Early the next morning, Sherlock was sleeping comfortably beneath the warm kotatsu when a relentless barrage of doorbell rings dragged him out of his dreams.
“Who is it?” Still carrying the full fury of someone who had just been woken up, Sherlock shouted impatiently toward the front door.
He crawled out from beneath the warm kotatsu, immediately shivered from head to toe, and started cursing even louder.
After slowly wrapping himself in a thick robe, Sherlock shuffled toward the entrance with his hair sticking out in every direction like a dandelion.
“Who is it?” “Good morning, Mr.
Sherlock.
We received your registration for yesterday’s fan appreciation event, so we’ve come by to verify your information in person.” A calm male voice answered from outside.
Sherlock froze.
A giant question mark practically appeared over his head.
What?
Were fan-event organizers this insanely efficient nowadays?
He had only filled out the registration form last night!
He had even lied about his age so he could pass the screening process!
Wasn’t this response speed a little ridiculous?
Sherlock was so stunned that his brain briefly stopped working altogether.
Several seconds passed before he finally snapped back to reality.
“Wait, wait, wait!
Give me a minute!
I need to get ready!” The moment he finished speaking, Sherlock rushed back into the house in a panic.
He fixed his appearance while frantically stuffing anything remotely related to his middle school uniform into a closet, terrified that whoever was outside might realize he’d falsified his age.
After several minutes of complete chaos, Sherlock finally emerged wearing a neat suit.
He had even combed his hair into what he considered a mature, adult-looking style.
With an excited heart and trembling hands, Sherlock pasted a slightly suspicious smile onto his face and opened the front door.
Then he saw a white-haired man in dark sunglasses standing outside, desperately covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing.
Sherlock’s expression froze.
Gojo Satoru.
Damn it.
No matter how he looked at it, the white-haired man standing in front of him was one of the people Sherlock least wanted to meet in this world.
Which was incredibly ironic considering that, before transmigrating, Sherlock had actually been a pretty serious Gojo fan for quite a while.
Seeing the corners of Gojo’s mouth twitch upward as he struggled to suppress his laughter, even Sherlock could tell he’d been played by this irritating white-haired cat.
His face immediately darkened.
Without saying another word, he tried to slam the door shut.
Unfortunately, before he could close it completely, Gojo casually reached out and caught the door with one hand.
The instant his palm touched it, Sherlock felt as though someone had welded the entire thing into place.
No matter how hard he pushed, the normally smooth-moving door refused to budge even a millimeter.
Sherlock was stubborn, though.
He had immediately realized that there was absolutely no chance his physical strength could compete with the damned white-haired monster standing outside.
That didn’t mean he stopped trying.
Meanwhile, Gojo simply stood there wearing the most infuriating grin imaginable, watching Sherlock strain so hard that veins were beginning to stand out along his neck.
The ridiculous deadlock continued for nearly five minutes.
Eventually, Sherlock gave up.
He released the door, stepped backward, and stared emotionlessly at Gojo.
“What do you want?” Gojo pulled out his phone.
“Sherlock.
Sixteen years old.
Your father was a British expatriate, your mother was Japanese.
They both died in a traffic accident four years ago and left you a fairly substantial inheritance.” Sherlock’s eyelid twitched.
Gojo continued reading with obvious amusement.
“You’re currently finishing middle school.” He scrolled down.
“And last night at exactly 8:37 p.m., you registered for Professor Gunshima’s fan appreciation event?” Gojo looked up from his phone, the teasing expression on his face becoming increasingly obvious.
Then he put the phone away and added in an unbearably smug tone, “You’re still a minor, you know.” He leaned slightly closer.
“Gojo-sensei understands that teenagers have all kinds of…
youthful interests, but lying about your age isn’t very responsible, is it?” Watching Gojo deliberately twist around like some overly dramatic teenage girl, Sherlock silently pulled out his own phone.
He dialed a number.
“Hello?
Yes, I’d like to report someone.” Gojo’s smile froze.
“Yes.
There’s a suspicious white-haired man standing outside my house.” Sherlock spoke smoothly and calmly.
“He somehow obtained all of my personal information without my permission.
My address is XXXXXX.” Gojo stared at him.
“Yes, that’s correct.
He hasn’t entered the house.” Sherlock glanced toward Gojo’s hand, which was still holding the door open.
“But he forcibly prevented me from closing my front door, and he’s currently standing in the entrance.” A pause.
“No, he hasn’t explicitly threatened my physical safety yet.” Another pause.
Sherlock’s expression remained perfectly serious.
“However, I strongly suspect he may be interested either in my body or in the inheritance my parents left me.” Gojo Satoru, who had only recently started working as a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, stared at Sherlock in complete disbelief.
The expression on his face made it look as though someone had hit him with his own Unlimited Void.
Did Sherlock stop there?
Of course not.
His house happened to be located surprisingly close to a police station.
Sherlock hadn’t even finished the call before the distant sound of police sirens reached Gojo’s ears.
And so…
Gojo Satoru.
The strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern era.
Bearer of the Six Eyes.
Current head of the Gojo clan.
For the first time in his life, he experienced what it felt like to be treated as a suspicious adult harassing a minor and escorted into the back of a police car.
Half an hour later…
Inside the principal’s office at Tokyo Jujutsu High, Masamichi Yaga was working on one of his dolls when his phone suddenly rang.
He answered.
“What?” Yaga stopped moving.
“Arrested?” His expression slowly darkened.
“Yes.
Gojo Satoru is indeed one of our teachers.
He only recently joined the faculty, so perhaps he hasn’t quite learned how normal society works yet.” Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yes.
I apologize for the trouble he’s caused you.” Another pause.
“I’ll come pick him up immediately.” The instant the call ended, a massive vein bulged on Yaga’s forehead.
His face became so dark it looked almost charred.
Yaga already had the intimidating appearance of a yakuza boss on an ordinary day.
Right now, he looked like the kind of man who ran an entire criminal syndicate and personally handled anyone who failed him.
At that exact moment, someone knocked on the office door.
Shoko Ieiri stepped inside carrying a stack of documents.
She paused when she saw Yaga’s expression.
“Sensei, did something happen?” There was a trace of confusion in her voice, though almost no genuine surprise appeared on her face.
After all, there were only a handful of people capable of making Yaga look this furious.
And she could already guess which idiot was responsible.
“Nothing important.” Yaga stood up and grabbed the coat hanging over the back of his chair.
“Gojo Satoru was taken to the police station for allegedly harassing a minor.” Shoko blinked.
Yaga continued toward the door.
“I have to go get him released.” He gestured toward her documents.
“Just leave those on my desk.
Thanks, Shoko.” Then he walked out.
Shoko remained standing there with the stack of papers in her arms.
A question mark seemed to slowly appear above her head.
Gojo?
Arrested?
For harassing a minor?
Several seconds passed.
Then understanding finally hit her.
Shoko calmly placed the documents on Yaga’s desk.
Immediately afterward, she pulled out her phone at lightning speed.
There was absolutely no way she was keeping news this incredible to herself.
Gojo Satoru got arrested by the police.
Shoko decided she could laugh about this for at least an entire year.