Chapter 105 — The Principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High
When Yuji finally pieced everything together, his expression stiffened.
"So that's how it is…" he murmured. "Gojo-sensei had it all planned from the start, didn't he?"
He stared blankly into the crackling campfire, the flames reflecting in his tired eyes.
At that moment, a calm voice came from behind him.
"Why are you still sitting there?"
Fushiguro Megumi stepped out of the shadows, wearing his Jujutsu High uniform. His tone was even, his face unreadable.
"Get ready to head back to the school," he said. "The barrier around the campus is weak right now. As long as we keep you out of sight, no one will realize you're still alive."
"We'll regroup with the others first," Megumi continued. "Then we'll figure out how to rescue Gojo-sensei."
"Megumi…" Yuji clenched his fists, cutting him off with a strained shout. "Don't just accept me like nothing happened!"
He rose to his feet, trembling, voice cracking with emotion.
"Don't act like it's all normal — like I didn't do anything wrong! I killed people, Megumi! So many people! Because of me, so many died!"
The guilt that had been festering inside him since Shibuya boiled over. Every face, every scream, every death — he carried them all like chains.
He couldn't imagine walking back into Jujutsu High as if nothing had happened.
Megumi met his outburst head-on. His tone sharpened — not cruel, but cutting through Yuji's self-blame.
"You think you're the only one who lost something? That only you bear the weight of it all?" he snapped. "Those people didn't die because of you alone. We were all there. We were all part of it."
He took a step forward, his voice steady but heavy with conviction.
"You're a jujutsu sorcerer, Yuji. We don't have judges or juries. The only way we prove we deserve to exist… is by saving others. That's it."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Isn't that why you swallowed Sukuna's finger in the first place?"
Yuji's breath hitched. His gaze dropped to the dirt.
That day — his reckless choice to eat the cursed finger — it hadn't been for power, or glory. It was because he wanted to save someone.
But now… the people he'd saved and the people he'd killed weighed equally on his heart.
Before he could sink deeper into guilt, another voice broke the silence.
"So this is where you were, Okkotsu. I was wondering why all the curses around here suddenly vanished."
The heavy, confident tone came from the darkness.
From the shadows, Zen'in Shinsuke stepped forward — his presence alone shifting the air around them.
He was spattered with dust and blood, the faint glow of lingering cursed energy still radiating from his body.
From the look of him, he'd been fighting non-stop — from dawn until nightfall.
And judging by the corpses of curses strewn across Tokyo… not a single one had survived his path.
After all, out of ten million curses, there were plenty ranked semi–Grade 1 and above.
From the western edge of Tokyo all the way to the east, Zen'in Shinsuke had carved a path of slaughter — a one-man storm through the cursed horde.
So when he stumbled upon the others by chance, it almost felt like fate.
"Zen'in-sensei, you're here too?" Yuta Okkotsu rose to his feet, a trace of relief flickering across his face.
"Yuta," Shinsuke sighed, eyeing him up and down, "seriously, can't you tone down your cursed energy a little? You're blasting so much of it around that every curse within a mile is too scared to come close."
He folded his arms, shaking his head in disbelief.
This kid's cursed energy just kept growing — every time they met, it was stronger. At this rate, even Gojo's Infinity wouldn't seem that far off.
Yuta gave a helpless smile. "I am holding back, sensei. There's just… too much of it. I can't seal it all away."
He wasn't exaggerating. Sometimes, too much cursed energy could be a burden — a beacon that made stealth impossible, because every curse sensitive to it would flee before you even arrived.
"..."
Shinsuke let out a slow exhale, then tilted his head. "Anyway, what are you all doing here? Shouldn't you be trying to rescue your teacher by now?"
His gaze shifted between Fushiguro and Itadori. "And what's with you two? You look like you've just finished arguing."
Before either could answer, Yuta stepped in smoothly.
"Sensei, Yuji's… struggling. He blames himself for what happened in Shibuya. All the deaths, the destruction — it's weighing on him."
Yuta's tone softened. "He's only been a sorcerer for a year. Carrying something like Sukuna's power would break anyone. I think the pressure's just… catching up to him."
Of everyone here, Yuta understood Yuji best. He'd once been in the same position — cursed, feared, and sentenced to death by the higher-ups.
"Pressure?" Shinsuke frowned, genuinely puzzled. "What pressure? You don't take orders from those fossils in the higher-ups. Do whatever you want."
He glanced at Yuji, voice casual but sharp as a blade.
"As for Shibuya — weren't all those people killed by Sukuna? What's there to feel guilty about?"
He shrugged. "And come on, since when has there ever been a war without casualties? If you can't accept that, then don't be a jujutsu sorcerer. Go live a normal life."
The bluntness of his words hung heavy in the silence that followed.
Then—
"Oi! What's that supposed to mean, 'they all died because of me'?"
A mouth split open on Yuji's cheek, Sukuna's voice dripping with irritation.
He hated how Shinsuke was dumping all the blame on him alone.
It's not like the so-called "heroes" hadn't spilled innocent blood in their fights — but somehow, he was the only monster in the room?
"You're seriously gonna pretend your hands are clean?" Sukuna sneered.
Shinsuke blinked once, then smirked. "Sukuna, you're talking nonsense again. We're the good guys — you're the evil one. Obviously, the deaths are on you. We're all pure-hearted saints here. How could we possibly kill anyone?"
"'Good'? 'Evil'? Who decided that?" Sukuna growled.
Shinsuke's grin widened. "Me. Because I won. And if I'm not justice, then who is?"
For a moment, Sukuna fell silent — not out of fear, but rage.
That infuriating logic, that arrogance… he'd never forget this humiliation. Until he beat this man with his own hands, the insult would burn in his memory forever.
Meanwhile, Yuji clenched his fists, the confusion in his eyes slowly clearing.
"Zen'in-sensei…" he murmured, then raised his head, conviction hardening in his voice. "You're right. I can't keep wallowing. I'll get stronger — strong enough to save people… and strong enough to save Gojo-sensei!"
Shinsuke smirked approvingly. "Good. As long as you understand."
He turned away, scanning the cursed-infested skyline. "You all head back. I still have a few more curses to take care of."
He stretched his shoulders like a man going back to the gym, not a battlefield.
"You're not coming with us, sensei?" Yuta asked, blinking. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh right — you probably haven't heard yet."
"The higher-ups appointed you as the new principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High."
"They're waiting for you to come back and take command."
Shinsuke froze. "…Come again?"
"I'm the what now?"
He stared blankly, then rubbed his temples. "The higher-ups have finally lost it, huh? They actually want me to be principal?"
Of all the bizarre decisions they'd made, this one took the prize.
What was the point — trying to butter him up?
Even if they'd sacked Yaga, there were a dozen better candidates.
He sighed, waving dismissively. "Forget it. Doesn't matter. You three go back first. I'll head there in a couple of days."
As far as he was concerned, the old men could play politics all they wanted — as long as they didn't interfere with his training or his fights, he didn't care.
Principal? Sure. He could just be a "hands-off" one.
Maybe in the past, he'd have been excited — a promotion meant better pay.
But now? Money wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on.
"Then what about Yuji?" Yuta asked carefully.
"Bring him along," Shinsuke replied without hesitation. "And don't worry about the higher-ups. They think slapping a title on me means I'll start obeying them?"
He scoffed. "Bunch of senile relics. Half of them already have one foot in the grave — why waste energy caring what they think?"
"…Right," Yuta said, twitching a smile, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.
Still — this was peak Zen'in Shinsuke.
Where most people would dance around the rules, he didn't even bother pretending the game existed.