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Shoko didn’t bother giving respect to people who didn’t deserve it.
She grew up alone for the majority of her childhood. Her parents were never home, and the house, unreasonably spacious for a little girl, echoed with the sound of her voice reverberating through empty corridors and distant rooms. Her footsteps were a muffled patter against the wooden floors and, no matter how much the heating was on, were always cold. Her wardrobe was monotonous like her schedule. It was the same every day until she decided it wasn’t.
Her house was no longer empty as lively creatures began to peek out, their curiosity evident in their small and unsightly forms. They were snoopy, little, and honestly quite ugly. Their multiple eyes synchronized with each blink of hers, and their breaths followed the rhythm of her own.
“I created them.” Shoko had realized all those years ago.
It was her first experience with Curses. Surprisingly, they didn’t seem to want to harm her. The shy creatures preferred to lurk behind walls, in corners, and within the shadows. Whenever she approached, driven by her curiosity, they would vanish. Yet, she couldn't help but find their behaviour amusing.
Her parents remained absent, and she subconsciously stopped calling them Mom and Dad. The house became emptier as she packed all her belongings, cramming them in a suitcase as Curses observed her from closets and behind doors. The chittering of teeth and the slimy substance Curses naturally had taken over her hearing, drowning out the sound of her suitcase as it thumped down the lengthy staircase. Her boots thudded against the wooden floor as she flung the door open and slammed it shut, leaving her key on the table.
Her parents made no attempt to call her and ask where she was, and she, in turn, felt no inclination to care. Respect was undeserved on their part.
Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College was new, but it was home immediately. It wasn’t too empty, and there was always someone with her. She made friends. She helped lonely people. And soon enough, she could no longer make Curses. She could heal. She had a family.
At 18, she was confident in her decision to avoid the house she was never able to call home. A small, unpleasant part of her hoped that the Curses she had created long ago had done some form of revenge on those who had made her childhood so lonely. But she refrained from checking. They didn’t deserve that level of respect. The sorcerer world was awful, but it was something she could call hers.
She loved the students who came and went. Despite her initial hate of the idea of teaching, she hated the idea of leaving her friends more. But, with love for her students and friends came an equal measure of hate for those who mistreated and disrespected them. The enemy of my friend is my enemy, or however the old saying goes.
And so with that blatant disregard of respect, a cigarette smouldered between her lips gently. Her index and middle fingers held it close, enabling each inhale that left an itch in her throat and a stench on her clothes on the exhale. She hoped that the meeting with the Higher-Ups would be tainted with the lingering scent of her disrespect. As she strode on the cement floor, the click of her heels resonated, and her doctor's robe trailed behind her. As she let her cigarette-laden hand fall away, the purple stain of her lipstick left on the white paper made her smile.
She was quite surprised to have been requested a hearing with the Higher-Ups. Typically, requests were directed to Satoru and Suguru, the ‘Strongest Duo’, for assistance with missions or updates on school matters (particularly, the status of Yuuji Itadori's execution). On a day they returned from a meeting, they informed her about the unusual request to meet with her and at the Headquarters, no less. Satoru had warped her there, saying the location of where they resided was to be kept secret, and she couldn’t know. She simply shrugged, grabbed a box of cigarettes, and lit one with the purple lighter Suguru had gifted her a few weeks prior.
She wasn’t sure what the old bastards wanted from her, but considering the little she knew, she wouldn’t like it. Descriptions from her friends portrayed them as conservative and wrinkly. That was the first time she was confident Satoru wasn’t exaggerating about something.
Eventually, she came across large, dark mahogany double doors. Their dark mahogany surface was adorned with two gold-plated doorknobs side-by-side. Suppressing a laugh, she couldn't help but picture Suguru and Satoru organizing how they’d open the door at the same time, just for a dramatic flair.
The cigarette in her hand continued to burn, reminding her of its presence. She took another inhale. The hall remained silent, but she was unable to hear anyone on the other side of the door. Sighing, she wrapped her free hand around a doorknob and turned.
