Chapter 3

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April 20, 2005

Born into the world of technology and science, Torako's childhood was a symphony of whirring gears, blinking lights, and the cold buzzing of electronic devices. At just the ripe age of seven, she would often find herself caught up in her parents' whimsical tinkering shenanigans. Mr and Mrs Murakami, both prodigal engineers, often had Torako in the judge's seat as they debated whose inventions were the best. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't before long that the whole mansion became flooded with gadgets and gizmos, machinery of all kinds.

And although it was a busy life filled with unrelenting pressure to be the best, it was sheer bliss, and the ten years old Torako intended to keep it that way.

As for jujutsu, she thought it was just another side gimmick she would never use.

If only her childhood self could see the person she chose to become now, she would definitely be disappointed.

"Torako Murakami. Second-year. Special grade. I'll be in your care," Torako said, ending the introduction with an awkward nod. Looking at the indifferent expressions on her juniors' faces, she inhaled sharply and whipped her head to look at Yaga.

"Why am I with the first-years again?" Torako asked quickly.

"Because you're the only second-year there is. It's more efficient to just combine classes."

"Right, right, right."

Then, the sluggish voice of a particularly tall boy spoke up. "Another special grade? Teacher, how come we've never heard of her before?"

Torako tilted her head to get a good look at the boy, and couldn't help but raise her brows. Eccentric hair colour. Tall stature. Slim body. Youthful, boyish voice. And a signature item: a pair of glasses. One could say that his appearance ticked off all the boxes for the 'main character look' criteria. If this life was a novel, this boy would definitely be the protagonist. Or, at least, the fan favourite.

"Satoru, she's the heir to that really big tech company. Do you not know her?"

Torako's mouth lifted, impressed and a little proud at the fact that somebody knew her.

"Thanks, Bontan. Clearly, you're smarter than Jack Frost here," she mumbled flatly with a ghost of a smile. Tilting her head the her right side, she took a good look at the boy in the bontan pants.

'That's Suguru Geto... He has quite a soothing voice for a villain...'

"Bontan?" Suguru blinked dumbly at the nickname.

The white-haired boy, on the other hand, recoiled violently with a strangled yelp. Satoru's mouth flung open in offense at the mean-spirited jest.

'And that must be Satoru Gojo.'

"Hah?! Mind saying that again, Senior?! And what did you just call me?!"

"Yeah, you were my favourite in the TV special." Torako squinted wryly, letting loose a low chuckle at the end of her comment.

"Jack Frost?!"

"The appearance matches. It's a compliment."

Having had enough of his students' arguing, Yaga cleared his throat and huffed loudly. "Ahem! Enough!"

Satoru's shrieking immediately halted. He still had his face scrunched up and teeth baring, but at least he seemed to have suppressed his intention to charge at Torako.

"You haven't even sat down and you're already starting a fight. As their senior, you're supposed to be more mature than them," Yaga lectured, a deep frown directed at his newest student. He watched as she furrowed her eyebrows, looking mildly offended and flustered by his comment.

"I just thought... it would be funny!"

"No one's laughing."

"... Well, humour does work differently for everyone–" She would've finished that sentence, had it not been for the harsh, warning glare Yaga shot her. She coughed then cleared her throat, "Ok, I'll just go sit down."

Apparently, that was all it took to zip that irksome mouth shut.

Mr Murakami would always say, that the day Torako made a good first impression was the day everyone on Earth stopped paying taxes. One could only wonder when that could be.

○○○

"Say, Murakami, why did you come so late? School started three weeks ago, but you just came."

Torako looked at Satoru from the corner of her eye, crouching down to grab the can of cola from the vending machine's pick-up box. She huffed a little.

"Dad's assistant suddenly fled the job a while ago. I volunteered to fill in until he could find a new one."

Satoru snorted, and Torako caught herself chuckling along with him.

"He must've been working her to death, huh?"

She shrugged, a hint of a smile present. "Not really. She just couldn't handle the... 'pressure'." Torako gestured with her hands, forming quotation marks on the final word.

Satoru hummed as he leant forward on his palm. "And you can?"

He said it playfully, almost mocking in a way, and Torako figured out almost immediately that this taunt was an attempt at getting even with her.

"Ha," she cackled, a heavy layer of sarcasm coating her voice. "I dunno. Hopefully, better than she can, though."

There was a petty and seemingly unnoticeable strain on the word, 'better'.

"From the slight inflection in your voice, you sound as if you have a grudge on that assistant, Senior."

Torako stilled when she heard Suguru's jab, the finger inside the can's tab hole pausing abruptly halfway through its pull. Her expression shifted for a brief moment, lips pursing into a crooked frown.

What keen ears he had.

Her brows flickered, and for one second she looked quite impressed.

"Hm," Torako shrugged before turning to lock eyes with him. "Well, she wasn't the best assisstant to begin with, so maybe I do."

But more than that, her departure reminded Torako of that person.


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