After slashing open the basement elevator doors and stepping inside, Sherlock was greeted by two rows of heads on shelves, each wearing a different expression.
Men, elderly people, women, children-there were all kinds, flanking Sherlock on either side. Yet all these heads shared one feature: every face was hideously contorted, and everything above the eyebrows had vanished without a trace.
The brains inside their heads were gone as well.
At the end of the passage, a pink mass the size of a water buffalo writhed continuously.
At first glance, Sherlock had been too shocked by the heads on the shelves to make out what that mass actually was. But when he took a second look and saw what the writhing thing was, he was so disgusted that he began regretting having looked closely at all.
It was simple: that was a brain the size of a water buffalo!
Unlike a normal brain, the folds on this enormous brain were not smooth like those of an ordinary brain. Instead, they were composed of contorted human faces.
Those faces constantly twisted and writhed along the folds of the cerebral cortex, looking eerie and revolting. For a moment, Sherlock could barely take it and even wondered whether he should call for backup.
At that moment, Sherlock sorely regretted that his cursed technique lacked ranged magical attacks like Satoru Gojo's Blue or Red.
After all, the mass before him really pushed the limits of what the human mind and sense of aesthetics could tolerate.
Just as Sherlock was wondering how to deal with this cursed spirit, which looked suspiciously like Brain's biological sibling by different parents, his head suddenly felt as though someone had struck it hard with a hammer.
The poisoning had already left him somewhat dazed, and with the added strain of running his cursed technique at full power, sheer determination was all that kept Sherlock conscious.
That sudden mental attack sent Sherlock straight to the floor.
The instant Sherlock fell, dense strands of flesh began emerging from the brain the size of a water buffalo. Like wriggling worms dancing disco, they advanced slowly but steadily toward the fallen Sherlock.
Sherlock could only watch helplessly as those disgusting, wormlike things approached. Never mind activating his cursed technique-he could not even move a finger.
Boundless despair began flooding Sherlock's heart like a tide. At the thought that, after his death, he too would become like the zombies upstairs, his body controlled by someone else and his soul possibly trapped inside that brain-shaped cursed spirit, waves of nausea rose within him.
Yet just as those wormlike strands of flesh were about to touch Sherlock, tremors came from the ceiling, growing stronger and stronger.
They grew so strong that not only did the brain-shaped cursed spirit stop moving, but Sherlock likewise stopped moving and looked toward the ceiling.
The next second, the pitch-black ceiling abruptly split open. Sunlight streamed through the cracks, and the first things Sherlock saw were the enormous blue orb floating in midair and the white-haired man hovering beneath it.
Illuminated by the light from outside, his white hair billowing, Satoru Gojo descended like a god at Sherlock's most desperate moment.
"Yo! My adorable Xia-chan! You're quite a mess!"
That flippant voice, tinged with irreverence, made Sherlock relax completely in an instant.
Taking advantage of the brain-shaped cursed spirit's roar as the sunlight struck it, Sherlock fought with everything he had to break free of that damned cursed spirit's control. After flipping off Satoru Gojo, who hovered in midair, his eyes rolled back and he passed out.
Sherlock had no idea what happened afterward.
By the time Sherlock regained consciousness, he was already lying in Shoko's infirmary.
Watching Sherlock struggle to open his eyes, Shoko calmly flipped through the report in her hand, a trace of reproach in her cool voice.
"A mind-controlling Grade 1 Cursed Spirit. You had a high fever when you got back, and you tested positive for rabies and tetanus. You've been unconscious for three days."
After saying that, Shoko casually tossed the medical record onto the desk, her expression growing increasingly impatient.
"Every last one of you just has to play tough and make more work for me! If you run into a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit on a Grade 2 mission, don't you know to run away? And those bastards at Window can't even get this little bit of intel right. Every last one of them is useless."
Faced with Shoko's anger, Sherlock did not dare say a word. All he could do was try to shrink under the covers and make himself less noticeable, terrified that his presence would further upset Shoko, his healer.
No matter which life he was living, one truth never changed: offend anyone you liked, but never upset the healer, especially when your life was in their hands...
Although Sherlock had done his best to make himself less noticeable, Shoko clearly had no intention of letting him off.
Seeing Sherlock hiding under the covers with his head in the sand, Shoko clicked her tongue irritably.
"For the next seven days, you'll come in every day for two vaccine shots, alongside treatment with Reverse Cursed Technique. No strenuous activity whatsoever during that time!"
Hearing Shoko's instructions, Sherlock threw back the covers in disbelief.
"Wait, if I remember correctly, aren't rabies shots supposed to be once a week?"
"You're a gorilla of a jujutsu sorcerer! Once a day. Any problems?"
As Shoko said this, a hint of murderous intent even appeared on her face. The sight made Sherlock's heart pound, and he promptly chose to retreat under the covers, not daring to say another word.
That should have been the end of it. Shoko could not be bothered with Sherlock anymore and was just about to leave the infirmary.
Just then, someone kicked the infirmary door open from outside, and Satoru Gojo slid in, grinning, in a ridiculous pose that looked like ballet dancing.
"Ta-da! The greatest teacher, Teacher Gojo, makes his dazzling entrance, and he's brought Xia-chan a surprise~"
The instant Satoru Gojo entered, Shoko's already unpleasant expression turned thunderous. She looked at Satoru Gojo and spoke in a flat monotone.
"Satoru, please turn off Limitless."
Satoru Gojo had not sensed anything amiss at all. Wearing a smile as though this were only natural, he opened his arms to Shoko.
"Shoko, have you finally remembered our bond as classmates? Come here, Satoru-chan's arms will always... urgh~"
Before that obnoxious cat could finish, Shoko delivered a textbook vertical-fist straight punch directly to Satoru Gojo's liver, her fist even coated in the cursed energy of Reverse Cursed Technique.
Not only did it heal him as she hit him, it also greatly strengthened Shoko's attack. That single punch sent Satoru Gojo flying squarely onto the bed beside Sherlock.
Sherlock could practically see Satoru Gojo's soul floating out of his mouth, but faced with a healer whose expression was thunderous, he did not dare say a word!
Ignoring Satoru Gojo, who lay sprawled on the bed, Shoko clapped her hands and left the room, looking thoroughly refreshed after that punch.
Only after watching Shoko leave did Sherlock dare poke his head out from under the covers and look at Satoru Gojo, who lay like a corpse on the bed.
"Teacher, what surprise did you bring?"
Without a word, Satoru Gojo rummaged inside his clothes and finally pulled out a student ID that had been shattered into pieces.
Looking at the pile of fragments in Satoru Gojo's hand, Sherlock fell silent once more, a rare occurrence. Ignoring that obnoxious cat's aggrieved, tearful, hug-begging expression, he sealed himself beneath the covers again.
Offend anyone but the healer!