Chapter 36

  “Yaga will be back in five minutes,” I announced to the class. Then I turned to the girls. “In that time, we should at least have decided among ourselves who should be the class rep. Right now, it’s looking like it’s between Takahashi and Aomori.”

  The chubby-cheeked girl with her hair held up in a clumsy bun near her forehead looked stunned. “Ah—I only said that I ought to be the class rep because I believe I’m the best candidate for the job. Not that I want to be the class rep. I think that would take time away from other activities.”

  “I swear to god, I’ll kick your ass,” Suzuki growled.

  Aomori looked down sullenly. “It’s your fault for not understanding what I was saying.”

  Shoko spoke up, “Okay, but you were the one who nominated yourself as the ideal candidate. That kind of implies that you wanted the role.”

  “Maybe we should just vote her in,” Suzuki growled, fists balled. “Since she thinks she’s too good for the role.”

  “I think I’m just fine for the role,” Aomori said. “Not too good. I just don’t want—“

  “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

  Takahashi cleared her throat. “Let’s be kind to one another, Suzuki.”

  The redheaded girl’s anger fizzled down.

  “Alright,” Takahashi continued. “Aomori, if you’re turning the role down, then I want it. If you have nothing to say about that—“

  “I don’t think becoming a class rep is good for your mental health,” Aomori said. “You give me the impression of someone who cares far too much about what other people think of you. Becoming class rep would make you the receptacle of everyone else’s grievances. Can you handle that?”

  Takahashi grunted in distaste. “You’re too blunt for your own good.”

  Shoko sighed. “You know, Aomori, you have a lot to say for someone who doesn’t want the responsibility, either.”

  “My own shortcomings shouldn’t preclude me from pointing out the shortcomings of others.”

  “Usually it should,” Shoko replied. “That’s just basic social rules, don’t you think?"

  "Silly rules," then she sighed. "But rules nonetheless. I understand. My apologies for the miscommunication." She seemed sincere as she said that.

  Shoko groaned. "Ah, screw it. I’ll throw my own hat in, because I kind of like your style, Aomori, and I think you wouldn’t find me to be a bad candidate.”

  I put a hand on my forehead to forestall my irritation at these lengthy proceedings. “Two minutes until Yaga is here.”

  “You’re kidding,” Suzuki scowled at Shoko.

  “Is it really that important to you?” Takahashi asked hotly.

  “Well, it’s important to you, and Aomori is right that it shouldn’t be,” Shoko said. “It’s not important to me at all, which is why I think I might do a halfway good job. Besides, if it’s position that you want, I’m sure you could make it big in the Union. And that’s an organization that actually matters.”

  “Presumably,” Aomori began, raising her finger. “Jujutsu High’s student council would be in a position to make life-or-death decisions for its students. That’s the major reason why I don’t want the responsibility. Because in Jujutsu High, we are expected to risk our lives.”

  “A-ah,” Takahashi looked stunned. “I… that slipped my mind…”

  “Therefore,” Aomori said to Shoko, “if the weight of that responsibility doesn’t bother you—“

  “It’s tought, but I think I’ve got it,” Shoko said. Yes!

  I turned to Shoko with a big smile. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve shed your unsightly weak-sauce mentality and are now finally thinking like a true sorcerer!” I hugged her.

  “You’re awful,” Shoko muttered.

  “And you’re just finally waking up!”

  Yaga-sensei kicked the door opened and howled. “What in the mother of God has happened here?!”

  90% of the class pointed at the hapless Gojo.

  Satoshi finally gained consciousness then.

  000

  Gojo did actually fight the accusation. Yaga flat-out refused to believe him. Much fun was had.

  Eventually, the club fair rolled up.

  Some upperclassmen immediately began to infest the hallways, essentially threatening to kidnap the boys in our class and pressgang them into their clubs. They had very little to work with, since our classroom size was abnormally small.

  As for the girls…

  “I wanna join an art club,” Aomori groused.

  I had dragged her and the rest of the girls with me as we ascended the building’s stairs, on our way to our newfly formed shadow organization.

  “You think you’re even better than the Women’s Union, don’t you?” Suzuki scoffed.

  “The women’s what now?”

  I grinned. “She wasn’t there for my speech.”

  “What speech?”

