Gojo Satoru stealing Sherlock’s precious collection was bad enough.
The real problem was that Gojo, sheltered Six Eyes genius that he was, had absolutely no idea just how obsessed his student was with these fan events.
Still carrying Sherlock’s cardboard box, Gojo teleported back to the Gojo estate using Blue.
He had two reasons for going.
First, he needed to return Sayafushi, the Grade 1 cursed tool he’d borrowed from the family’s storage.
Second, he wanted to find something suitable for Sherlock to carry all those custom-made spikes in.
Perfectly reasonable.
Unfortunately, Gojo wasn’t just the head of the clan.
To the Gojo family, he was practically sacred.
The bearer of the Six Eyes.
Their once-in-centuries prodigy.
So the moment Gojo casually handed over Sherlock’s box and asked someone to organize the weapons inside, the clan members treated the request with extreme seriousness.
Gojo himself never noticed the layer of reinforced cardboard Sherlock had used to hide his collectibles underneath the weapons.
Which meant that when a young clan member began sorting everything, he eventually uncovered the stash at the bottom.
And that was where things went wrong.
The young man happened to be a devoted admirer of Gojo.
More importantly…
He happened to share some of Sherlock’s interests.
The moment he saw the neatly stacked collector’s editions hidden beneath the weapons, inspiration struck.
So this is what the Clan Head wanted.
Naturally, there was no possible way the great Gojo Satoru would openly admit to wanting something like this.
Clearly, he had hidden them there deliberately.
Clearly, this was a subtle request.
And clearly, as a loyal clan member, it was his duty to handle the matter discreetly.
So he did.
Very discreetly.
Sherlock’s instincts, as it turned out, had been completely correct.
Among the mountain of limited-edition releases he’d purchased…
There really was an invitation.
One of only three.
And thanks to one extremely enthusiastic Gojo clansman, the information filled out on that invitation was not Sherlock’s.
It was Gojo Satoru’s.
The completed form was mailed out in absolute secrecy.
Gojo knew none of this.
The funniest part was that when the young clansman later brought him the finished carrying pouch, Gojo happened to be in a good mood.
The pouch itself was a Grade 2 cursed tool with a minor spatial property, allowing it to hold far more than its size suggested.
Gojo took it, gave the young man a casual pat on the shoulder, and said something like, “Nice work.” Then he teleported away.
To the young clansman, this was unmistakable confirmation.
The Clan Head approved.
And so, through a chain of completely ridiculous misunderstandings, the personal information of Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the modern era, ended up on the desk of a production company.
Now, everyone who knew Gojo understood one thing.
Ignoring his personality…
His looks were unfair.
The production staff nearly lost their minds.
The moment they saw his application photo and information, several people became convinced they’d stumbled onto a marketing miracle.
They immediately began discussing promotional plans.
With a face like that, they wouldn’t just attract their existing male audience.
They could pull in a huge female audience too.
Maybe even expand the entire brand.
And Gojo Satoru…
Knew absolutely none of this.
Once he’d gotten the new cursed-tool pouch, he happily returned to Jujutsu High and went straight to Sherlock, fully expecting praise.
Instead, Sherlock stared at him like he wanted him dead.
Gojo held out the pouch.
“Ta-da!” Sherlock snatched it out of his hand.
Then slammed the dorm-room door directly in his face.
Gojo blinked.
A second later, a miserable howl came from inside.
It was accompanied by some tragically dramatic music Sherlock had apparently started playing for emotional support.
Gojo stood outside the door.
Something felt wrong.
He couldn’t figure out what.
Eventually, he decided Sherlock was simply being ungrateful.
Fine.
Tomorrow’s training would be extra intense.
The next morning, teacher and student arrived at the training field in completely opposite states.
Gojo looked fantastic.
Bright smile.
Plenty of energy.
Completely refreshed.
Sherlock looked like he’d just gone through a terrible breakup.
Before either of them could begin training, Gojo’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered immediately.
The caller barely managed to say that they were already at the school entrance before Gojo’s patience ran out.
