Satoru Gojo and Sherlock fled that very night, without even packing their luggage. After Yaga finished lecturing them, neither hesitated for a second. Sherlock laid a hand on Satoru Gojo's shoulder, and the two vanished on the spot.
Watching the master and disciple disappear, Masamichi Yaga seemed to age more than ten years in an instant. Heaven only knew what sins he had committed in his previous life to end up meeting these two dickhead cats.
Truly, slaughter pigs in one life, teach in the next. Masamichi Yaga seriously suspected that all the pigs he had slaughtered in his previous life had gathered together and coalesced into Satoru Gojo and Sherlock, this master-disciple pair, to torment an old man like him in this life.
Of course, Masamichi Yaga was not the only one feeling miserable. There were also the five students across Jujutsu High's first and second years.
Did you know the despair of dreaming all night about being chased by enormous house centipedes, waking up utterly pale and listless, and then remembering that you still had to visit that goddamned insect factory today?
And that was not even the most despair-inducing part. The worst part was that their teacher and their eldest fellow disciple had actually fucking run away!
Some Over-Cursed Vengeful Spirit, some fucking assignment from the Higher-Ups, some fucking only suitable candidates.
Excuses. Every damn bit of it was an excuse!
Although Masamichi Yaga explained where Satoru Gojo and Sherlock had gone, unfortunately, not one of the five students believed him. As they headed toward that damned school bus, every one of them wore a teeth-grinding expression.
But the most despairing were not them. They were Kusakabe and Shoko.
Seriously, the two of them were just bystanders! Why did they have to take part in that damned