  “You can join an art club, too,” I said. “The clubs are divided into three separate categories. All students are required to join at least one of each club to satisfy the requirements of graduating. One of Yaga-sensei’s ideas, to make us into well-rounded students who can choose not to become sorcerers should we change our minds about our paths.” Or in case we never wanted it in the first place, and only joined the academy to be with people like us. After all, being a sorcerer shouldn’t prevent someone from wanting to do literally anything else. “Anyway, the Union is a Service club. An art club would fall under Creativity. And a sport’s club would be Athletics.”

  “Three clubs?” Suzuki scoffed. “What a pain.”

  “How do you know this?” Takahashi asked me.

  “Read it in the syllabus. Yaga-sensei would have gotten into it if he hadn’t been too busy reaming Gojo out for his irresponsible behavior and property damage.”

  “When will he learn?” Shoko asked. I giggled at that.

  We finally reached the right floor and proceeded on to the room, an auditorium rather than a classroom.

  All the girls of the Tachibana house were inside. That meant every girl from years one to four. Including us, that made fifty-two people.

  All but one was seated, and that was Mukai Reiko.

  While many girls chose the sailor uniform customization, Mukai went a step further. The best way to describe it would be admiral uniform. She had a double-breasted dark blue navy jacket with golden epaulettes, black gloves, and a dark blue skirt. Her boots were steel-toed and knee-length, and topping it all of, she wore the hat of an army officer, under which her gray pony-tail peeked out at the back.

  A lot of the girls emulated this style as well, a style I could only describe as ‘fascist military chic’. They were an intimidating bunch to be sure. That was good.

  Those types were more outnumbered by the girls that had chosen more aesthetic uniform modifications, akin to Takahashi’s sleeveless cheongsam and Kamo Sachi’s kimono. The rest wore the modernized standard issue, similar to Shoko’s uniform.

  “Good, you’re here,” Mukai nodded at us. “Take a seat and let’s quickly get started. Except for you, Hibana-san. Stand next to me and reiterate the purpose and goals of the Jujutsu Women’s Union. You’ll take a round of questions, and then we’ll have a group discussion on the subject. Also, Hibana-san mentioned this yesterday, and I’d like to reiterate it in case anyone was not present for that conversation: before the Women’s Union is approved by the administration as a valid club, we do not talk about it.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  My classmates took their seats around the very back of the hall while I stood next to Mukai and thanked her with a nod. “Very well, I’ll do my best to describe what I’m going for.”

  I began by explaining to them the main problems facing women in the world of Jujutsu—at worst, a lack of human rights, and at best, a lack of gravity and respect. We weren’t being taught to the best of the abilities of our teachers. We were expected to maintain image equally to our power. We had no representation in the leadership of Jujutsu Society.

  I emphasized that last point. With the sole exception of myself, there were no clan leaders or councilmembers in Jujutsu Society that were female. There were female elders in some clans, but those were the ones that had fallen on rough times and were scraping the bottom of the barrel. Women in leadership was a sign of hard times.

  I wanted to change that. And it would start with this.

  “Individually, we are weak,” I said. “Well, most of us.” Some of the girls giggled at that joke. “Together, however, our voices unite in magnitude. We are one half of Jujutsu Society. One half. If we are of one mind in all the most major issues, we will automatically have a plurality in votes. I can tell you right now that the boys are utterly fragmented. They can’t go five seconds without beating each other to a pulp. They’re individualistic to a fault. We can exploit that by simply being united, and reaching out to them for support as well. At least, the ones willing to swallow their prides and listen. It’s easy to fall into the mentality that we should treat all men like enemies. I, myself, have wrestled with that problem for much of my life, owing to the pain that men in power have caused me. But those were men. Not boys: children, like us, still growing and making sense of the world. We can reach them. And the more we reach, the more outnumbered our true enemies become. Those for which no words can change their minds. Those that cannot be convinced—only overcome. All of this is to say: we must build our fences high, but we must also dot them with many gates.”

  I paused for a moment, satisfied with my words. “Any questions?”

  000

  As far as my club selection went, I wasn’t all that excited about either. I had picked the karate club, which was captained by none other than Mukai. It was a unisex club, but for some reason, the guys had preferred to make a separate boy’s karate club.

  Ostensibly, it was to escape Mukai’s wrath which was… something. Really, if it hadn’t been for this crop of first-years, she would have been an invincible figure in this school.

  I could learn a thing or two in the karate club, firm up some of my lacking fundamentals in martial arts—seven years of being in a pot hadn’t done my skills any favors, even if my coordination and physical strength was preternatural.

  Then there was the music club. It was more like a music discussion club. There was a club for traditional Japanese music—an immensely wide umbrella to be sure—but the music club was far less traditional. Far more my speed.

