It was nearly noon by the time Masamichi Yaga finally walked out of the police station.
Following behind him was Gojo Satoru, looking thoroughly annoyed and sporting a large bump on his head.
And behind Gojo came Sherlock, his expression completely blank.
Once all three had stepped outside, Yaga let out a weary sigh and turned toward Sherlock.
“I’m sorry for the trouble he caused you.” “Tch.” Gojo clicked his tongue in obvious dissatisfaction.
Yaga immediately shot him a warning glare.
Gojo wisely shut up.
Sherlock looked at the intimidating man in front of him, who looked more like a yakuza boss than an educator, then glanced at the white-haired idiot slouching behind him.
“So you two aren’t actually suspicious creeps.” He paused.
“You’re the principal and a teacher from a school called Tokyo Jujutsu High?” “Hey, hey.” Gojo leaned around Yaga’s shoulder.
“You can see curses, can’t you?
You’ve got an interesting cursed technique and cursed energy reserves that would make most sorcerers jealous.” He pointed at Sherlock.
“And you’re seriously telling me you’ve never heard of jujutsu sorcerers?” Yaga felt his blood pressure rise another notch.
He turned around, glared at Gojo, then deliberately ignored him.
“Yes,” Yaga said.
“Satoru approached you because he wanted to invite you to enroll at Tokyo Jujutsu High.” He sighed.
“This is his first year teaching, so his methods may have been somewhat…
excessive.” “Please forgive him.” Unlike Gojo, Yaga at least knew how to act like a reasonable adult.
Unfortunately, Sherlock’s answer was not what either of them expected.
He fell silent for a moment.
Then he looked at Yaga with complete seriousness.
“I’m sorry, but I refuse.” Yaga blinked.
Sherlock continued without hesitation.
“I have no interest in becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, and I definitely don’t want to spend my life fighting things that look like they crawled out of someone’s worst nightmare.” Gojo stared at him.
“Why?” Sherlock looked over.
“Your cursed technique is powerful,” Gojo said.
“And your cursed energy reserves are even greater than mine.” His confusion seemed genuine.
“What exactly are you worried about?” To Gojo, possessing that kind of power and having no desire to use it was almost impossible to understand.
Yet Sherlock was standing right in front of him, perfectly content to walk away from all of it.
“No special reason.” Sherlock shrugged.
“I don’t have a savior complex.
I’m not especially responsible, either.” “My only ambition is to live quietly, stay out of trouble, and hopefully enjoy the kind of peaceful life a dating-sim protagonist somehow falls into.” He frowned.
“And curses are revolting.
I’d rather not spend the rest of my life looking at things that make my skin crawl.” Gojo stared at him for several seconds.
Then his expression turned openly disdainful.
“Perverted brat.” “You’re barely older than me!” Sherlock snapped back immediately.
Annoyed, he even raised one hand and gave Gojo the middle finger.
Gojo froze.
Ever since becoming head of the Gojo clan and being recognized as the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, very few people had dared treat him this casually.
The last person who had been able to act this freely around him…
Had been Suguru Geto.
His former best friend.
“Interesting.” Gojo watched Sherlock turn around and start walking away.
The look on his face changed.
It was almost like a cat spotting a brand-new toy.
A lazy, slightly wicked smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Until now, Sherlock had merely caught his attention.
Now Gojo was genuinely interested.
Watching Sherlock’s retreating back, Gojo casually raised his phone and deliberately spoke loud enough for him to hear.
“Hello?
Ah, yeah.” He glanced toward Sherlock.
“Cancel that meet-and-greet with Kunjima-sensei later.” Sherlock’s footsteps stopped.
Gojo continued.
“Yeah, that one.” “What?” “The private fan session for selected applicants?” Sherlock slowly turned around.
“Cancel it.” Gojo did not even get to finish.
Sherlock vanished.
The next second, he appeared directly in front of Gojo.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, he dropped to his knees and wrapped both arms around Gojo’s leg.
“BOSS!” Sherlock looked up at him with complete sincerity.
“TAKE ME WITH YOU!” Gojo’s smile became radiant.
Still pretending to be on the phone, he deliberately raised his voice.
“Wait.” “Don’t cancel it.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah.
Keep the appointment.” Gojo looked down at him.
“And extend the time a little.
I’m bringing someone with me.” He nodded.
“Right.” Then he hung up.
Gojo looked at Sherlock with a smile that clearly said, Got you.
Sherlock immediately realized he had been tricked again.
But dignity?
What dignity?
He jumped back to his feet, placed one hand dramatically over his chest, and bowed like a knight swearing loyalty to his lord.
“I have wandered through life without ever finding a worthy patron.” He lifted his head solemnly.
“If you’re willing to take me under your wing, then from this day forward, I shall follow you with absolute devotion!” “HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Gojo burst into laughter.
Loud, arrogant, completely unrestrained laughter.
He looked so smug that he practically seemed to grow taller from it.
Neither of the two idiots noticed the dark aura gathering around Yaga beside them.
These two bastards…
Were standing directly outside a police station.
What the hell were they even talking about?
Yaga could already feel his fist, affectionately known as the Fist of Righteous Guidance, beginning to twitch.
For several seconds, he seriously considered using it.
Then he sighed.
His clenched fist slowly relaxed.
Ever since Suguru Geto had defected, it had been a long time since Yaga had heard Satoru laugh this freely.
Fine.
He could let it go this once.
If nothing else, his student seemed genuinely happy.
That was what Yaga told himself.
Unfortunately, as he watched Sherlock completely abandon any remaining sense of shame and begin enthusiastically negotiating the details of the fan meeting with Gojo, his blood pressure started climbing again.
How was he supposed to describe this feeling?
Based on everything he had endured while teaching Gojo Satoru, Yaga had no doubt that when the new school year began in April, Tokyo Jujutsu High was about to gain another student just as troublesome as Gojo himself.
Gojo had already been an absolute nightmare as a student.
Yaga had never imagined that the man’s very first disciple might somehow turn out even worse.
That was the truly terrifying part.
One walking disaster would have been bad enough.
Now the old disaster was going to personally train the new one.
Yaga suddenly felt that his position as principal was in serious danger.
His chest even started aching.
Maybe he really should ask Shoko to check him when he got back.
At this rate, he was beginning to wonder whether Gojo had finally given him heart problems.
Actually, diagnosis or not, keeping some emergency medication on hand sounded like a sensible precaution.
Come to think of it…
Had Shoko officially gotten her medical license yet?
And if she had, was she even allowed to prescribe anything for stress caused specifically by Gojo Satoru?
Yaga suddenly felt that this was a very important question.