Obedient to Every Word
Whether it was because he had beaten the boy up in Antarctica, or because the boy had been frightened by his first encounter with a stranger after coming down from the mountain, Toyama Akira became completely obedient to Gojo Satoru after returning to Jujutsu High.
Gojo Satoru went from an initial “Huh?” with question marks practically filling his head to testing the waters several times, eventually discovering that the boy really hadn’t somehow short-circuited his brain.
Gojo Satoru: ……
Choice A: Take advantage of the boy’s obedience and finish his work properly, then come back for him.
Choice B: Take advantage of this period to teach him properly before his next mutation arrived.
Gojo Satoru’s rationality wavered between A and B. After wavering for a full three seconds, he decisively pressed C.
“Akira, I’m craving buttered potatoes today. Can you make some?”
“And could you also get me one of those kids’ meals from the restaurant where Shoko and the others ate last time? Thanks.”*
The people at Jujutsu High stared at the white-haired young man sprawled in his chair like a boneless cat, all long limbs and no bones whatsoever.
Everyone at Jujutsu High: ……
There was no way Toyama Akira would agree to things like that.
“Sure.”
Everyone at Jujutsu High: ……
When everyone at Jujutsu High turned toward the black-haired boy with a collective “???” he merely scratched his cheek, looking a little embarrassed. “Although I might have to ask the restaurant owner whether they offer delivery. I’m still not quite brave enough to leave Jujutsu High lately.”
Everyone at Jujutsu High: ……
Something was very, very wrong.
Going by the boy’s appearance alone, along with the way he behaved when he was acting normal, he really did resemble the sort of person who would be bullied at school, then easily be ordered around by upperclassmen to run errands, do odd jobs, and rub their legs.
It was just that, after coming to Jujutsu High, the boy had been [normal] far too rarely.
It was like seeing Lin Daiyu wield a willow tree and sweep across the battlefield, then watching her sit quietly and demurely reading beneath a candle by her bed. It gave one the feeling of:
“Huh? Am I the one who’s confused, or is the world?”
The people at Jujutsu High couldn’t understand why the boy had suddenly become so excessively quiet and normal that he seemed abnormal.
But they were all in complete agreement that they couldn’t stand the way Gojo Satoru kept ordering the boy around.
They didn’t understand the white-haired teacher’s uncontrollable joy at having suddenly risen from serfdom to sing his heart out. All they saw was this:
“Akira, take this shirt and wash it for me.”
“Akira, I want to read the manga. Huh? It hasn’t been updated yet? Then draw what happens next for me.”
“Akira, I don’t feel like writing this report. Can you do it for me? It’s not much, only ten of them. Oh, the versions I wrote before? Hahaha, I never put pen to paper at all.”
As the black-haired boy was about to wash clothes, write reports, and moonlight as a manga artist all at once, several people at Jujutsu High finally couldn’t take it anymore.
Zen’in Maki grabbed the boy away just as he was actually washing a shirt with one hand and writing a report with the other. Seriously, how could anyone do all that at once? He wasn’t Ryomen Sukuna, with four arms and two faces.
“Toyama, stop doing everything for that bandage-covered bastard!”
The boy thought about it for a moment. “But they’re all small things?”
Zen’in Maki glanced at the thick stack of report pages in the boy’s hands. Only ten thousand words, that was all.
Zen’in Maki silently swallowed, then decided to follow the boy’s train of thought.
“So you don’t think it’s outrageous that he’s handing all these [small things] over to you?”
“He could do them himself!”
The boy continued thinking, then repeated in a murmur, “Gojo-sensei should do these things himself…”
The others nodded. “Exactly, exactly!”
“But Gojo-sensei still makes me do them…”
The others nodded. “Exactly, exactly!”
“…So Gojo-sensei is trying to train me!”
The others nodded. “Exactly, exac…”
“……”
How had he skipped straight to that conclusion?
Toyama Akira might really have been frightened by that head full of stitches. After this incident, he also understood that not every strong person was Gojo Satoru. The only person who wouldn’t despise him, wouldn’t hurt him, and would protect him was Gojo Satoru.
And Antarctica.
But Toyama Akira had already secured Antarctica. He had built a safe house there, along with multiple backup bases. At last, he had the spare capacity to turn his attention toward Gojo Satoru.
Thus, while eating buttered potatoes and biting into the can of cola the boy had handed him with both hands, the young man drawled lazily, “I’m the only strongest person who can protect you, you know?”
The boy would answer, “You’re right.”
Gojo Satoru swallowed the potato crumbs in his mouth, then let the cola fizz around his mouth before sending it bubbling down his throat. “Ahem. So you won’t find anyone more reliable than me!”
The report he had submitted needed to be copied out again by Gojo Satoru. Yaga could recognize his handwriting.
As the boy corrected the mistakes Gojo Satoru had copied into the report, he nodded steadily. “You’re right.”
Gojo Satoru: ……
Because the boy was being so obedient that it almost felt like mockery, Gojo Satoru pretended to casually push his sunglasses up. He glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye, saw the report covered in red ink beneath the boy’s pen, and immediately looked away as if his eyes had been stabbed.
