Your Life As A Tokyo Jujutsu High Background Student

Chapter 60 - Kingmaker

The December morning air bit sharp and clean as Tokyo Jujutsu High buzzed with the frenetic energy of an overturned beehive. Everyone had their assigned "fun" tasks – a term that stretched the definition of "fun" to its breaking point. Still, busy hands meant quieter minds, or so the theory went. Giving people something to do created a comforting illusion of control, the sense that they were in the know. Sometimes, the kindest thing you could do was let people believe they understood what was happening.

The unfortunates left without assigned busywork, however, had started to get twitchy. Case in point: Kusakabe. He ambushed you the moment you emerged from your room, looking like he'd been lurking in the shadows since the pre-dawn frost had melted off the grass. The man practically vibrated with nervous energy.

"What exactly are you plotting?" he demanded, his hand clamping down on your arm with the desperation of a man grabbing a life raft in choppy seas.

"Morning to you too, sensei!" you plastered on what you hoped was your most innocent smile, a sugary confection designed to distract from the creeping dread in the air. "Love to chat, but I'm kind of in the middle of something. Rain check?"

Kusakabe wasn't buying what you were selling. He'd seen you peddle your wares before, after all, and probably still had the scars to prove it. His expression morphed from worried to outright alarmed, the way someone's face might crumple when they see storm clouds gathering over their picnic. His grip on your arm tightened another notch, as if expecting you to sprout wings and take flight to evade further interrogation.

"Cut the crap, kid," he growled, the worry making his voice rough. "You're cooking up something. I want to know what. Should I be calling in evacuation protocols?"

The genuine fear threading through his voice made your heart twist. You'd apparently pushed the panic button a bit harder than you'd intended.

"It's all under control, sensei," you reassured him, patting his chest in what you hoped was a reassuring manner. It came off more like a condescending pat-pat. "I promise nobody's kicking the bucket today. At least, not on my watch."

"That's... spectacularly not reassuring, coming from you." Kusakabe's eyes searched yours. His voice dropped to nearly a resigned whisper. "Look, I understand if you don't trust me. We're not exactly close, and you've got Gojo watching your back already. But... I worry about you."

His raw honesty knocked the prepared deflections right out of your lungs. You sagged back against the wall, feeling the cold seep through your clothes as guilt gnawed at your insides.

"Sensei, it's not... it's not that I don't trust you," you began, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. "Of course, I do. Hell, I'd trust you with my life – I thought you knew that by now. It's just... I don't want you mixed up in this mess. I'm about to do something so monumentally insane—"

"That describes literally everything you do," Kusakabe interrupted dryly. Fair point.

"Fine. Let's just say it's the craziest, most batshit insane thing I've ever done, or will ever do in my entire life, okay?" Seeing the color drain from Kusakabe's face, you hastily added, "But! Good news! I've totally got this under control! It's just... the kind of situation where being able to honestly say 'I had absolutely no freaking idea what that lunatic was planning' might save your life."

"Somehow," Kusakabe groaned, "that's even more terrifying."

He finally released your arm, only to slump against the wall beside you, looking utterly defeated. The morning light caught the worry lines etched around his eyes, casting tiny shadows that made him look impossibly tired. He suddenly looked every one of his years, and then some.