Although the fashion showdown had ended without a winner, Sherlock couldn’t deny that it had still been the happiest and most relaxing day he’d had since arriving at Jujutsu High.
Since they were already out, Gojo decided they might as well make a day of it.
So he dragged Shoko and Sherlock around Tokyo with him.
He competed with Sherlock at the arcade, played game after game, and even challenged him to idol-group choreography on a dance machine.
Then he hauled Sherlock into dessert shops and ordered one sweet after another, enthusiastically recommending all of his personal favorites.
Sherlock tried each one.
His highest praise?
“Not too sweet.
Pretty good.” Gojo looked at him as though he’d committed a crime against humanity.
They bickered and messed around until evening, when Gojo dragged them to a yakiniku restaurant.
There, teacher and student immediately started an embarrassingly childish war over the best pieces of grilled meat.
Shoko quietly followed along through all of it.
For a brief moment, she almost felt as though she’d gone back in time.
Back to when they were still students.
It wasn’t until her eyes landed on Sherlock’s obviously younger face that reality caught up with her.
They had graduated almost two years ago.
Gojo’s gaze occasionally carried the same faint nostalgia.
His sunglasses hid it well.
Sherlock, his very first student, gave him a strange sense of familiarity.
Something about the boy reminded him of Suguru Geto.
And yet Sherlock was nothing like Suguru at all.
Sherlock didn’t dislike sweets, although calling “not too sweet” the highest possible compliment was bizarre.
He tolerated Gojo’s personality remarkably well, yet in certain situations he was even more shameless than Suguru had ever been.
Sherlock wasn’t particularly picky about food, either, but his unquestioned favorite was grilled meat.
Little things like that kept giving Gojo flashes of familiarity.
And at the same time, reminding him that this was someone completely different.
Sherlock himself didn’t pay much attention to the occasional nostalgic looks from Gojo and Shoko.
The reason he got along with Gojo was actually pretty simple.
Sherlock wasn’t exactly a model citizen himself.
Someone who falsified his age just to sneak into an adults-only fan event probably had no right to pretend otherwise.
After the three of them spent the entire day fooling around, they finally returned to Jujutsu High.
At the top of the long stone staircase lined with torii gates, Masamichi Yaga was waiting for them.
His face was dark enough to suggest trouble.
But the moment he saw the three approaching together, his expression softened slightly.
Behind his sunglasses, something difficult to describe flickered in his eyes.
Before any of them noticed him, Yaga quietly turned and walked away.
What Yaga didn’t know was that Gojo’s Six Eyes had caught every detail.
For a moment, emotion churned behind those sky-blue eyes.
Yet the carefree smile on Gojo’s face never changed.
Sherlock said nothing about it.
After they escorted Shoko back to the infirmary, he and Gojo headed toward the dormitories.
Halfway there, Sherlock finally asked the question that had been on his mind.
“Do I remind you that much of Suguru Geto?” Gojo paused.
Then a cheerful smile spread across his face.
He casually threw an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders.
“Nope.” Sherlock glanced up at him.
“Sherlock-kun is way more entertaining than that narrow-eyed guy with the ridiculous bangs.” Gojo didn’t ask where Sherlock had learned about Suguru.
He didn’t ask why Sherlock had suddenly brought him up, either.
He simply gave the answer he believed.
Sherlock didn’t respond.
The truth was, most of what he remembered about Jujutsu Kaisen consisted of memes and scattered fragments anyway.
Whether he resembled Suguru Geto didn’t matter to him.
He knew who he was.
That was enough.
He had only asked because someone needed to acknowledge the obvious.
He couldn’t exactly stand there forever while Gojo and Shoko kept unconsciously searching for traces of their old friend in him.
If nobody addressed it, those feelings would only become harder to separate.
Unfortunately, Sherlock’s silence gave Gojo the wrong idea.
Taking advantage of his height, Gojo planted one hand on Sherlock’s head and vigorously messed up his hair.
“Sherlock-kun.” His tone became unusually serious.
“You’re going to become much stronger than that weird-bangs bastard.
I’m sure of it.” Sherlock blinked.
“And I’m not saying that because you’re my first student.” Gojo’s hand remained on his head.
“Or because of anything else.” His voice softened slightly.
“Don’t underestimate yourself.” “You’re still the only person I’ve ever met who managed to bypass my Infinity using nothing but your innate technique.” Sherlock went quiet.
After a long breath, he decided not to dwell on it.
“Fine.” He looked away.
“I’ll get stronger than you.” Then his eyes narrowed.
“And when I do, I’m beating the hell out of you.” Gojo immediately brightened.
He lightly smacked Sherlock on the head.
“Hahahaha!
You’ve still got a long way to go!” His grin widened.
“But Gojo-sensei will be looking forward to the day you finally manage it!” Sherlock rolled his eyes.
Then, almost casually, he brought the conversation back around.
“Speaking of Geto…
Sensei, your best friend’s name is kind of weird.” “?” A question mark practically appeared over Gojo’s head.
He waited.
Sherlock naturally continued.
“So his surname is Geto, right?” “Yeah?” Sherlock frowned thoughtfully.
“I know Japanese names can have unusual readings, but 夏油 is ridiculous.
The characters literally look like ‘summer’ and ‘oil.'” Gojo’s lips twitched.
Sherlock didn’t notice.
“Who names a family something that sounds like ‘Summer Oil’?” He became increasingly invested in the subject.
“Did his ancestors sell cooking oil or something?” Gojo looked away.
Sherlock kept going.
“And even if they did, using the family name as permanent advertising seems a little excessive.” Silence.
“Actually, now that I think about it, it’s even worse when he gets older.” Sherlock nodded solemnly.
“Imagine reaching middle age with ‘oil’ literally built into your name.
That’s practically inviting people to call you greasy.” Gojo remained completely silent.
Sherlock continued talking for another few seconds before finally realizing something was wrong.
He turned.
Gojo was biting his lower lip so hard his entire face had twisted from the effort of holding back his laughter.
Sherlock stared at him.
That was the final straw.
“PFFT…!” Gojo broke.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” He doubled over.
Then he actually collapsed onto the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughed hard enough to roll across the path.
Sherlock’s expression slowly turned flat.
It took quite a while before Gojo finally regained enough control to speak.
He wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes and slapped Sherlock on the shoulder.
“Sherlock-kun…” Another laugh escaped him.
“That’s not how his name works.” Sherlock’s eyebrow twitched.
“夏油 is the whole surname.
Geto.” Gojo grinned.
“His given name is Suguru.” Sherlock went silent.
“Oh.” Gojo’s mouth immediately started twitching again.
“But don’t worry.” He enthusiastically patted Sherlock’s shoulder.
“The next time I see Suguru, I’ll make sure he hears everything you just said.” Sherlock’s face changed.
“I’d really prefer you didn’t.” Gojo was already laughing again.
“I can’t believe I never thought of it!
Weird bangs, weird surname.
Suguru really has everything!” Sherlock stared at his teacher with open disgust.
“Seriously.” “If possible, keep me out of whatever terrible decision you’re about to make.”