Chapter 60

Jujutsu High, Tokyo
1st September, 07:15 JST

Time and time again, in this lifetime and the last, I had heard the adage that time was cyclical. History repeating, time being a flat circle, patterns etched into the fabric of reality so deeply that events could not help but resemble one another even when entirely unrelated.

The start of the second semester was on a Wednesday, marking the end of a long and eventful summer.

All in all, the feelings swimming through my heart were manifold, but mostly resolved into a quiet longing.

I had liked summer after all.

On the first day, I hadn’t known what to do with myself. The days before Jujutsu High were predictable and routine. I was the leader of the Hibana clan and all its vassals, meaning that I always had my hands full with some case or other, all the while as I forced my subordinates to dance to my choreography of an ideal society—as ideal as one could be, given the circumstances.

The great leap forward for the Association of Curse Experts. A transitionary period of much blood, much oppression, and finally, the dawning of likeminded individuals rising up to embrace the yoke which I placed upon them. This would keep the machine fed and automatic. Its operators would still bumble blindly, necessitating that I correct their course every now and then, but that would require considerably less of my attention.

Thanks to my Cursed Trait, I could attend to all these matters without much issue, resolving blood feuds within the Ogura clan while addressing unrest in the Kagae clan—a contingent of non-sorcerers wishing to abscond and enter mundane society, to escape me. I arbitrated when a murder had been committed in the Shiba clan—a death resulting from one person egging on another in the hopes that they would give the first person just cause to kill them.

The Mori clan were the most well-behaved, as they were all but members of the Hibana clan already—in good standing as well. Forcing them to watch as their loved ones were slaughtered en masse had wounded them to their core, but what had truly killed their spirit was no subsequent torture or violence. It was the dignity I afforded to them, as well-treated members of my clan. The carrot that would help them forget about how deeply the stick had lashed them.

Humans were simple creatures. In the face of such extreme operant conditioning, it took a special kind of mindset to continue rebelling—a mindset that none of the former clan of barrier technique experts possessed. At least, the ones I had spared.

This was all to say that as Hibana Teira, Clan Head, I had no shortage of things to occupy my infinite attention.

But as a first-year of Jujutsu High, and friend to several other students, my life had somehow become ten times more complicated than before. A new dimension to human interaction had arrived. An old companion, one I had thought was long dead—friendship.

And with friendship, I had something else, too. The enviable position of being able to redo my school years, this time with minimal harassment and no bullying whatsoever.

Every time my mind brushed upon the concept, I felt a stab of self-consciousness. I refused to see this as the gift that it was. I was too old, after all. Thirty-three, counting both lifetimes. I had no business feeling at home with a group of fifteen-year-olds.

I heard a knock at my door. I sensed Shoko on the other side of the room.

I was still deeply in the throes of contemplation, but I supposed I could let her in. As I already had, many times before.

My best friend. A child.

I cracked a grin.

There was nothing wrong with being friends with a child, friends with your student. Any teacher should strive to cultivate a trusting relationship.

Still, I couldn’t delude myself. My relationship with Shoko was also quite infantile, and thus inappropriate. I was friends with her the way a fifteen-year-old was friends with another fifteen-year-old. I was also a bad influence on her.

Not anymore, of course. I had already made a decision over the span of the summer to limit my ill influence.

I could also take solace in the fact that none of this had been my choice—joining Jujutsu High, that is. I had simply adapted to the environment. The same way I had adapted to deal with the world of adults, I had done the same with the world of children. I wasn’t a creep or a freak. Neither did my conscience really accuse me of such.

This made it doubly puzzling that those accusations—

Shoko knocked again.

I had thought of letting her in to the point that I had all but assumed that I already had. What a strange thing, the imagination was.

I remembered my own body, then. On the bed. Lying still. Wearing my new uniform. No more golden haori and dark blue kosode. Now, I wore a plain dark blue kimono with no patterns, a white obi wrapped around my waist, and a pair of wooden clogs.

My dark orbs were peering emptily into space. Sight did not figure into the confusion of what the world had become. Only hearing, and touch. Space had twisted. IT was dancing. Becoming nonsensical.

“Teira?!” Shoko shouted outside the door.

