Exhausted but Clear-Headed
In the end, Toyama Akira agreed to go on a mission with Gojo Satoru.
Although their previous fight had seemingly ended in a draw, the moment Gojo Satoru said, “Then let’s do it again,” Toyama Akira immediately refused.
Toyama Akira shook his head like a rattle. “I can’t do it again. I can’t hurt Gojo-sensei.”
Gojo Satoru had actually noticed that too. His hands were still tucked into his pockets, his fingers aimlessly rubbing against the fabric. He turned his head slightly aside, seemingly lost in thought.
The boy could be far too direct sometimes, like a stone hurled forcefully into a lake, the tremendous splash drowning out the ripples of all those subtle silences.
Gojo Satoru drew a breath. He was just about to answer that directness with a natural joke, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, when…
“What if Gojo-sensei dies?”
Gojo Satoru: …
Gojo Satoru’s breath caught in his throat.
This was just a sparring match, not a fight to the death!
Unfortunately, that thought failed to reach the boy whose brainwaves were operating on an entirely different frequency. Toyama Akira continued musing to himself. “If Gojo-sensei dies…”
Gojo Satoru: …
Did they really have to keep talking about this?
And yet, Gojo Satoru couldn’t say why he hadn’t spoken up to stop him.
He watched as Toyama Akira’s pupils went unfocused when he drew out his words, as though he had sunk into some unknown fantasy. Then his pupils narrowed slightly. Gojo Satoru held his breath without realizing it, but the answer he had expected never came. After a long pause, the boy finally finished, “I would become unimaginable.”
Gojo Satoru was just about to say something when Toyama Akira continued pondering. “What if I die…”
Gojo Satoru: …
Did they seriously have to continue this ominous topic?
Gojo Satoru grabbed Toyama Akira by the shoulders at once, intending to put a stop to it. But the boy, still immersed in his fantasy, seemed to think of something. His head swayed with the shaking, and Gojo Satoru found himself staring straight at his dazed, upturned smile.
“If I die…”
…
“Hee hee.”
Gojo Satoru: …
Gojo Satoru really did not want to know what he was hee-heeing about.
Since he had chosen [I’d rather face cursed spirits than lay a hand on Gojo-sensei], Toyama Akira, no matter how unwilling he was, was dragged by Gojo Satoru to Yaga to be assigned a mission.
In Yaga’s office, he obediently sat in the chair across from the desk. Gojo Satoru did not bother finding a seat. He simply leaned an elbow against the back of the chair and stood lazily beside the boy while Yaga flipped through the latest mission list.
“There’s a mission to exorcise a grade 2 cursed spirit near Sendai. Can Toyama handle it?”
“I…”
“He can.”
Toyama Akira: …
Toyama Akira glanced at Gojo Satoru, who had snatched the answer from him. Then he looked at Yaga. Finally, he looked at his reflection in the gleaming floor. He confirmed that this was not his body betraying him by answering in ventriloquism.
“There was a ghost story in the city center three days ago. Can Satoru take you to investigate it?”
“I…”
“He can.”
Toyama Akira: …
Toyama Akira mentally reviewed the exchange and confirmed that Yaga’s second-person pronoun had indeed referred to him. He glanced at Gojo Satoru again, stayed silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “Gojo-sensei, why don’t you sit here? I…”
“Then this cursed spirit…”
Gojo Satoru snatched the answer instantly. “He can.”
And Toyama Akira was still saying, “I…”
Toyama Akira: …
Could he at least find out what the mission was before he went to do it…??
Toyama Akira finally couldn’t take it anymore. He calmly looked at Gojo Satoru. “Gojo-sensei, you keep stealing all my words. What am I supposed to say?”
Gojo Satoru looked down at the boy’s calm, lifeless expression. He patted Toyama Akira on the head, pressed it around, and turned it back toward Yaga. Then he grinned. “Just smile, nod, and say ‘Mm-hm.’”
Toyama Akira tried to pull up the corners of his mouth.
Gojo Satoru watched Toyama Akira turn back with the same cold, dead side profile and, unable to resist, braced himself against the chair and bent down to peer at the boy’s expression.
“You aren’t upset, are you?”
Toyama Akira finally managed to lift the corners of his mouth. He smiled and nodded. “Mm-hm.”
Gojo Satoru: …
Although Gojo Satoru was supposedly taking Toyama Akira on missions, most of the time all he had to do was make Toyama Akira swear a binding vow not to run away, then drop the boy at the mission site. The boy, scared half to death, would solve the problem at light speed.
Gojo Satoru: …
Every time he carried the limp, kneeling boy back with both hands, Gojo Satoru would wonder to himself, Is it really that effective?
It was like setting a hamster’s tail on fire. As it frantically raced away upside down, it scrubbed the floor clean with its back. Gojo Satoru now felt much the same way, staring silently at the gleaming floor with not a trace of cursed spirit left on it.
He lifted the dazed, death-seeking boy by the scruff and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Was scaring him really that effective?