He assumed it was probably another message from the higher-ups.
So he hung up.
Then he called Yaga.
“Someone’s at the gate.
Can you deal with it?” Without waiting for much of an answer, Gojo turned back toward Sherlock.
He had a student to torment.
By the time Sherlock finished ten laps as a warm-up, Gojo was just getting ready for some proper hand-to-hand sparring.
Then Yaga appeared.
His expression was strange.
Very strange.
Behind him were two women…
Along with an entire production crew.
Gojo stared.
Sherlock stared.
The two women stared at Gojo.
And visibly brightened.
Apparently, what had originally been intended as a basic preliminary meeting had escalated the moment the staff saw Gojo’s application.
Aka-sensei and Kunjima-sensei had both decided to come personally.
Even Kunjima, who had technically already seen Gojo once before, seemed considerably more interested this time.
Apparently, experience didn’t make anyone immune to an absurdly handsome man.
The group stood at the edge of the training field looking at Gojo as though someone had just handed them the perfect model for a campaign.
Gojo, meanwhile, had absolutely no idea what was going on.
Yaga tried to settle the visitors down first.
Then he marched over to Gojo.
Without warning…
THUNK!
Yaga drove a fist into his head.
“Ow!” Gojo clutched the new bump forming there.
Yaga grabbed him by the collar.
His expression looked as though he were fighting for his life.
“Satoru.” Gojo blinked.
“You’re an adult now.” “…Yeah?” Yaga’s grip tightened.
“If you have…
certain interests, that’s your business.” Gojo’s expression became even more confused.
“But you cannot use Jujutsu High’s address for this!” Gojo stared.
Yaga continued through clenched teeth.
“Jujutsu sorcerers are supposed to remain hidden from ordinary society!” Gojo’s brain stopped.
What?
What was Yaga talking about?
Every individual word made sense.
Together?
Nothing.
Gojo looked like someone had just filled his head with Unlimited Void.
Yaga stared back.
Then Yaga also became confused.
Wait.
Why did Gojo genuinely look like he had no idea what was happening?
For several seconds, former teacher and former student simply stared at each other in complete bafflement.
Then a voice came from behind Gojo.
Low.
Furious.
Trembling with betrayal.
“Gojo Satoru…” Both men turned.
Sherlock stood there wearing his custom steel knuckle guards.
His entire face was filled with grief and rage.
“You stole my chance!” Gojo’s eyes widened.
Sherlock raised both fists.
“DIE, YOU DAMN WHITE-HAIRED THIEF!” He charged.
Yaga froze.
What did Sherlock have to do with this?!
Completely lost, he released Gojo’s collar and stepped back.
Gojo was equally confused.
Unfortunately for him, Sherlock was running on pure emotional damage.
And with Gojo still trying to understand what had happened…
Sherlock actually managed to make the opening exchange look surprisingly even.
Punch.
Block.
Kick.
Dodge.
Sherlock pressed forward with everything he had.
Gojo reacted mostly on instinct.
The two immediately fell into a fast, chaotic sparring match in the middle of the field.
The visiting women watched.
Their eyes grew brighter.
From their perspective, Gojo wasn’t merely handsome.
He could move.
Really move.
The entire exchange looked like professionally choreographed action footage.
Neither of them seemed particularly interested in asking why the younger boy was screaming accusations about stolen opportunities.
Nobody noticed Shoko watching from an upper-floor window nearby.
A cigarette rested between her lips.
She calmly raised her phone.
Click.
One photo.
Then she sent it directly to Utahime.
A reply arrived almost immediately.
Utahime: Is Gojo Satoru seriously trying to become a model?
Shoko looked down at the chaos.
Gojo dodging Sherlock.
Sherlock trying to murder him.
Yaga looking as though he regretted every life decision that had led him here.
The production crew watching with obvious excitement.
Shoko looked back at her phone.
Then at the training field.
Then back at her phone.
A wicked little smile appeared.
She typed a reply.
Shoko: Yeah.
A pause.
Then she added: Pretty much.