“…Ahem, cough, cough.”
Gojo Satoru felt that the boy’s condition was a little off. After hesitating, he tested the waters.
“…So, without me, you’d die, right?”
Without even looking up, the boy drew another perfect red circle with his pen. “You’re right.”
Gojo Satoru: ……
What part of that was right?
These past few days, Toyama Akira’s [die-hard fan of Gojo Satoru] levels had become so intense that the students at Jujutsu High were giving him a wide berth.
At first, when everyone saw the various Gojo Satoru goods in the boy’s dorm room, they joked and laughed about it, but deep down, no one doubted that Gojo Satoru himself had stuffed them in there out of sheer mischief. At first, that was.
Then one day, while passing the boy’s dormitory, they saw him earnestly say to the white-haired teacher, “Gojo-sensei, could you give me some more merch I can wear or carry around?”
Everyone at Jujutsu High: ……
Had it already reached this level?
There was even professional terminology now.
Could this still be cured?
Their consciences and instincts battled one another.
Although they wanted to pull the boy out of this sea of sin, in the end…
Just as the boy seemed to sense something and looked toward the door…
The students of Jujutsu High swiftly ducked behind it, dragging Inumaki Toge away with them despite his complete lack of awareness and his attempt to wave hello to Toyama Akira.
Inside the room.
Gojo Satoru was also somewhat speechless when he heard the boy’s request.
He really wanted to ask why, but asking why would make it seem as though he lacked confidence in himself. Especially when Gojo Satoru’s gaze swept over the objects behind the boy: an Antarctica poster, Antarctica photo cards, Antarctica flyers, Antarctica keychains…
Gojo Satoru pushed up his sunglasses without the slightest hesitation and answered with effortless style, “Sure.”
“I’ll give you some tomorrow.”
The next day, Gojo Satoru gave Toyama Akira a pendant.
A global satellite navigation GPS tracking pendant. It could pinpoint his location even as far away as Antarctica.
Toyama Akira: ……
“It’s a shame I have nothing of value, and I don’t know what to give you in return, Sensei…”
The next day, when Gojo Satoru was stopped by the boy, he looked at the crown of the boy’s bowed head and heard him say that. Then the boy seemed to hesitate before suddenly extending both hands, holding out a box.
“I made this necklace for you myself, Gojo-sensei. Please accept it.”
Gojo Satoru: ……
Gojo Satoru looked at the thing inside the box.
It was clean and square. Aside from looking very much like a box, it also appeared to contain nothing but a box.
If anyone else had been there, they probably would have called it [the emperor’s necklace].
But Gojo Satoru had the Six Eyes, so he easily saw the necklace inside the apparently empty box, formed from a series of neatly linked spaces.
It was a necklace only the boy could make.
And a necklace only he could see.
The white-haired man smiled. His blindfold trembled briefly with the motion of his smile, then settled back into stillness.
Gojo Satoru took out the necklace and held up the strand that only the two of them could see, seemingly examining it.
Sunlight passed completely through the seemingly nonexistent spaces, like crystal that was too transparent, dissolving entirely into the air. Only when the boy focused his mind and made the spaces visible could Gojo Satoru pick up the special necklace. Otherwise, all Gojo Satoru could see was a peculiar cursed energy circuit. Even knowing that the boy’s spatial creation was there, reaching out to touch it would never make contact with this heterogeneous space.
The boy looked up. His gaze trembled slightly as he swallowed, apparently nervous.
Reflected in the boy’s raised gray-green eyes was Gojo Satoru’s dashing movement. No one knew how he did it, but he easily looped the necklace around the back of his neck with one hand and fastened the clasp.
“Of course I’m going to accept a gift from my student.”
Toyama Akira licked his lips, as though trying to form a smile. But…
“However…”
Gojo Satoru kept his eyes on the boy, whose gaze had dropped again. His blue eyes curved into crescents as his hand, without even looking, accurately found one of the spatial clasps. He easily removed it, then…
“Take out the GPS tracker I gave you, Akira.”
Toyama Akira: ……
Fine.
All right.
The boy silently took the spatial clasp Gojo Satoru had given him, pulled out the GPS tracker inside, and stuffed it back into the pendant around his own neck.
“…Do you really hate having your location tracked that much…?”
“…Because I feel like Gojo-sensei is the type who would haul me back from Antarctica after I went there…”
Gojo Satoru: ……
Accurate.
But please don’t describe him like a vicious mother-in-law who beats newlyweds apart.
Gojo Satoru pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and prepared to try a different angle.
“You’re not even sincere when you give your teacher a gift…!”
Toyama Akira: ……
“No, I am. There are eleven spatial clasps, and this is the only one where I put the tracker you gave me.”
“…Am I supposed to thank you for the generous gift from a kind student?”
Toyama Akira: ……
The boy looked confused, his bewilderment entirely genuine.
Huh?
He only realized he was supposed to be grateful because of one GPS tracker?
There were ten more inside?