Right, of course. The friend on the other side of the door.

“Come in,” I said.

As she opened the door, revealing herself wearing a similar style to last semester, I sat upright and swung my body so that my feet were outside the bed, right above the floor.

Shoko felt unaccountably real to me, in a way that nothing else was. It was strange how glaringly, utterly, overwhelmingly real she was. Every micromovement, every thing about her. All of this repeated endlessly throughout the cosmos in various different scales akin to a fractal, but in the here, in the now?

It was incredible to behold.

“Were you sleeping?” Shoko asked. “That’s odd. I’ve never seen you sleep in my life.”

Even now, what little sleep I required, I stole hours away in Michiko’s Timeless Sanctuary such that what little time passed in the real world was unsubstantial. Since the day I had become clan head, I had never known a singular hour of rest—except the one that Toji had forced me into by way of ripping my heart out of my chest.

I was a busy bee, indeed.

“No,” I said, getting up.

Then I walked up to Shoko, who was looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

I pinched her cheek.

She slapped my hand away. “Are you crazy?” she asked, eyes wide.

Her skin felt so… repetitive, to my senses. Like I had felt it all before. On the ground. In the air. Like a sword through my throat, or a Hollow Purple blasting away half my body.

Was this really all there was to it? Just one thing in infinite permutations?

‘Are you crazy?’ she had asked me.

A failure to operate coherently. Though the world I had retreated to made endless sense, I still had to be wary to attend to the real world in a satisfactory manner.

“No,” I said.

Shoko’s skin was a vast desert of pores and hairs that vibrated almost imperceptibly with each beating of her heart. She was a universe unto itself.

“Did you drink?” She wrinkled her nose at me. “Let me have some.”

“No, I stopped drinking,” I said.

Then I lied down on my back, right in the middle of the floor. My upright position felt limiting to me, like it was less true compared to a supine position. Truth had become so much more appealing to me.

“I stopped smoking as well,” I continued. “I’ve disavowed everything that connects me to the old guard. One too many occasions spent drinking Naobito under the table has disillusioned me strongly regarding alcohol.”

“Teira, you must be on something.”

“It’s called Lysergic Acid Diethlamyde,” I said. “Most know it as LSD.”

“Huh?!” Shoko gaped at me. “What the hell is that?”

“My consciousness has expanded,” I said simply. “I suspect that I might become a new person even after all of this is said and done. A more balanced and happier person. Failing that, I will simply remain aware of how it all ties together. I suppose that, too, will be a comfort.”

“Class is in thirty minutes, Teira. I don’t know if you understand this, but you’re completely sauced.”

“I’m not sauced,” I said as I fought the urge to remain supine. The climb to verticality was long and treacherous, but I managed it. “I dosed up two hours ago, but I didn’t expect the effects to still be so potent. In any case, I strongly recommend that you quit drinking and smoking as well.”

I was saying the word ‘recommend’, but I was pretty sure that I would be stopping her altogether. Her first tantrum at my stealing her cigarettes had fooled me into thinking that I should respect her self-destructive choices, even when those choices were not actually self-destructive. Still, she was an upperclassman to many students. Her actions would set a destructive example.

“…How are you feeling?” Shoko asked me.

“I was told that euphoria was in the books,” I said. “Rather than that, I feel mostly an uninterrupted sense of awe at anything that catches my attention. And a greater sense of… inspiration. I want to train and see if I figure something new out.”

“Can I have some?”

“The universe is speaking to me,” I said, grinning slightly. “Ah. Sorry. It said no.”

As fun as this experience was, drugs were drugs. It would be foolish of me to ascribe to them a purpose beyond just recreational use.

“You’re such a damn weirdo. I hope you know that.”

I lied down again.

“Get up!”

Using Arthropodal Aspect, I grew legs out of my head, on my back, and on my feet—three pairs all in all. This really was an unbeatable position. I couldn’t sacrifice it for the sake of appearing normal.

I hummed. The sound of the humming sent vibrations through my body, all the way down to the tips of my toes and the edges of my kimono.

“Are you ready for the prelims?” I asked Shoko.

