Transmigrated as Sukuna, but the Host is Yukinoshita?

Chapter 18: This Isn’t Right, Is It?

“Brother, how come you’re still sleeping?”

In a daze, an incredibly familiar voice rang in Hachiman Hikigaya’s ears.

“Didn’t I tell you yesterday? While training is important, you don’t have to push yourself so hard that you can’t get up the next morning.”

Yukinoshita Yukino, who had changed into her middle school uniform, stood with her hands on her hips beside her incompetent brother’s bed and said helplessly.

Wrong, she shouldn’t call him that anymore.

He should be considered the hero who saved Shinjuku instead.

Ever since the battle in Shinjuku, Hikigaya Hachiman had become extremely diligent, even going to extremes, and although Komachi didn’t pry too much, she could guess roughly what had happened.

Surely not something good.

“If you don’t get up soon, you’ll be late!” Komachi bent down and gently poked Hikigaya Hachiman’s cheek with her delicate fingers. “But even if you get up now, you probably won’t make it, ho-san.”

The moment he was poked, Hikigaya Hachiman instinctively frowned and then turned over under the covers.

“Aah!”

A sudden ache sprang from every corner of his body, fully waking the groggy boy with droopy eyes.

“Breakfast is ready. I’ll go to school first.” Seeing that he finally woke up, Komachi left after throwing in a comment.

She certainly didn’t want to be late.

Hikigaya Hachiman cautiously sat up, enduring the pain in his arms while rubbing his eyes until his mind became clearer.

“What’s ‘ho’ even supposed to mean…” He chuckled self-deprecatingly and checked his phone on the bedside table.

His eyes widened abruptly, and he threw aside the blanket, ready to get out of bed, but the sore muscles in his body made him wince, and half-fallen off the bed, almost collapsing mid-turn.

“Pain, pain, pain…”

Struggling to stand up, the droopy-eye boy rubbed his thigh as he walked on zombie-like shaky steps to wash up in the bathroom.

Missing this morning seems inevitable today.

9…

Growl…

“Yo, Hachiman, you’re here kind of early.”

Standing at the podium, Shizuka Hiratsuka crossed her arms and looked piercingly at the sluggish student, smirking coldly.

However, upon seeing him limping into the classroom, the reprimanding look immediately disappeared, replaced by a frown as she asked, “What happened to you? Were you injured on your way to school?”

“No, just worked out too hard.” Hachiman grimaced.

He rode his bicycle to school.

This feeling was akin to making a rarely exercise gamer do one lap of frog jumps around the track, only to ride their bicycles to school the next day in sheer agony.

“Whatever, return to your seat.” Seeing this miserable state, Hiratsuka couldn’t bear to scold him further and waved him off casually.

“Thanks.”

Sighing deeply, Hachiman returned to his desk in rigid gait.

He noticed a string of titles on the blackboard: Cultural Festival Executive Committee Elections.

Seeing both the male and female executive committee seats vacant, the droopy-eyed young man chuckled involuntarily. Was there any need to run for such a temporary position? Generally, no one would volunteer or even participate in such a race for roles.

Looking around, virtually everyone seemed to duck their heads low as if afraid of meeting the burning gaze of the passionate讲师 standing at the podium and getting selected.

Arriving late, Hachiman joined the fray; by the time he entered the classroom, morning assembly was mostly over, and the next class had almost started, yet the selection of the executive committee members remained unresolved, making Hiratsuka somewhat impatient.

Scanning around and seeing someone dare to show up despite being late and mock others, it’s you!

Without hesitation, Saitama Sensei wrote Hachiman’s name under the male executive committee spot: “Really, selecting an executive member is taking forever, when the next class will soon start! Let’s make one decision now and finish the rest after school!”

Indeed, it all boiled down to the teacher’s final designation.

Hachiman made a face of ‘I knew it’, smiling smugly at seeing this come true.

But suddenly, his smile froze.

Huh? Why does the name on the blackboard look so familiar, like a mirror image of my own? There’s another fellow named Hikigaya Hachiman in this class after all.

This is unexpected…

“This isn’t right!?”

He blinked wide, slamming his fist down onto the desk to stand up, but the sudden movement caused his sore muscle fibers to sting again, forcing a grimmace out of him.

“Why, why is it me?” Hachiman gritted his teeth.

“You’re late and then sit there grinning as if you understand everything,” Saitama Sensei said crossly.

Originally thinking your state was pitiable, I hadn’t planned to blame you for being tardy. But you had the nerve to wear that self-satisfied grin, so you leave me no choice.

“Alright, no objections or resistance. Back to your seat. I’m starting the lesson.”

Shizuka wiped off the board content without a second word and proceeded with her teaching.

I don’t have enough time to waste on this nonsense…

The expression on Hachiman’s face was as if he had just swallowed a fly.

Since the unilateral exchange student Yukinoshita Yukino transferred to Jujutsu Kaisen High, Hachiman began to engage more with the high school on matters related to the higher education institution.

Aside from training, sometimes he would take on some minor tasks, like cleansing fourth-grade or third-grade cursed spirits, etc.

His attitude gradually shifted; he couldn’t remain indifferent anymore. He needed to secure his peace of mind, a simple life was no longer possible.

The information provided by the higher education institute indicated that the mastermind behind the Shinjuku incident was not eradicated, and similar terrorist attacks might occur again in the future.

At least until the major threat was dealt with, Hachiman couldn’t carry on a carefree life.

Taking up household duties, there must surely follow the exorcising of curses afterward.

Ah, being an officer, that’s all there is to it.

With this thought in mind, Hachiman sighed resignedly.

When the afternoon came to an end and school dispersed, Hachiman watched as the bespectacled class monitor began running the women’s executive committee election.

“I don’t understand why each class has to have a male and female officer.” Hachiman grumbled.

Where can I find a woman willing to be my partner?

“If no one volunteers, we decide by rock-paper-scissors…”

Before the class monitor finished speaking, a timid hand rose hesitantly.

“I’ll… I’ll do it.”

The soft-spoken girl with a bun stated weakly.

…

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