Ch.175 This Team’s a Pain to Lead

"Ahh~ So boring…"

"So boring, so boring, so boring—"

Late autumn morning, Tokyo Jujutsu High's core echoed with surround-sound whining.

Not a broken record on blast or some "say it thrice" meme—just someone hitting their limit, venting the only way they could.

And this? This was the mild version.

After some shouting went ignored, the culprit started rolling on the floor.

Literally rolling.

White broom-head hair swished back and forth, outpacing any robot vacuum.

Only downside: a "dust-shield" technique kept clothes and body spotless—couldn't double as a janitor.

No matter the antics, no one in the room batted an eye. Only when he stopped rolling and stood did someone toss out, "Done? Back to work. Afternoon classes loom—we've gotta grind this out by noon, or tonight's sleep's toast."

So, the auto-white-hair sweeper kicked off another "Ahh→AHH↑" vocal warm-up, ending in a long sigh. "When's this life gonna end?"

"Your road, your terms—who's to blame?"

"…"

Only one broom-head rocks a "dust-shield"—Gojo Satoru.

And the one trading expert barbs, shutting him up? Fellow Special Grade and current hotshot, Akira.

They're holed up in High's admin zone, drowning in paperwork and data hubs.

Two months since Akira's Tokyo comeback.

No big battles, but plenty's gone down.

Top billing: the still-buzzing "Alliance HQ Vanishing Mystery."

A massive HQ building—poof, gone. Staff from brass to grunts? Clueless—out cold, every last one. Believe it?

To crack the case, the Alliance rolled out an elite squad, led by "Invincible Strongest" Gojo Satoru, backed by Grade 1s and Special Grade 1s. Took a month to wrap.

Verdict: not natural disaster—human sabotage.

Culprit? A top Alliance honcho, the crustiest vet: ex-Enforcement Chief Ijūin.

Three failed shots at the top spot bred a grudge. Before retirement, he went big.

Used his rank to slip a drug-curse combo through HQ, paralyzing everyone, aiming to dominate the Alliance with forbidden curse tech.

Overreached. Overestimated himself, underestimated the Alliance—ended up a wax corpse in a curse backlash.

Alliance decree: strip Ijūin of all honors. His family caught flak—reprimands, job reassignments.

Case closed, right?

Insiders know better—surface fluff. Rumors swirl.

Ijūin as scapegoat? Real story's conservatives vs. Gojo's faction, with the old guard losing.

Proof: vids of brass with turtle faces and stripped bare hit the net. Quick-deleted, sure, but views racked up—some saved and spread on the down-low.

That offbeat flair? Screams Gojo Satoru.

Plus, post-investigation, a new Alliance edict: Ijūin's mess demands a serious HQ purge and overhaul.

To keep curse-busting on track, branches sprout in Japan's three metro hubs—task assignments, sorcerer and Overseer dispatches streamlined.

Tokyo, metro kingpin, snagged the fattest slice—its branch mirroring Tokyo High's setup. Two signs, one crew.

Recall the brass's old beef with Gojo? Now look.

Some whisper the conservatives split over Pokémon—infighting kicked off.

Evidence stacks.

One: not all brass got the turtle treatment—just a chunk.

Two: branches aren't Tokyo-only—Nagoya and Osaka got 'em too.

Unlike Kanto's Tokyo, Nagoya and Osaka hug Kyoto close—Osaka's in the same metro ring, tourist trails linked. No need for a branch there.

Peek at Osaka's roster: Zenin, Kamo, or their lackeys.

Three branches, Big Three clans nab two.

Old-school sorcerers know these ancient families faction up.

Big Three stick tight—Gojo-Zenin spats? Family squabbles.

Lesser clans, still packing heat, clique up—eyeing a bigger slice, dreaming of Big Three parity.

That tussle bleeds into the Alliance. The council system curbs Big Three clout—one rep per clan.

Big Three don't sleep—lock the top, infiltrate the middle and bottom. Numbers game, sorcerer training? They fear no one.

Whatever the gossip, Gojo Satoru's the big winner.

Rep, power, influence—he's got it all. Jackpot.

To Gojo himself? Not a win—pure hassle.

Rep? He's already "no road lacks a friend; who doesn't know me?"

Power and influence? Cool on paper, pain in practice.

What's a branch?

A standalone unit—self-run, self-funded.

Finance, staffing, task delegation—devolved as far as it goes. Barring core traditions like sorcerer grading and high-tier missions needing HQ sign-off, branch heads call the shots.

Gojo's one-man rule.

Cue the capitalist DNA line: The boss is just a shell. Eyes open, hundreds eat, drink, shit, sleep—all on me. What's left for my plate?

Not kidding—hundreds.

Sorcerers and Overseers are few, but intel, funding, government liaisons? Someone's gotta do it.

Used to be Alliance HQ's job—now Tokyo's burden.

"They're trying to work me to death," Gojo grumbled, tasting the rare truth: humans have limits.