health – all steep drops and zero climbs. The yen had taken such a beating it was practically begging for mercy. Prices on essential goods – rice, ramen, toilet paper (the good kind, the one that doesn't feel like sandpaper) – skyrocketed.
"Supply chain disruptions," the economists explained, trying to apply rational logic to a situation that had left rationality sobbing in a corner. Market adjustments. Temporary volatility. All the buzzwords that meant absolutely nothing but sounded reassuringly professional.
Meanwhile, regular citizens were left juggling their budgets. The simple act of grocery shopping had become an exercise in advanced mathematics and soul-crushing decisions.
Do we really need that premium soy sauce? Is cup ramen truly a food group?
These were the philosophical questions of the new age.
In short, everything was expensive as fuck right now – a fact that hit you like a slap from reality's cold, financially ruthless hand as you stepped into the local supermarket. The place was a war zone. The lights buzzed overhead with an annoying persistence, casting a sickly pallor over the sparse shelves that made everything look even more depressing than it already was.
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Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student
FanfictionYou are a third year student at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. You are Gojo's most spoiled third year. Not that he has many options, since your classmates have all been suspended. You are Nanami's most favorite jujutsu sorcerer thanks to you...
