The moment you stepped into your new classroom, it felt like stepping into a time capsule. The wooden floors were scuffed and dusty, the walls faded from decades of chalk dust and teenage chaos, and the faint scent of old books lingered in the air. It wasn’t glamorous—not even close—but it was yours. A real classroom. Your classroom.

Your heart fluttered with a mix of pride and disbelief. After years of training, studying, and surviving Satoru’s questionable teaching methods, you were finally here. A teacher at Jujutsu High.

(…Though you were pretty sure Satoru had bullied the higher‑ups into approving your appointment. You could practically hear him saying, “C’mon, they’re perfect! And if you disagree, I’ll simply annoy you until you give in.”)

You set your bag down on the desk, smoothing your uniform and taking a deep breath. The footsteps in the hallway snapped you to attention. You straightened your posture, plastered on your best “responsible adult” expression, and flung the door open.

Four students shuffled in, each radiating the chaotic energy of teenagers who had already decided you were cool enough to tease.

“Heya, teach!”

“Sup!”

“Morning!”

Finger guns. All of them.

You blinked.

They grinned.

It was… a lot.

One of them opened their mouth to say something—“Did anyone see that—”

But the sentence died as another figure strolled in behind them.

A tall figure.

A very familiar figure.

A figure who absolutely did not belong in a first‑year classroom.

“Sorry, am I late?” Satoru asked casually, hands in his pockets, acting like he hadn’t just caused the entire room to gasp.

The students froze.

One dropped their pencil.

Another whispered, “Is that—? No way—”

A third was already texting someone under the desk.

Satoru just smiled, pretending not to notice the chaos he’d caused.

You stared at him, your eye twitching.

He winked.

Of course he did.

Then he glanced around the room, dramatically scanning the desks. “Oh wow,” he said, placing a hand over his heart in mock disappointment. “No desk for me? Guess I’ll just have to stand the whole day, hm?”

He leaned against the wall like he was posing for a magazine cover, crossing one ankle over the other. The students giggled, whispering excitedly as if they’d just witnessed a celebrity cameo.

You knew exactly what he was doing.

This wasn’t Satoru being annoying for fun—well, not only that.

He was checking on you. Making sure you weren’t overwhelmed. Making sure your first day went smoothly. Making sure you knew he was there if you needed him.

But instead of saying any of that, he just shot you a thumbs‑up behind the students’ backs, mouthing, You got this.

And somehow, despite the embarrassment, the chaos, and the fact that your strongest ally was pretending to be a student in your classroom… you felt your nerves settle.

Because if Satoru Gojo believed you could do this?

Then you absolutely could.