“No,” she said frankly. “I’m telling you—our training has hit a dead end. It was nice at the start when I could build muscle quickly using my Reverse Cursed Technique. Using it to refresh my Cursed Energy Manipulation was a godsend as well, but let’s face it: I’m not Ito. Fundamentals are all I have, and I still couldn’t do Jack against the likes of Nakamura or Ishikawa. Now, I’ll be competing against upperclassmen, too?”

“The drugs have given me excellent foresight,” I said, stretching my senses languidly, letting them touch and smother each person in Jujutsu High to an almost invasive degree. “Such pretty people,” I muttered. “And vast. All of them. Infinity.”

Gojo and Suguru were no-brainers. Both of them were playing Pokemon in a random garden in school. Ito was busy mastering her Simple Domain. Nakamura was lifting weights. Ishikawa was with Aomori Sakura, looking through sketches of monsters from tabletop roleplaying games. Takahashi and Suzuki were sparring roughly, the former actually holding her own despite the latter’s combo cursed technique.

Kobayashi was surrounded by an unkindness of shikigami ravens. He was the sole person in our class that had taken to truly incorporating shikigami use in his fighting style. He had yet to accept Maiden’s Heart, but I had yet to give up on that idea, either.

And Satoshi Ren was in a pit full of cursed spirits, fighting for his life while Mukai Reiko occasionally came in to check on him.

He had been in that pit for the better part of two months, just barely eking out his own survival and subsisting off of what food Mukai-senpai brought to him.

The airhead had finally managed to wrap his head around his innate technique.

Shoko stared at my supine form for several long seconds. “And?!” she finally asked.

She had nothing to worry about.

By the time all was said and done, none of our classmates had anything to worry about.

I smiled. The gesture felt alien to my face. None of the pain and suffering of my past weighed on the expression at all. I wasn’t a stranger to grinning, but this smile was something I had forgotten my face could even do.

“We’re good, Shoko.”

I crawled past Shoko, into the hallway, feet first. Shoko hurried to follow me.

000

Sitting still on a chair behind a desk in neat rows with others who sat in the same way, waiting for the teacher to arrive and for the class reps to guide the topic, was… oppression.

Thoughts of oppression grew like weeds in my mind whenever my attention brushed upon the many norms of academia. The sitting still and listening quietly. The restriction on speech.

The uniforms.

These weeds twisted like hanging vines, spreading deeper into other aspects of my life: particularly my rule.

I oppressed, too.

It was for the sake of order.

Would there ever be an end to the oppression?

I pictured that the end to the oppression would come once a generation of people were mature enough to decide things for themselves. Like children becoming adults, only that my criteria of adulthood was far stricter than nature’s.

Most people were children, whether young or old.

Most people were asleep. Living on instinct. Living off a precious pool of instructions, like adhering to society’s laws and regulations.

This wasn’t enough to be an adult in my eyes. I would end my oppression once I was satisfied with my people’s growth.

I worried that this day would never come.

The world was cyclical, the universe fractal. This phenomenon reoccurred in both Western and Eastern adages—the apple not falling far from the tree, and the tiger father not begetting a sparrow son.

Those raised in oppression might imagine it easier to continue the oppression. To do what I did, even in cases where there was no need for such heavyhanded measures. At times, I felt like the only thinking being in the universe. The only person allowed to make decisions. Everyone else were wont to hurt themselves in their confusion. Like infants playing with knives.

I had to ease up on the iron fist in the coming years to prevent my style of rule from becoming tradition.

I had to encourage wakefulness rather than blind obedience.

Blue eyes inches away from black acrylic orbs.

The blue eyes blinked first.

“You good, Teira?” Gojo Satoru asked me.

I hadn’t seen Gojo in two weeks since Obon. Before then, it had been almost two months since we had last seen one another. Gojo had apparently taken to the summer holiday with the enthusiasm of any child his age. He and Suguru had gone to Okinawa, trekked through the mountains of the interior country, and then did a road trip through Japan, using his clan as a chauffeur.

During the summer, I had mostly been with Shoko, just hanging. No special plans or occasions apart from Obon. She had taken the initiative, dragging me around to go shopping for clothes for a summer festival in Tokyo where we ate ourselves sick with snacks and played games all day.