The room was in near darkness, brightened only by the few candles which were positioned behind the worn boards and a lantern casting shadows above. The state of the cracked cement floor gave the impression of a hideout for poor villains rather than a place of authority. The silhouettes of six old men encircled her. Shoko clicked her tongue, taking another drag as she halted in the center.
A voice behind her spoke up first, “Smoking in the presence of us?” It was such a raspy voice that Shoko had to resist the urge to ask if he had any cigarettes she could bum off him. Instead, she simply shrugged, taking a small hit and exhaling leisurely.
“Well then,” A different voice spoke next, addressing her directly, “Shoko Ieiri. We’ve requested your presence for concern of the safety of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.”
“Alright,” She sighed, her gaze shifting between the two shadowy figures in front of her, “I’m listening.”
“You must understand,” A voice on the right recited. “For the decades we’ve presided over the Jujutsu world, we've successfully anticipated horrors and averted devastations."
“We’ve been observing you for quite some time now, Reverse Cursed user.” The voice on her left spoke. She stifled herself before a laugh could come out. It was comedic how organized they were. Did they have a script or rehearse beforehand?
“That is why we ask you for your assistance.”
“What do you need, oh wise ones?” She quipped, raising her hand to place the cigarette between her lips. She exhaled harshly, the smoke dissipating from between her teeth.
“We did not request your presence here for you to make jokes.” Someone in the back boomed out. Shoko simply sighed, her head bowing down in a display of exasperation, but she remained silent.
Another voice from the front continued, “We’ve noticed your lack of amicability towards the students compared to your… peers.”
Shoko almost shook with the effort to prevent any expression from passing by her face. Lack of amicability? Why, because she didn’t lift and toss the students into the air after successful missions? Because she didn’t give out hugs and kisses as often, or at all, compared to the other two? Because she didn’t express the traditional warmth that was expected of women? Thoughts raced through her mind as she held her composure, fixing a gaze on the speaker's grating voice. The criticism stung a bit, but she knew her role at Jujutsu High involved more than outward displays of affection. The unspoken connection between her and her students may not have been evident to outsiders, but it was a part of her.
“My role at Jujutsu High doesn’t involve getting as attached to the students, unlike Geto or Gojo, who are direct teachers.” She stated plainly, the last names of her best friends leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. But it wasn’t technically a lie. Her responsibilities didn’t require her to be as involved as the other two, but she found herself gravitating towards the students despite it. She couldn’t help it. There was a certain charm to them. But if she were to glean any information about what the Higher-Ups were up to, she’d need to downplay certain aspects regarding her role at Jujutsu High.
“And that,” The voice who scolded her before for making jokes spoke again, “Is why we are asking for your assistance.”
A contemplative expression crossed her face. The ember of the cigarette momentarily flared as she lifted it again. She savoured the inhale, exhaling in a controlled breath, syncing it with a sigh. “And what exactly do you need help with?”
It fell silent for a moment before someone in the front responded, “Yuuji Itadori.”
“Sukuna’s Vessel, yes.” She responded, resisting the urge to grit her teeth together. Her stomach twisted with the growing realization of what they were about to request from her.
“His continued existence poses a danger to society.” The one on the left said slowly, as if he were addressing a child, “As long as he lives and the King of Curses is fed his fingers, he will become more powerful. We cannot allow this to happen.”
“From my understanding,” Shoko interjected with a raised hand, the other moving towards her mouth. The cigarette was nearly halfway done. "Gojo and Geto mentioned that leaving the cursed fingers in the school was risky. It attracts too many Curses. So, as long as Itadori can continue resisting Sukuna, which, to my knowledge, he has, he will consume all 20 fingers and be executed once that is complete."
The mention of Gojo and Geto made them all scowl like disgruntled children, “The overconfidence of those two knows no limit,” Someone remarked, and Shoko, unfortunately, agreed, “Suguru Geto believes he knows better than us. But Satoru Gojo’s threats towards our existence and life will prove null if Sukuna gets to us first.”
Shoko pursed her lips, “I have faith in Itadori. I believe he can control Sukuna until further notice. If there is any issue, I’m sure both Geto and Gojo will handle it accordingly.”
