All you could say was that not a single minute your Uncle Ijichi had spent serving as a cat teaser had been wasted. He understood Sherlock and Satoru Gojo, that Dickhead Cat master-and-student pair, all too well.
He even dragged Okkotsu back to the convenience store to buy two ice cream bars. The two of them stood a short distance from the car, eating their ice cream as they watched it rock nonstop.
It was quite a while after they finished their ice cream before the car finally stopped rocking.
Satoru Gojo stepped out of the driver's seat, refreshed in body and mind. After straightening his clothes, he looked at the two standing nearby and waved them over cheerfully, then settled himself into the back seat.
Seeing Gojo's signal, Ijichi finally let out a somewhat helpless sigh and called Okkotsu over to get in.
As soon as he got in, Okkotsu saw Sherlock slumped in the passenger seat, his face covered in bruises and his head covered in lumps. The engineering-plastic dashboard on the passenger side was riddled with fist marks, and even the passenger seat had quite a few scratches.
Leaving aside Sherlock's miserable state, the car's Syrian-war-damage aesthetic alone nearly made Yuta Okkotsu's eyes pop out. Through the rearview mirror, he looked at Ijichi, who was buckling his seat belt with grief and heartache written all over his face, and Okkotsu's own expression could not have been stranger.
Despite having spent little time with Okkotsu, Ijichi read exactly what Okkotsu was expressing with his face.
Was this really normal?
You'd get used to it.
Ijichi sighed helplessly, answering Okkotsu's question with his own face. And Okkotsu actually understood, which only made his expression more complicated.
Gojo ignored the sighing Ijichi and gave the driver's seat a somewhat irritated