Gojo Satoru trained Sherlock for nearly two straight weeks.
During that short period, Sherlock’s combat ability improved at a frightening pace.
Before, even with Flying Thunder God, he could barely survive a single exchange against Gojo.
Now, if he went all out, he could last two or three.
That might not sound impressive, but his opponent was Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.
At the very least, Sherlock now had enough ability to protect himself against most Grade 2 curses.
Gojo had even tested his escape ability specifically.
As long as an enemy didn’t trap him inside a Domain, Sherlock could usually get away.
The same applied to curse users.
Unless someone prepared a specialized Curtain or barrier specifically designed to restrict him, catching Sherlock alive would be extremely difficult.
There was only one obvious weakness.
Flying Thunder God was unbelievably convenient, but Sherlock lacked offensive power.
To solve that problem, Gojo returned to the Gojo clan and brought back a Grade 1 cursed tool shaped like a katana.
Its name was Sayafushi.
Its ability was extremely simple.
Sharpness.
Once cursed energy was channeled into the blade, it could cut through most ordinary materials with ease.
The reason it was only considered Grade 1 rather than Special Grade was equally simple.
The sword had limits.
It couldn’t ignore durability or bypass defenses completely like some absurd legendary weapon.
Still, as a weapon for Sherlock to use while developing his own fighting style, it was more than enough.
Gojo also helped him develop an attack based on the creator of Flying Thunder God from Naruto, the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju.
Flying Thunder God Slash.
The concept wasn’t complicated.
Sherlock would throw Sayafushi first, forcing the enemy to react to the initial attack.
Then, after building momentum himself, he would use Flying Thunder God to teleport directly to the weapon and seize it in midair, immediately following with a second strike.
It wasn’t some overwhelming ultimate move.
But when used unexpectedly, it was more than enough to deal with most curses or curse users around his level.
Sherlock had started thinking that perhaps his days at Jujutsu High could continue peacefully like this.
Then, early the next morning, he received news that Gojo had left Tokyo on assignment.
That’s right.
The self-proclaimed greatest teacher had once again returned to his ridiculously busy life, leaving Sherlock behind to train on his own.
There was some good news.
Before leaving, Gojo had arranged for Yaga to take over Sherlock’s theoretical lessons.
For once, Sherlock no longer had to worry about teaching himself from a stack of textbooks.
And unlike Gojo, Yaga taught like an actual educator.
Sherlock even learned several genuinely useful methods for controlling cursed energy during his lessons.
Unfortunately, after that morning’s class ended, Yaga gave him another piece of news.
Sherlock’s official grading mission had been scheduled.
Two days from now, he would undergo an evaluation for promotion to Grade 2 jujutsu sorcerer.
His assignment was to exorcise a Grade 2 curse occupying an abandoned hospital in Yokohama.
Sherlock immediately became nervous.
He wasn’t exaggerating.
Ever since awakening his cursed technique, he’d encountered plenty of curses.
Weak ones.
Strong ones.
Several different grades.
But every single time, Sherlock had followed the same strategy.
Run.
This would be the first time he deliberately confronted a curse.
The first time he would have to fight one head-on.
And the first time he would be expected to exorcise it himself.
Yaga had taught students for long enough to notice Sherlock’s tension immediately.
After thinking for a moment, he eventually decided to reveal a little more information than he normally should have.
“The curse is located in Yokohama, inside an abandoned children’s hospital.” Sherlock listened carefully.
“It appears to have formed from children’s fear of nurses and medical treatment.” Yaga folded his arms.
“Curses born from that kind of fear generally aren’t particularly dangerous for their grade.
Its main form of attack should be physical, and the chances of it possessing a complicated innate technique are relatively low.” Sherlock relaxed slightly.
“The children weren’t truly afraid of the nurses themselves,” Yaga continued.
“They were afraid of injections, medicine, examinations, and the pain associated with treatment.” “On some level, they still understood that those things were meant to help them.” “So you don’t need to be overly nervous.” Then Yaga paused.
His expression became more serious.
Behind his sunglasses, there was something in his eyes that Sherlock couldn’t quite identify.
Perhaps regret.
Perhaps guilt.
“When you’re out there, however, remember one thing.” Sherlock straightened.
“If anything feels wrong, do not force yourself to continue.” Yaga’s voice was firm.
“Retreat.” “There will always be stronger sorcerers who can exorcise a curse later.” “But if you die on a mission, that’s the end of it.” He looked directly at Sherlock.
“Your own survival comes first.” “Always.” “No exceptions.” Sherlock was briefly surprised.
The statement went completely against the heroic doctrine repeated throughout Jujutsu High’s textbooks.
Yet Yaga stood at the front of the classroom and said it openly, not as a principal repeating institutional policy, but as a teacher speaking to his student.
“I understand, Principal Yaga.” Sherlock had no idea what memories were going through Yaga’s mind.
But beneath the intimidating appearance of a man who looked more suited to running a criminal organization than a school, Sherlock could clearly sense genuine concern.
And something else.
A regret Yaga hid extremely well.
For the next two days, Yaga personally put Sherlock through additional preparation.
Then, early on the morning of the mission, Sherlock arrived alone at the entrance to Jujutsu High.
At the bottom of the long stone staircase, a black Toyota was waiting.
A man stood beside it.
His blond hair was combed neatly back without a single strand out of place, and his suit was so perfectly pressed that Sherlock couldn’t spot so much as a wrinkle.
“Mr.
Sherlock.” The man bowed precisely.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.
My name is Watanabe Ichijo.
I will be serving as your assistant supervisor for this assignment.” Even his greeting felt professionally measured.
The bow itself was a flawless forty-five degrees.
Sherlock simply nodded.
He removed the sword case from his back, climbed into the rear seat, and settled in without saying anything else.
Watanabe didn’t seem bothered by his silence.
He quickly moved around to the driver’s side, got behind the wheel, and started the car.
Before long, they entered the expressway.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence inside the car became almost oppressive.
Tokyo’s urban sprawl had long since expanded outward toward Yokohama, leaving little obvious separation between the two cities.
Apartment blocks, offices, shops, and roads simply continued from one district into the next.
Under Watanabe’s steady driving, they soon reached central Yokohama.
The Toyota stopped beside an abandoned building.
Sherlock stepped out.
Faded lettering and childish decorations were still visible across several of the windows.
Yasuda Pediatric Clinic.
Even after years of neglect, the name could still be made out.
Watanabe reached inside his jacket and handed Sherlock a thin folder.
“Mr.
Sherlock, this contains the intelligence gathered by the Windows regarding today’s target.” Sherlock accepted it and skimmed through the pages.
The information was almost identical to what Yaga had already told him.
He handed the folder back.
Then he nodded.
Watanabe understood immediately.
He gave Sherlock another small bow.
“Good luck.” Only then did the assistant supervisor raise his hands and begin forming the signs for a Curtain.
His voice became solemn.
“Emerge from darkness, blacker than darkness.” A shadow began spreading across the sky.
“Purify that which is impure.”