The entire conversation had Shoko’s head reeling with anger. The desire to kick off her heels and be done with the entire charade grew. The six men grumbled at her response. She was getting not only tired but bored of keeping up the facade of a woman who knew little to nothing regarding her students.
“You must attempt to speed up the execution date of Sukuna’s vessel.” Someone in the back urgently declared, his voice carrying an air of insistence. “The safety of not only Jujutsu High, but the world depends on it. Your aid in healing the students would make it easier. You must understand-”
As the smoke from her cigarette billowed, Shoko began to find herself at the center of an empty house, a lone figure against an awful group that wanted to manipulate the future of her school, her home.
“I must understand what exactly?” Shoko interrupted. She turned around, fixing a piercing gaze on the sitting silhouettes of the old men, her eyes reflecting resentment.
"Kill a 16-year-old? Kill a child? On what grounds? Because even if he is causing no harm at the moment, he will in the future?” She demanded.
“You must understand!” The booming voice returned and argued. Shoko groaned quietly. She took another quick and angry drag, running her tongue along her teeth. She couldn't fathom the cruelty of the request, the disregard with which the Higher-Ups were treating the lives of her students.
Her mind quickly replayed the moments spent with Yuuji and the others. Her thoughts turned to the countless hours spent watching her students train, the bonds made in the moments against Curses and in their downtime. Yuuji, with his infectious spirit, embodied the very essence of the good she believed in.
“The rest of the students,” The condescending voice returned, and the cigarette was almost crushed in her hand, “Will die if you do not do something about it! Their future as Jujutsu sorcerers will be gone. The Ten-Shadow Technique user with an innate power so amazing and with so much potential. Or even the young girl, Kugisaki. Her technique is unique and has promise! You would be erasing their-”
"I am not raising soldiers." Shoko declared, her voice cutting through the nervous and shameless rant. "I am raising kids, good kids, and when they grow up, it will be up to them to decide what they do with the power they were given."
The Higher-Ups exchanged cold glances from behind their white paper walls, clearly unimpressed by her.
"Yuuji is a good kid," she continued, her tone unwavering. "All of them are. They deserve a chance at a good childhood… a good life even. I won't be a part of something so barbaric." She spat the word out, the venom in her tone evident.
"I won't help you with this," she said. "I won't betray the trust they've placed in us, me even. They're all good kids, so I refuse to let you turn them into pawns in your twisted and fucked up ideas."
Shoko flung the dwindling cigarette to the ground, stomping on it under the sole of her heel as the ember extinguished with a sizzle.
"You can find someone else to be your puppet. But I wish them luck trying to go through me.”
As the old bastards’ voices raised in frustration and anger, Shoko turned on her heel as it clicked on the uneven floor and walked out, leaving the echoes of their discontent behind. The door closed with a slam.
As she stepped into the hallway, a wave of relief washed over her. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered gently, casting shadows on the floor. To her surprise, she found Satoru and Suguru waiting for her. They were still dressed in their uniform. Satoru was playing with the edge of his blindfold. Suguru had his arms crossed over his chest as he hovered near the door.
Satoru, leaning casually against the wall, teased, "You always know how to make an exit, Shoko. They were practically foaming at the mouth in there." He smiled brightly, looking almost proud of her.
Suguru chimed in with a smirk, "You really do have a talent for stirring shit, don't you?"
Shoko couldn't help but crack a small smile. "It's not a talent I enjoy.”
Satoru grinned, "Come on, let's grab something to eat. I'm starving, and I bet you could use a pick-me-up too."
As they strolled down the hallway, Suguru draped an arm around Shoko's shoulders, teasing, "You know, for someone who claims not to be as affectionate as us, you really do care about those kids, huh?"
Shoko simply rolled her eyes, leaning against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru strolled ahead of them, blabbing about the restaurant he was bringing them to.
She glanced up at the awful lighting in the hallway and sighed, “Of course I care for those kids.”
Suguru smiled in response, tapping her shoulder gently with his hand as they waited for Satoru to warp them away.
How could I not?