It was a good summer. I had made memories that anyone in my position would treasure. Yet, I found it easier to distance myself from the good times, emotionally, for fear of an uncertain future.

Gojo had asked me if I was good.

Was I good? I rolled the question around in my mouth, tasting it. I liked it.

“I like that question,” I said. “We should all ponder as much.”

“Shoko was right,” Gojo grinned. “You are not on this planet anymore. I gotta ask, Teira—as a concerned friend. Aren’t you worried you’ll one day go too far and burn away what little charm you have left in your brain?”

“Would that make much of a difference in your case?” I asked.

“I find you plenty charming!” Gojo said. “The way you go above and beyond for my sake? Trust me, I’m always flattered by your attention to detail. So I’m worried I’ll lose out on that to your rampant substance abuse.”

I reached for his face.

The classroom held its breath at the sight. Everyone was present. And everyone remembered the last time I had tried to make contact with Gojo.

Infinity parted seamlessly, allowing me to trace a path on his forehead with my fingers, feeling the vastness of his skin. I brushed his hair slightly, near his hairline. Infinite detail. Beautiful.

From the very depths of my heart, somewhere deep and buried, an impulse drove me to try and gain more purchase on his hair, for reasons that I didn’t understand.

The moment I tried, his hair became infinitely slick.

Infinitely distant. My hand hovered away slowly but surely, Infinity returning to protect Gojo Satoru from what I now understood as my constant, subliminal instinct to harm him.

“I’m genuinely impressed,” Gojo said. “And slightly worried.”

I eased through his Infinity once more and brushed his hair gently. “Your concern is noted.”

Then I leaned back on my chair and sighed. “But I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and this is really the closest thing I get to a vacation, believe it or not.”

Gojo wrinkled his brow. “Ah, don’t make me feel bad for you. That’s not how this thing of ours works.”

“I’m just telling you the reason I am what I am,” I said.

Shoko stepped in front of Gojo, separating us. “That’s enough of that,” she said. “I’m putting my foot down.”

“We were getting along,” I said.

“Like a cat playing with a mouse,” Shoko said.

“I’m definitely the cat,” Gojo said. Yet, his mouse-like vibes were unmistakable for anyone to see. I barely had to say anything, really. It was as self-evident as the universe itself.

Yaga was approaching.

All hard edges, brick for muscles. A big and square man. He exuded an aura of rock-like stability and a subtle strength that no one else in the room possessed, not even myself.

Not combat power, but something else, something subtler. I found that I enjoyed this aura, as much as one enjoyed being on a boat as opposed to being in the open ocean. I, myself, had nothing to fear from the ocean, but it was nice to not have to swim all the time.

He barged through the door, briefcase in hand, and gave us all a nod. “You’re all here. Good. Gojo, take a seat. Now, everyone, welcome back. I hope summer treated you all well. As I’ve said before, you should be additionally grateful for these holidays as from the second year and onward, you will be expected to work during them.” Some students groaned. “Let’s get down to business: the Exchange Event. The event is open for everyone from the first to the third years of Jujutsu High. Typically, first-years don’t get a slot, but not because of seniority. Slots are based on merit, and your entrance is decided in a preliminary exam held at the end of the first day of the second semester. That is, today.”

Yaga-sensei turned around and began scribbling on the blackboard. ‘SLOTS’ and then ‘15’.

“There are fifteen open slots open for sixty-three students. Not everyone will compete for a slot, but those at Grade 2 and Semi-Grade 2 are sure to compete for one. If you fail to attain a spot, then tough luck. You still have two more chances, and your chances will only go up as you age, so the chance to gain a slot at the third year is guaranteed if you exist at the top half of your current year.”

I pictured all the current third-years that had heard this speech in their first-year. They must have held out some hope that they were now practically guaranteed a slot. Tragic, really.

“The point of the Exchange Event is to have your grade confirmed by Jujutsu Society, and perhaps even upgraded, given how well you’ve performed. This is your chance to do away with the ‘provisional’ qualifier of your rank.”