  Thankfully, the day—one giant club fair—ended without much additional drama.

  Since we’d already done our club attendance for the day, we now had the entire afternoon to ourselves. Gojo had insisted that our little group head to the basketball court to play a quick game.

  “Alright!” Gojo grinned. “Shoko and I versus Suguru and You!”

  “You’re being offensive, Satoru,” Geto frowned. “Do you really think you could beat the both of us? Just you?”

  “Course not!” Satoru grabbed Shoko by both her shoulders and shook her like she was a toy. “Class rep-chan is on my side!”

  “I feel slighted,” Shoko murmured.

  “Hmmm,” I pinched my chin. “Excellent idea, Gojo. But before we get into it, why don’t you give me one good reason why I should even bother?”

  “A favor for a favor!” Gojo replied, beaming brightly. “And what I want is to know one thing: how the hell do you use so many Black Flashes?”

  I chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “What’s a Black Flash?” Geto asked.

  I punched him.

  On the meaty part of his arm. Quite softly. Still, during our point of contact, my cursed energy ignited like a flash of black lightning. He stumbled backwards and yelled. “Ow! What was that?! What the hell was that?!”

  “A Black Flash.”

  “Impossible,” Gojo grinned so widely that his lips almost threatened to split. “That is literally not possible! No one in the history of—impossible!”

  “I didn’t quite catch that,” Shoko said, grinning. “Why don’t you demonstrate it again?”

  “What?! No!” Geto shouted.

  I nailed her in her stomach. Black Flash.

  She stumbled backwards, gasping for a breath that wouldn’t come. “Reverse Cursed Technique training, Shoko. Don’t forget that we have quite a bit of work ahead of us.”

  Shoko, for her part, managed to concentrate past the pain to heal her body. All she was doing was calming down the nerve in her solar plexus that was refusing to allow her ribcage to contract and expand after I had struck it. And, of course, whatever minor bruising might have formed from the bit of contact. Nothing big, however.

  Shoko straightened and groaned. “I deserved that. Sorry, Geto.”

  “You can apologize by being a less awful person—all of you!”

  All of us bowed to Geto in apology.

  “Although,” Gojo rubbed the back of his head after standing straight, “I don’t know why I’m getting mixed into this. I didn’t do or say anything to you, my man! Maybe you should be nicer to me, too?” he pouted. “I mean, you were complicit in a most heinous framejob implicating myself in a crime I never even committed!”

  “Eh,” Shoko waved her hand. “What’s a few crimes between friends?”

  Geto’s eyes widened, and he let his head drop low. “You’re right. I’m… no better than any of you… after all.”

  “Er, that’s not—“ Gojo said, but Geto interrupted him.

  “Perhaps this is what I deserve after the sins I must have committed in a past life.”

  Shoko moaned. “Hey! Now I feel bad! About how I am. As a person.”

  “I don’t,” I snorted.

  “Have a heart, Teira!” Gojo snapped. “Look at the poor boy! You need to take responsibility for punching him! By telling us how you use the Black Flash so effortlessly!”

  “Seriously,” Shoko said. “What is the Black Flash?”

  I punched her again. This time in the arm. This time, hard enough to blow her off her feet, but of course, not hard enough to truly injure her. Just bruise her. More training for her.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

  Gojo and I laughed together. He raised his hand up in a high-five and I struck it.

  Black Flash.

  This impact was actually substantial. It blew him backwards, off his feet, leaving me to be the only one to laugh.

  Except that Shoko had already recovered, and was laughing with me.

  “Okay, stop,” Geto said. “Explain it seriously. What is—?” I pulled my fist back. “No. Teira. Stop it.”

  I pouted. “But it’s funny!”

  Case in point, Gojo was on the floor, still laughing. His broken hand had already healed over.

  Wait just a moment. His Infinity specifically stopped all harmful strikes from hitting him.

  Did he… let that one slide, for the joke?

  That did really warm my heart.

  “I’m serious,” Geto said.

  “I’m serious,” I scrounched up my face and imitated him. He didn’t grace that with a response. “Fine, the Black Flash is essentially the apotheosis of Cursed Energy Manipulation. It’s a phenomenon that basically allows your strike to magnify in power, as long as you strike exactly when the time is right.”

  Gojo stood up immediately. “Within a millionth of a second!”

