In the end, Sherlock failed to escape the miserable fate of going on missions with Satoru Gojo. Gojo grabbed him by the fateful back of his collar and hauled him out like a kitten.
The good news was that Gojo's workload had yet to reach the level it would a few years later, when he was like a shuttlecock come to life and slept only four hours a day.
The bad news was: nine to nine, six days a week!
Sherlock was numb!
Could you imagine Satoru Gojo-the head of the Gojo Clan, the strongest man in Jujutsu Society, a super-rich heir in his twenties with godlike looks-being a fucking corporate slave working nine to nine, six days a week?
By the end of the day, aside from the frantic increase in his marked locations, Sherlock was a wreck.
Most importantly, those Old Orange-Peels among the Higher-Ups were being a little too inhuman.
It was only because Sherlock wasn't Satoru Gojo. If those Old Orange-Peels had dared give him mission intel like that, he would absolutely have found a way to leave beacons on them, then teleported straight under their covers while they slept.
He would grab what few whiskers those Old Orange-Peels had left, pull out that damned mission intel, and make them explain exactly what the fuck they meant by unknown grade, unknown number, and unknown location.
The crucial thing was that Gojo, that honest boy, actually saw nothing wrong with these damned missions. He even looked enthusiastic.
So when Gojo hauled Sherlock out of bed early the next morning, Sherlock promptly bristled.
"My dear Teacher Gojo, I think I need to teach you a little about labor law. And I need to teach those Old Orange-Peels a little about laws protecting minors."
"Lastly, Teacher Gojo, I suggest you don't stop at a Jujutsu High education. Ideally, go to university or something and get a bachelor's degree. Personally, I recommend studying more law and the like."
Sitting in the cafeteria, Sherlock spoke to Gojo with a serious expression as he ate. Gojo, however, paid no mind to his reaction, stuffing daifuku into his mouth while watching Sherlock with a puzzled, catlike expression.
Seeing him like that, Sherlock sighed helplessly. After draining the last mouthful of miso soup from his bowl, he looked at the Dickhead Cat across from him and said helplessly,
"Teacher, if you had a little more education, you wouldn't be getting bullied like this by those Old Orange-Peels at Jujutsu Headquarters, would you? Never mind these nine-to-nine, six-day workweeks. How is that damned mission intel any different from knowing nothing?"
Gojo paused at Sherlock's complaints, then actually laughed without thinking. Only after a good while did he stand and ruffle Sherlock's hair, telling him with sunny confidence,
"It's fine. Your teacher is the strongest! Even when it comes to gathering intel, I'm still the strongest!"
As he spoke, he mercilessly slapped away the wicked little hand Sherlock had extended toward the last edamame whipped-cream daifuku on his plate. Under Sherlock's helpless eye roll, he snatched the daifuku and stuffed it into his mouth.
Only after swallowing it did Gojo continue with a smile,
"All right, stop complaining. Situations like yesterday are rare, after all. I was just letting you get used to the pace. Today, I'll show you what my missions are really like."
That made Sherlock pause. What did he mean, what his missions were really like? Didn't Jujutsu Sorcerers just fight Cursed Spirits? Were yesterday's bizarrely shaped Cursed Spirits, with their wildly varied abilities and a special trick each, not enough? Were there situations even more absurd than that?
Sherlock couldn't understand. Sherlock was deeply shocked. Sherlock was full of questions.
Seeing the odd expression on Sherlock's face, Gojo grew a little more serious for once. He raised one finger and explained,
"Yaga doesn't want you exposed to this stuff so soon, but I think your mental state is perfectly up to it! Sherlock, you need to know that Jujutsu Sorcerers don't just deal with Cursed Spirits. We also deal with Curse Users.
"Those Cursed Spirits you saw yesterday, almost all of which had a special trick, are actually what everyday life in Jujutsu Society looks like. They were only assigned to me because I clear them out the fastest.
"But in reality, as a Special Grade Sorcerer, aside from the genuinely hard-to-handle Special Grade Cursed Spirits, most of my missions actually involve Curse Users."
At this point, Gojo's expression darkened a little. He looked somewhat hesitant, but in the end, he still continued,
"And some disgusting things spawned by ignorant malice."
Gojo's expression was somewhat grave as he said this, as though he had remembered something. Yet as he spoke, his eyes, like an expanse of sky, stared fixedly through his sunglasses at Sherlock's expression.
Sherlock paused at Gojo's words, but the reaction that followed surprised even Gojo a little.
After hearing him out, Sherlock stood with an expression full of distaste and disdain, and even a hint of pity, then patted Gojo on the shoulder.
"Teacher, I told you the Higher-Ups were exploiting you, but you wouldn't believe me. Read more books!"
With that, Sherlock turned and left. Once Gojo recovered, he watched Sherlock's retreating back, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, then shouted after him as though they were being parted by life and death,
"Xia-chan~ Where are you going? Don't abandon Satoru-chan~"
Without even turning his head, Sherlock waved helplessly and told Gojo,
"Back to my room to get something. See you at the school gates in ten minutes."
With that, he activated his Cursed Technique and left.
"That little brat! I told Yaga he was nothing like Geto or me, but he was still worried about the kid's mental state."
Looking at the empty cafeteria doorway, Gojo cursed with a helpless laugh. Mumbling to himself, he cradled his head in his hands and strode toward the school gates on his long legs.
At the school gates, the newly graduated Kiyotaka Ijichi, Gojo's personal assistant supervisor, was already waiting by the car door.
Seeing Gojo approach with his hands behind his head, Ijichi gave him a nervous little bow.
"Senior Gojo, everything is ready. Where is Mr. Sherlock? Do we need to wait for him?"
At the sight of Ijichi's nervousness, Gojo mischievously threw an arm around this junior two school years below him and deliberately spoke very loudly to poor Ijichi.
"Now, now, Ijichi, what on earth are you talking about? Hasn't Sherlock been sitting in the car for ages? If you keep being this careless, I'll have to slap you~"
At Gojo's words, Ijichi looked inside the car, only to find Sherlock already sitting at ease in the back seat, though he had no idea when he had arrived. Sherlock was looking through the window with undisguised distaste at Gojo, who was busy scaring Ijichi.
"Yes! Sorry!"
Startled, Ijichi nervously gave a stiff bow, then slipped unobtrusively out from under Gojo's arm and jogged all the way around to the driver's seat.
Watching this, Sherlock rolled his eyes so hard they nearly reached the sky. He really couldn't be bothered with this thoroughly mischievous Dickhead Cat.