And Toyama Akira, who had recently started going on missions: Thanks for asking. I’m at Jujutsu High, and I’ve just become a child laborer.
Toyama Akira was a little tired. No matter how exhausted he got, being scared would make him sprint several kilometers like a pinpricked husky, only to turn around and discover that all the cursed spirits behind him were gone. But he was still in the middle of a mission now, and Gojo Satoru wouldn’t let him return to Antarctica to rest.
Mainly because Antarctica was too far away. Even Gojo Satoru needed a long time to go after him every time, and Gojo Satoru already had a mountain of missions piled up, leaving him no time to actually chase Toyama Akira down. And besides…
“I don’t think Akira would come back if he went, you know?”
Toyama Akira: …
Toyama Akira waved tiredly. “If you know that, why say it out loud and hurt our feelings?”
Gojo Satoru, who had only been testing him: …
So Toyama Akira now felt like a robotic vacuum whose spring had been wound tighter and tighter, without ever being allowed to unwind.
The robotic vacuum was Gojo Satoru’s metaphor.
Toyama Akira did not know why Gojo Satoru had chosen that metaphor, but he did know that robotic vacuums could work without a wound-up spring, just as he knew that Gojo Satoru could recharge without Antarctica.
“You have the Six Eyes too, you know?”
Whenever he saw the boy come back from a mission with half his body sprawled across the sofa and the other half dragging on the floor, listlessly staring at the ceiling, Gojo Satoru would suppress the urge to water him and bring him back to life. Instead, he would pat the boy on the head in consolation.
Toyama Akira knew Gojo Satoru was talking about using the Six Eyes to regulate cursed energy expenditure and use reverse cursed technique to refresh his brain. He stayed quiet for a long time before seeming to summon a little spirit. “…I don’t need the Six Eyes.”
“I need clairvoyance.”
Gojo Satoru: …
Gojo Satoru did not want to understand that instantly. But…
“You’ve only gone seven days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-four minutes without returning to Antarctica. Do you really have to care that much??”
Toyama Akira was exhausted, but at the same time, he was deeply in awe of Gojo Satoru.
Anyone who discovered that the person they were traveling for work with was a workaholic who never rested, twenty-four hours a day, would be in awe.
Though in Toyama Akira’s case, the “awe” was probably outweighed by the “fear.”
Although Gojo Satoru took Toyama Akira along on his missions, he generally let Toyama Akira go back and rest once he had finished his share. Later on, after seeing how efficient Toyama Akira was, he began assigning him some of his own work too. Even so, the boy could basically return to their hotel by five every afternoon to rest, while Gojo Satoru…
Once, Toyama Akira couldn’t sleep and ended up looking at pictures of Antarctica until five in the morning. Only then did Gojo Satoru push open the door, covered in dew from the night.
Toyama Akira: …
Toyama Akira had shuddered and hurriedly locked his phone, hiding it under the covers before speaking. “Why are you still…”
Wait, was Gojo Satoru not there before?
“Why are you only coming back now?”
Gojo Satoru did not notice anything strange about Toyama Akira. He leaned against the door for a while before walking in. “…Why aren’t you asleep yet? Insomnia? I’ll have Shoko prescribe you some sleeping pills tomorrow.”
Only then did Toyama Akira notice how hoarse the man’s voice was, the low rasp of someone who had stayed up far too long.
Toyama Akira simply stared at him in a daze. Gojo Satoru accurately located his own bed, apparently deciding that Toyama Akira had answered him, then collapsed onto it and fell instantly asleep.
Toyama Akira: …
The man looked like he had no need for sleeping pills at all.
Then, two seconds later, just as Toyama Akira was stealthily about to take his phone out again, Gojo Satoru, who seemed to have already fallen deeply asleep in the next bed, suddenly sprang upright.
Toyama Akira: …!!
As Toyama Akira shuddered and tumbled out of bed, he saw the white-haired young man, eyes closed, accurately feel around for his phone and set an alarm for six.
Toyama Akira: …
The sight shook Toyama Akira, who was still only a child laborer moonlighting on a few missions, to his very core.
…No way. Were all adults this kind of corporate slave?
No way. Would he have to live like this in the future too…?
And he couldn’t even go back to Antarctica…
Toyama Akira drew a breath. As his heart ached from staying up too long, he heard a crackle in his mind.
[Fear level 2%]
Terrifying.
Although when Toyama Akira told Gojo Satoru that, the man, who considered a 996 schedule a vacation compared to working all year round, simply could not understand what was so terrifying about it. But…
Toyama Akira thought that was the most terrifying part.
Did this man really not realize how terrifying his life was…?
How could anyone endure having no weekends, working after clocking out, having no separation between work and personal life, and still having to get up at six in the morning every day??
This was a B-grade horror movie!
Toyama Akira imagined that, as Gojo Satoru’s student, he might have to live this kind of life after graduating.
…This was an S-grade horror movie!