  I shrugged. “Well, that’s… a gross simplification,” I said. “Now, listen. I’ll only explain this because, while I do enjoy tormenting Gojo to the best of my abilities, I do ardently wish for you two, the weakling half of our posse, to not get ripped apart by cursed spirits on our first mission. Hmmm… actually. Gojo, go away while I explain it to them.”

  “What?! No way! Listen! One on one. If I beat you, I get to listen in as well!”

  I snorted. “Alright then. And if I win, you’ll have to wear a girl’s uniform sized to your specifications for the next month.”

  “Deal!”

  The hell was his game?

  “Swear a binding vow on it,” I scoffed.

  “Alright, I swear a binding vow to agree to those conditions should you win.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “One more condition: you don’t damage the court.”

  “Neither of us does any damage.”

  I held my hand out to him. He clasped it.

  Game on.

  000

  In a rare occasion, Hibana Teira had chosen to take off her traditional attire to instead wear something decidedly more modern—a black sport’s bra and black spandex shorts, contrasting drastically against her sheet white skin. She also wore gym shoes.

  Shoko was, quite frankly, enthused by the change in style, and being treated to a closer view of her physique. There was something decidedly powerful about a girl who looked like that, choosing to instead dress up like an eleventh-century concubine. She had the body of a star athlete.

  It almost made Shoko resentful, that she chose to cover it all up for no apparent reason.

  Shoko sat next to Suguru on the bleachers, watching as Satoru dribbled the basketball effortlessly. He hadn’t changed out of his uniform. That was how confident he was.

  Soon, he’d have to switch them for a dress. Shoko looked forward to that moment.

  “I hope it’s not too personal,” Satoru called out. “But I’ve been meaning to ask: the heck happened to your throat? And your chest for that matter?”

  “Idiot,” Suguru muttered softly.

  Even Shoko felt a flare of outrage.

  “So you see: a gambling addict without cursed energy tried to kill me for a quick score,” she said. “In return, I gave him some gainful employment.”

  “Merciful of you,” Satoru quipped.

  “You know, he really captured my heart,” she said. “I paid it back, of course, by growing a new one and raining holy hellfire on his miserable self.”

  “You’re… losing me.”

  “Then how about this for a change, you dumb ape: don’t comment on women’s bodies.”

  “Don’t kid yourself: you’re a cryptid of some kind. Matter of fact—how in the world are you even like this? All pale and weird?”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  Shoko sighed. “I really hate him.” Then she remembered the punches. “Actually, both of them. I hate them both.”

  “As do I,” Suguru said quietly. Then he cracked a grin. “Maybe that’s the human in me… waiting to be shed.”

  Shoko raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Human in you?”

  “I suppose I mean non-sorcerer,” Suguru said. “I’ve been… active as a sorcerer for a few years now. I’ve had my power for as long as I can remember, though. Almost half of that time was me rebelling against fate, wanting desperately to be a non-sorcerer. Coming here, however…? I’ve had the best time of my life, Ieiri.”

  “Call me Shoko,” she grinned. “And… glad to hear it.”

  “It’s just… I thought I was weird.”

  Shoko laughed at that. “You’ve got a long way to go, comrade.”

  “Boy, do I really,” Suguru snickered. “Those punches still hurt. And I’m pretty sure she held back, since I didn’t fly off my feet.”

  “Oh, she definitely did,” Shoko chuckled. She then put a hand over Suguru’s wounded arm. “Hold still. I’ll give you my patented never-before-seen, super-special healing beam.”

  “I forgot you had that,” Suguru said. “It’s about time. You leaving me suffering like this, you truly are no better than Teira. Or Satoru.”

  “I changed my mind,” she said as she drew back her hand.

  “What?! No! Isn’t this like, your sworn duty as a doctor?”

  Shoko scoffed. “You’ve got me confused with a real doctor.”

  “You’re awful.”

  Shoko grinned, shoving Suguru playfully. “You know, you’re quite awful, too.”

  “Huh?”

  “You call non-sorcerers human, like that makes you something beyond human. You carry this sense of superiority around, just like Gojo does. Worse yet, you think you’re better than the rest of us, morally.”

  “I won’t budge on that last point,” Suguru replied, crossing his arms. “I know I’m better than any of you three. By a thousand miles, even.”

  Shoko giggled. “Well, in my experience, I’ve found that good people rarely do anything good, for fear of doing wrong.”

  Suguru raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Alright!” Teira cried. “I’m seriously tired of listening to you spout off about nonsense. I truly am. Let’s begin this match. The sooner I see you in that dress, the better.”

  normal people like Shoko who is wearing her canon uniform.

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