Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 55 - Of mushrooms, Mjölnir, and love

The sun had long since set when you strolled into Ijichi's office. The horrified yelp he released was both expected and deeply satisfying. His reaction was reasonable. Your unannounced visits had a historical tendency of preceding catastrophic events, administrative nightmares, and the occasional international incident.

The last time you'd popped in like this, he'd been coerced into committing high treason. And the time before that? Three departments at Headquarters had to be restructured and almost everyone you knew, Ijichi included, ended up in jail.

You sauntered in and deposited a takeout box of high-end dumplings on his desk with a theatrical flourish. The logo from the expensive shop across the city gleamed mockingly – another casualty of Gojo's endless credit limit. The peace offering did little to ease the growing panic in Ijichi's eyes as you made yourself comfortable in the chair across from him, crossing your legs with the air of someone about to propose something terribly, terribly inconvenient.

"Ijichi-san," you chirped. "I need a teeny-tiny favor."

"What kind of favor?" Ijichi asked cautiously, then quickly added, "And more importantly, do I have the option to refuse?"

Your bright laugh made him sink further into his chair as if he was trying to meld with the upholstery and disappear from your line of sight.

"Come on! It's just a small thing! And I promise, there's absolutely no treason involved this time!"

"That's... not as reassuring as you think it is," Ijichi muttered, but gestured for you to continue, resigned to his fate. "What exactly are you scheming now?"

(What choice did he have? You'd get what you wanted, one way or another. )

Leaning across his desk, you lowered your voice conspiratorially, "You still have the account to that hitman website, right?" You purposely kept it vague – Ijichi still twitched whenever anyone mentioned that unfortunate event. "I need you to place an order for me."

The color drained from Ijichi's face so fast you worried he might faint. "Who—" he squeaked, hands gripping his desk edge, "who are you trying to kill? Who managed to piss you off this badly?"

"Oh please," you scoffed, waving your hand around. "If I wanted someone dead, I'd do it myself. You know I'm unmatched when it comes to ambush. Why waste money outsourcing what I do best?"

Your attempt at reassurance had the complete opposite effect. Ijichi looked, if possible, even more disturbed. His eyes darted between you, the box of dumplings, and his emergency exit route with escalating desperation. He was trapped. He knew it. You knew it.

"It's really quite simple," you continued. "Just a straightforward task. Nothing complicated at all."

As you outlined the details of this "simple" task, Ijichi's complexion shifted through an impressive spectrum of pale shades. By the time you'd finished, he looked like he'd aged several years and needed intensive therapy – possibly even an exorcism.

"This isn't just some 'simple task,' Spices," Ijichi hissed. "This is worse than treason – and I'm speaking as someone who's helped you commit actual treason before." He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he glanced nervously at his office door, likely expecting the higher-ups – or perhaps a SWAT team – to burst in at any moment. "If even a whiff of this gets traced back to us... There won't be any hearings, no investigations. They'll execute us on the spot!"

"That's why we won't get caught," you replied with an easy grin. Your confidence somehow added another layer of dread to his already considerable anxiety.

Adjusting his glasses – a nervous tic you'd meticulously documented and observed happened exactly 47% more frequently when you were involved – Ijichi desperately searched for any potential flaw in your plan, any loophole he could exploit to deter you from this madness.