After watching Gojo Satoru stay awake for more than seventy-two hours, Toyama Akira finally couldn’t hold back. Trembling with curiosity and fear, he placed his palm against the forehead of the man dozing with his eyes closed on the sofa.
“…It’s not even hot.”
“…I have reverse cursed technique, so I don’t get fevers. You don’t need to wor…”
“Sensei’s head has such good cooling.”
“Wor…” Gojo Satoru’s attempt at reassurance abruptly died in his throat. After a pause, he grabbed the boy’s hand with one hand, pulled down his blindfold with the other, and looked up at him. “So this is a head, not a computer case?”
“I know. I was just complimenting sensei on the quality of his CPU.”
“…You…”
“Sensei, why don’t I come on a mission with you today?”
“…Huh?”
Gojo Satoru pulled his blindfold all the way down to his neck. His blue eyes widened slightly, taking in the upside-down face of the boy behind the sofa.
“I’ve had enough of spending every night waiting for Gojo-sensei to come back, secretly looking at pictures of Antarctica, and then getting scared out of bed.”
“Let’s go on a mission together today, then come back early and rest tonight.”
Gojo Satoru, after hearing Toyama Akira’s words: …
Toyama Akira saw Gojo Satoru lower his eyes for some reason, avoiding his gaze as his lashes trembled. After a while, he looked up. “You really…”
Toyama Akira was confused for two seconds, then quickly grabbed Gojo Satoru’s hand. “Yes, I really do want to see what Gojo-sensei’s work is…”
What kind of work was it, anyway?
What kind of job made someone work until five in the morning without a break, then continue working overtime, without even getting weekends off?
He refused to believe it could really be that…
Ten hours later, Toyama Akira knelt on the floor, half-dead, his flickering eyes fixed intently on the time displayed on his phone.
He confirmed that it was six in the morning, not six in the evening.
Toyama Akira: …
Toyama Akira had almost lost even his fear of cursed spirits. Emotions came from the brain, and anyone who worked overtime until six in the morning had no brain.
If a zombie came along, pulled out the brain of a corporate slave like this, and took a sniff, it would have to vomit.
Good grief, what a strong smell of work. Disgusting.
Toyama Akira was kneeling on the floor, spacing out as he wondered whether he still had a brain, when he heard a sudden snort of laughter above him.
“Hahaha, I told you that you wouldn’t last. Hurry up and go home to rest, kid. Seriously, you don’t even have the Six Eyes, you can’t use reverse cursed technique, and you still thought you could come work overtime with me?”
Toyama Akira: …
What was with this overwhelming corporate-slave stink? Was he a labor traitor?
Toyama Akira just wanted to die for a bit and relax. But when Gojo Satoru heard his unconscious muttering, he merely laughed and carried him back to the hotel, saying with practiced ease, “If you’re going to sleep, remember to turn on the air conditioner’s sleep mode.”
Toyama Akira: …
He had said [die], not [sleep], all right?
Toyama Akira drew a breath. “Gojo-sensei, what time did you go to bed last night?”
“Hm? I haven’t slept yet.”
Toyama Akira drew another breath.
“Old Orange… Are the elders at headquarters asleep right now?”
Gojo Satoru had stayed up all night far more often than Toyama Akira. Even with reverse cursed technique constantly refreshing him, his body was still overloaded, his ears ringing without pause. So he only vaguely registered Toyama Akira’s words and smiled. “They should be waking up in another four hours.”
“…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm? The bed’s over there. Ha, are you muddled from staying up all night? That’s the door.”
“Don’t worry, my head isn’t fuzzy.” Toyama Akira answered Gojo Satoru while turning around, walked straight into the doorframe, then expressionlessly covered the bruise forming on his forehead and pressed down the doorknob.
“I just wanted to see who wasn’t dead at this hour. No, I mean, I just wanted to see who would dare sleep at this hour. No…”
Although Toyama Akira’s brain was a little scrambled after staying up all night, Gojo Satoru’s brain, which had apparently gotten less sleep in an entire week than Toyama Akira had in one night, was still cooling properly.
So Gojo Satoru merely waved a hand and smiled. “Turn on the air conditioner’s sleep mode, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll go turn on an air conditioner for Old Orange’s head.”
“Well, twenty-seven degrees should be about right.”
Toyama Akira opened the door and nodded solemnly. “Find twenty-seven people, right? Got it. I’ll kill them.”
“Okay, I’m heading out.” As he spoke, Gojo Satoru walked steadily toward the bedroom, then smacked his forehead into the doorframe. Covering the bruise with one hand, he waved behind him with the other. “Don’t leave the door open for me.”
“Sure.” Toyama Akira steadily walked out of the hotel room. As he watched Gojo Satoru head toward the bed, he nodded in farewell. “Have a good trip, sensei.”
“Good night.”
Toyama Akira set the light to twenty-seven degrees.
…
It seemed to be the air conditioner.
Whatever.
No big deal.
Toyama Akira was exhausted, but he knew he was still perfectly lucid.
“I’m going to find twenty-seven air conditioners.”
The boy’s voice was solemn.