The disappearance of that forum post was, unsurprisingly, the work of the jujutsu higher-ups.
As for why those same higher-ups would suddenly help Gojo Satoru protect his reputation?
Best not to ask.
Not everyone had the courage to stare down an enraged Gojo while pretending they weren’t intimidated.
Especially when the expression on his face clearly said: Either you erase this nonsense, or I erase you and go ask Suguru Geto for help instead.
Naturally, forcing the higher-ups to delete the post was only the beginning of Gojo’s desperate campaign to salvage his reputation.
The moment that was handled, he rushed back to Jujutsu High to negotiate with Shoko.
The final agreement was simple.
Gojo would treat her to dessert three times.
In exchange, Shoko promised not to comment on the incident again, spread any more rumors, or provide additional photographs to interested parties.
Only then did Gojo reluctantly let the matter go.
But there was still one person left.
The true source of all this disaster.
His treacherous student.
Sherlock.
Gojo stormed into Sherlock’s dorm in the middle of the night, dragged him straight out of bed, planted both fists against either side of his head, and began grinding them mercilessly against his temples.
“Gojo Secret Art: Double-Knuckle Head Drill!” “AAAAAAAGH!” Sherlock had already been beaten by Gojo that morning.
Then lectured by Yaga all afternoon.
He hadn’t even found time to visit Shoko and have his injuries treated properly.
And now, just as he’d finally fallen asleep, his shameless teacher had yanked him out of bed and started torturing him again.
Something inside Sherlock finally broke.
This damned white-haired cat had ruined one opportunity after another!
This time, Sherlock had lost his chance to attend the collaboration event featuring both the glamorous gyaru model and the elegant short-haired beauty he’d been looking forward to meeting.
At this point, Sherlock was genuinely beginning to wonder whether fate itself had decided that he and Gojo were fundamentally incompatible.
And now, when Sherlock had finally chosen to let the whole thing go, Gojo had barged into his room, interrupted a perfectly good dream involving his favorite performers, and started drilling his fists into Sherlock’s skull.
Enough.
Sherlock stopped thinking entirely.
With a furious roar, he tore himself free from Gojo’s grip, spun around, and threw a punch straight at his teacher’s face.
Gojo hadn’t expected such an explosive reaction.
Still, he was the strongest sorcerer of the modern era.
His pure hand-to-hand skill might not have been quite as polished as Suguru Geto’s, but dealing with a beginner like Sherlock was still effortless.
Gojo casually brushed Sherlock’s fist aside.
Then he countered with a punch toward Sherlock’s stomach.
Normally, Sherlock would’ve thought about avoiding it.
Or teleporting.
Or repositioning.
Not tonight.
His mind was completely blank except for one thing.
Hit this bastard.
Sherlock crossed his arms and absorbed Gojo’s punch directly.
The impact launched him backward.
Instead of collapsing, Sherlock planted both feet against the wall, compressed his body for an instant, and kicked off.
He shot right back toward Gojo.
Gojo’s eyebrows rose.
He had originally intended to rough Sherlock up a little, call the score even, and move on.
Now?
He was interested.
The two began trading blows properly.
Punches.
Elbows.
Blocks.
Counters.
Sherlock kept pressing.
Gojo kept answering.
Their fight spilled out of the dorm room, through the corridor, and eventually onto the training field.
Somewhere along the way, Sherlock instinctively began reinforcing himself with cursed energy.
Gojo followed suit.
The moment cursed energy entered the exchange, the intensity of their fight rose sharply.
Anyone watching would’ve immediately noticed the difference between them.
Gojo was relaxed.
Completely in control.
Sherlock looked like his life depended on landing a single punch.
And in Sherlock’s mind, it practically did.
He had only one goal.
Just once.
Today, he was going to hit that damned white-haired cat.
Sometimes fate worked in ridiculous ways.
Flying Thunder God normally made Black Flash unusually difficult for Sherlock.
His technique required constant awareness.
Marks.
Distances.
Angles.
Teleportation points.
Escape routes.
Too much thought.
Black Flash demanded something almost opposite.
A moment of total immersion.
No hesitation.
No distraction.
Just combat.
Tonight was different.
After having one dream after another ruined, Sherlock had finally become too angry to think.
Even using cursed energy had become instinctive.
No calculations.
No Flying Thunder God.
No escape plan.
Nothing except the opponent standing in front of him.
Sherlock stepped in and threw another punch.
Then…
Black lightning flashed around his fist.
Gojo’s Six Eyes widened.
For perhaps the first time all night, his face showed genuine shock.
Jujutsu society had seen all kinds of bizarre cursed techniques.
And those techniques naturally produced equally bizarre sorcerers.
But a student entering the zone and triggering Black Flash because he’d missed a fan event?
That had to be rare even by jujutsu standards.
Gojo barely had time to process it.
Sherlock’s fist was already coming.
He could have stopped it with Infinity.
He didn’t.
Infinity would prevent the strike from actually connecting, which meant Sherlock’s first Black Flash would collapse before completion.
There was no chance Gojo was wasting that moment.
More importantly…
Gojo had never personally experienced what being hit by Black Flash felt like.
And now he was curious.
He crossed both arms in front of himself and reinforced them with cursed energy.
Sherlock’s fist landed.
BLACK FLASH!
Black lightning exploded through the training field.
The impact was far beyond Sherlock’s normal striking power.
Gojo was launched backward, smashed through part of the dormitory building, and disappeared into a cloud of shattered glass and broken wood.
Silence.
Then someone coughed.
Gojo stepped back through the wreckage.
There was blood at the corner of his mouth.
And he was smiling.
Actually, no.
He looked thrilled.
Reverse Cursed Technique surged through him, repairing the damage almost immediately.
Then he vanished.
A moment later, Gojo was back on the training field.
Sherlock’s eyes were already red with fury.
He saw Gojo return.
That was enough.
Sherlock charged again.
Landing a Black Flash had changed something.
For a brief period afterward, cursed energy felt almost impossibly natural.
Every movement made sense.
Every ounce of cursed energy seemed to obey his body without resistance.
Sherlock unconsciously entered the zone.
His fist tightened.
Tiny arcs of black lightning appeared around his knuckles again.
Across from him, Gojo’s expression changed.
He had just experienced Black Flash firsthand.
With the Six Eyes, his absurd learning ability, and his near-perfect cursed energy control, understanding what had happened wasn’t particularly difficult.
He raised his own fist.
Black sparks began gathering around it.
Sherlock didn’t slow down.
Neither did Gojo.
Their voices rang out at the same moment.
“Black Flash!” BOOM!
Their fists struck each other’s faces.
Black lightning erupted from both impacts almost simultaneously.
Sherlock went flying in one direction.
Gojo went flying in the other.
Gojo smashed through the dormitory again, destroying several windows and at least one door on the way through.
Sherlock disappeared into the nearby trees.
By this point, Yaga and Shoko had already rushed outside after hearing the commotion.
They stood there in silence.
One looked toward the hole Gojo had just made in the building.
The other looked toward the forest where Sherlock had vanished.
Then they looked at each other.
Neither knew what to say.
Especially about Sherlock.
Was he a genius?
He’d awakened Black Flash because he was furious about missing a fan event.
Was he an idiot?
He’d just landed Black Flash.
Twice.
And somehow dragged Gojo into landing one as well.
There really wasn’t an appropriate response to that.
In the end, the entire situation produced only two things.
More overtime for Shoko.
And one furious roar from Masamichi Yaga that shook half the campus.
“SHERLOCK!” “GOJO SATORU!!!!!!!!”