It was darkly comedic to me that Jujutsu Society made the act of attaining a higher grade something so integral to the culture. Strength gave one sway and influence in politics, but it also put you in harm’s way when dealing with Cursed Spirits of a higher grade.

The only sorcerer I had met thus far that genuinely wanted to be underrated was Shoko. Everyone else, no matter how middling, no matter how strong, took so much delight in their rank. Even me.

I would, of course, have preferred that Gojo was at Class 2 with myself, or that we were both at 3, but otherwise, I couldn’t complain.

We were like lemmings lining up to jump off a cliff. It was silly, the things society compelled us into.

“I’d normally tell you to hold your horses and not to get worked up over losing,” Yaga continued. “But in the time I’ve gotten to know you misfits, I’ve learned that logic is not in your wheelhouse. So, to you all, I say from the bottom of my heart: good luck. You have the day to prepare. Class reps, take the room.” Then, he left.

One would almost consider him derelict in his duties for letting the rest of us flounder to such an extent, but I knew better. I knew that Yaga knew that we were all following paths that required little beyond our own personal efforts. We were all at that stage now. He’d give us additional guidance when the time came, but right now, the best thing he could do for us was to step aside.

Kobayashi and Shoko stood up to walk to the front of the class. Kobayashi cleared his throat—

—only for Satoshi to interrupt him instantly. “I’m not doing no group tactics. You guys can flounder on your own, but I’m taking a spot.”

Nakamura laughed, throwing Satoshi a high-five. Satoshi ignored the hand, and Nakamura smacked him for the impudence, triggering a brief scuffle.

Kobayashi looked beyond unimpressed. “I was about to offer cooperation to those in need. I, myself, have a plan to attain a slot. I’m sure Ieiri-san does as well.”

Shoko was doing her best not to burst into laughter, clearly. “And to give a run-down on how the preliminary exam works. It is, in fact, stupidly simple. All of us enter a field, and fight until only fifteen are left standing.” She shrugged. “That’s really just it. Traditionally, people from the same school year don’t target each other—“

“Anyone that gets in my way,” Satoshi began, only for Kobayashi to interrupt him.

“Satoshi, I will eliminate you myself if you sabotage any of us,” Kobayashi said. “This, I swear. Do not test me, troglodyte.”

“Nye nye nye nye nye.”

Gojo raised a hand lazily. “I won’t fight for any of you weaklings, so don’t rely on me.”

I expected that neither Suguru nor I would have any comers as well. Sad, but ultimately, it made perfect sense.

I raised my hand. “I’m placing a bounty on you, Shoko. A hundred thousand to eliminate you. Anyone in this class could cash that bounty in as well.”

Shoko gaped. “Teira, that’s—“

“Fricking hilarious!” Gojo laughed. “With friends like her, who needs enemies, am I right?”

Suguru chuckled. “I could use a hundred grand.” Shoko paled at what Suguru said. Suguru just laughed. “I’m just kidding.”

“Why would you need more money when you’re already mooching off of Gojo?!” Shoko shouted.

“Exactly,” Suguru said.

“That wasn’t funny!”

“I beg to differ!” Gojo replied hotly. “It’s always hilarious seeing your usual nonchalant attitude melt into terror! You get way too big for your britches just cuz your bestie is freaking terrifying!”

Ito turned to Takahashi and Suzuki, who were seated to each side of her. “We can fight together,” she offered.

Suzuki looked at her desk in consternation, rolling her red hair with her finger. “About that…”

Takahashi sighed. “I want to fight alone.”

“Me too,” Suzuki said.

“Oh,” Ito nodded. “Sure! Good luck, you too!”

A weight seemed to lift from the two girls, who seemed to have worried about how she would take this ‘rejection’. Clearly, it meant nothing to her. Friendship and measuring oneself were two different things.

Aomori didn’t seem worried at all. Her first-semester showing had been rather abysmal, but clearly, she had something up her sleeve to give her the boundless confidence necessary to read a pulpy light novel in class rather than pay attention.

In the end, it looked like each and every one of us had plans to fight alone.

Or, not really at all, in the case of us Special Grades.

Me? I’d just let the universe fall into place around me. The outcome of today was already decided. Now, I just had to let time drag me inexorably towards its conclusion.