Faced with Sherlock's argument, Satoru Gojo momentarily had no idea what expression to make, and simply stared at Sherlock with tiny, beady eyes.
Sherlock paid no attention whatsoever to the expression on Satoru Gojo's face and kept talking nonstop.
"Look, if I choose a technical high school-a vocational school-then that's all my educational qualifications will amount to. Even if I pursue further education, I'll have to move up to a junior college before finally entering an undergraduate program and earning a bachelor's degree.
If I get into a regular high school, I can skip junior college altogether, go straight into an undergraduate program, and earn a bachelor's degree!
Society is cruel. You absolutely cannot get by without a degree!
Besides, even if I enroll at Jujutsu High, I currently know nothing about the educational pathway afterward. Is there a jujutsu junior college? A jujutsu undergraduate program? Or jujutsu master's students? Doctoral students?
As a good student, I don't want my academic record to end at a technical high school."
At this point, Sherlock looked at Satoru Gojo's head, which had already begun to smoke, and casually twisted the knife.
"You keep saying you're a teacher at Jujutsu High, but judging by your performance so far, my dear Teacher Gojo, forgive me for asking: do you have a teaching license?"
After hearing Sherlock's barrage of questions, Satoru Gojo looked as though he had been hit by Unlimited Void. Never mind a teaching license-the jujutsu junior colleges and undergraduate programs Sherlock mentioned were paths he had never even imagined.
For a moment, Satoru Gojo even felt enlightened. He had to admit, a fresh brain really did work wonders!
Ignoring Sherlock's many questions, Satoru Gojo flashed a brilliant smile and answered him in a slightly flippant tone.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Xia-chan~ But if you don't enroll, your photos and kinks will be played on a loop on every advertising screen across Japan~"
(♯｀∧´)
That goddamn Dickhead Cat!
I fucking talked my head off, and all you can do is threaten me, you Dickhead Cat?
What could Sherlock do? He could only tearfully agree to Satoru Gojo's demand that he enroll, truly becoming Satoru Gojo's very first disciple.
At the end of the day, Sherlock was still a normal person, but there was absolutely no guarantee that Satoru Gojo was one too.
If this guy said he would run those ads, he really would dare to do it, and he had the money to pull it off! Setting aside whether the ads would leave Sherlock socially dead, they would certainly destroy his chances of finding a partner.
He couldn't spend his entire life making guest appearances at fan appreciation festivals, could he?
Sherlock was almost ready to die.
Of course, there were some benefits. At least the mission bonuses were fairly generous... That was the only consolation Sherlock could find for himself.
As for his uniform, Sherlock fought tooth and nail and finally wrested the right to design it from that goddamn Dickhead Cat. Considering that he might have to face those eye-searing Cursed Spirits in the future, Sherlock decisively designed his uniform as sportswear.
The top was simply a hoodie, paired with loose, cuffed sweatpants, while for footwear, he ordered a pair of military boots online that offered good support and protection.
He had to admit, Jujutsu High really was efficient. Sherlock received his uniform early the next morning, along with a look of utter disdain from Satoru Gojo.
And Sherlock also learned why Jujutsu High was so efficient.
I'm the only fucking student in the whole fucking school right now! It'd be a fucking miracle if they weren't efficient!
That white-haired teacher standing in front of him had fucking graduated in 2008, and it was now 2010. In other words, the white-haired pervert standing at the lectern who had forced him to enroll was actually an upperclassman only a few years ahead of him!
Was this right?
Looking at Sherlock sitting below him, wanting to cry but unable to shed a tear, Satoru Gojo's lips curved in amusement as he stood at the lectern.
How should he put it? The situation really did have something to do with him.
After graduating, Satoru Gojo had returned to the Gojo Clan, spent a year putting the clan in order, and inherited the position of clan head. Then, as head of the Gojo Clan, he had demanded to become a teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Those old fossils at Jujutsu Headquarters knew exactly what Satoru Gojo was like, and they knew they had no way to refuse him. So, after reluctantly agreeing to his demand, they had frantically thrown obstacles in his path behind the scenes.
The result was that, of the two jujutsu high schools, Kyoto Jujutsu High was bustling with people, while Tokyo Jujutsu High had only him, a commander without an army.
If he hadn't discovered Sherlock, an unpolished gem hiding his abilities, with his Six Eyes while on a mission, he might not have had a single student this year!
But Satoru Gojo certainly wasn't going to tell Sherlock any of that. After dumping a huge pile of Jujutsu High textbooks on him, Satoru Gojo ran off with a grin.
Sherlock was left sitting alone in a classroom with no one but himself. Looking at the plaque above the blackboard that read, "Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one," he began regretting his decision to accept Satoru Gojo's enrollment invitation for the 521st time.
Did you know what was even worse?
After dumping all the basics on Sherlock, that goddamn Dickhead Cat not only made him study on his own, but also made him take exams!
That was right. Sherlock had to teach himself!
And take exams afterward!
Seriously, after all the years Sherlock had spent at school across both his lives, he had never suffered such injustice.
Could this even fucking be called teaching?
The good news was that, with that Dickhead Cat gone, things really were much quieter for Sherlock. And Satoru Gojo hadn't actually left Sherlock entirely to his own devices; he had asked Shoko to help with Sherlock's "studies."
The bad news was that Shoko was currently preparing for her medical licensing exam and was so buried in her own studies that she had very little time to spare for teaching Sherlock theory. Sherlock also had to help Shoko out in the infirmary from time to time.
When Sherlock, an all-around model youth, saw a corpse for the first time-and one that had died so horrifically, at that-he threw up so hard he lost all sense of his surroundings. Fortunately, he slowly grew used to it, and Shoko could even occasionally use autopsies as an opportunity to teach Sherlock a little medical knowledge.
And after learning about Sherlock's Cursed Technique, Shoko would sometimes tell him embarrassing stories about Satoru Gojo's student days when he ran errands for her and she was in a good mood, even providing photos as proof.
Sherlock gained a great deal from this, and even saved quite a bit of his teacher's embarrassing history.
Shoko never stopped him. She even seemed rather pleased to see it happen. After all, she had long since realized that this "very first disciple" of her classmate was clearly someone who could get along with those two scumbags.
In short, Sherlock appeared to be a complete and utter scumbag too!