Looking at Satoru Gojo standing at the lectern and grinning at him, Sherlock sympathized with Nanami's king-of-shit theory more than ever before.
Seriously, this white-haired guy made people ache for him through a screen, but meeting him in real life really made you want to punch him!
Naturally, Sherlock was no pushover either. The moment he realized he could do nothing against the white-haired guy before him, he tried to activate his cursed technique and flee.
Over the past two weeks, Sherlock had marked practically every inch of Tokyo Jujutsu High's grounds. Escaping would take nothing more than a thought.
Anyone else might really have let Sherlock get away.
Unfortunately, however, Sherlock was facing Satoru Gojo, who possessed the Six Eyes.
The instant Sherlock mobilized his cursed energy, Satoru Gojo punched him straight in the stomach, not only forcibly dispersing the cursed energy he had gathered to activate his technique, but also making him behave himself immediately.
Watching Sherlock clutch his stomach and lie curled up like a shrimp on the floor, Satoru Gojo scratched his head in puzzlement.
"I didn't even hit you that hard, did I? Xia-chan, your hand-to-hand fundamentals are really terrible. Even your cursed energy control is no good! And your technique is so powerful, too."
Hearing Satoru Gojo's words nearly sent Sherlock's blood pressure through the roof. Using every ounce of strength to raise a towering middle finger at Satoru Gojo, who stood beside him looking puzzled, counted as his last act of defiance.
Seriously, if he could actually beat this white-haired guy, Sherlock would fight this Dickhead Cat hundreds of times a day!
Satoru Gojo turned a blind eye to Sherlock's final act of defiance, the smile never leaving his lips. Watching Sherlock clutch his stomach and play dead on the floor, he chuckled, completely ignored his struggles, and used Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue to pull him into his hand.
And just like that, he carried Sherlock out to the field like a piece of cargo yet again.
Although it was almost April, the wind was still bitterly cold. Sherlock shivered violently, decisively abandoned his dignity, and looked up at Satoru Gojo with pitiful eyes.
"Teacher~ It's really too cold. Can we skip today?"
Forcing down his shame, Sherlock imitated Satoru Gojo's syrupy schoolgirl tone, hoping to escape training this way.
Unfortunately, although Satoru Gojo liked using that routine himself, Sherlock's syrupy offensive left him utterly unmoved. Chuckling, he raised a finger and wagged it at Sherlock, using the same syrupy schoolgirl tone.
"No can do~ Xia-chan~ You'll warm up once you start running~"
With that, Satoru Gojo ignored Sherlock's horrified gaze and tossed him straight onto the track.
"Since you're a beginner, Xia-chan, just twenty laps will do~ No cursed energy allowed~ Once you finish, your teacher will take you out for a feast~"
Hearing Satoru Gojo's words, Sherlock looked at the track, which was at least four hundred meters around, and went completely dumbfounded.
Four hundred meters a lap, so twenty laps was eight thousand meters? Fucking hell, for someone in the go-home club like me, this was pure hell!
Seeing Sherlock standing motionless on the track, looking as vacant as if Unlimited Void had fried his brain, Satoru Gojo raised an eyebrow and flicked a Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue at him without another word.
Watching the basketball-sized azure orb hurtle toward him, Sherlock was stunned. His survival instincts made him reflexively try to activate his technique, only for Satoru Gojo's voice to stop him short.
"If you use your technique or cursed energy, Xia-chan, your teacher will have to switch to Cursed Technique Reversal: Red or get personally involved~"
"!!! You unscrupulous Dickhead Cat! You have no heart!!! I'm dropping out! Dropping out!!!"
Satoru Gojo controlled the basketball-sized Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue, keeping it hot on Sherlock's heels and forcing him to sprint around the field with every last ounce of strength he had.
Of course, although his body had obediently been forced into exercising, Sherlock had absolutely no intention of letting Satoru Gojo off verbally.
Satoru Gojo paid no mind to Sherlock's despairing bellows, and after hearing them, he even decisively chose to ignore the latter half.
"Well, well! A student daring to portray his teacher as a cat! Five more laps!"
After shouting at Sherlock, Satoru Gojo even secretly increased Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue's speed a little.
"I ******! You *****! Fuck! I was wrong! I was wrong! I really was wrong!"
Feeling the suction behind his ass growing stronger, Sherlock was beside himself. After just a few colorful curses, he immediately changed his tune and desperately begged for mercy.
"Useless, useless, useless, useless! My dear Xia-chan! Feel the love of the greatest teacher!!!"
Satoru Gojo paid absolutely no attention to Sherlock's pleas. Striking an extremely over-the-top pose, he shouted at Sherlock in an equally melodramatic tone.
The exchange between the older and younger pair echoed through the deserted Tokyo Jujutsu High, making Shoko, who was studying for an exam, look up toward the field. Hearing the teacher and student's conversation, a faint smile curved her lips.
"Scumbag!"
After muttering that under her breath, Shoko put on her headphones and continued studying the material before her. There was no telling whether that "scumbag" referred to Satoru Gojo or Sherlock.
Likewise, Masamichi Yaga, standing inside the classroom building, happened to witness the "training" on the field that could only be described as fooling around.
However, Masamichi Yaga had no intention of stopping it.
Though he felt sorry for that child, it had been a long time since he had seen Satoru Gojo so cheerful.
Still, considering the personality and technique of that child named Sherlock, perhaps Satoru Gojo's training method really was the only one that could make him stronger.
For a moment, Masamichi Yaga could not even tell whether the child named Sherlock was "saving" Satoru Gojo, or whether Satoru Gojo was "saving" Sherlock, whose head was filled with nothing but thoughts of escape.
Shaking his head helplessly, Masamichi Yaga turned and headed toward his office.
Unfortunately, Sherlock had no idea that he and Satoru Gojo had become a spectacle for all of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
By his fifth lap, Sherlock could no longer speak. His lungs felt as though they were on fire, every breath burning painfully, while his feet felt filled with lead. Lifting a foot each time had become a contest of willpower.
Yet even then, Satoru Gojo had no intention of letting Sherlock off. Instead, he vanished from the field with a teleport.
Just as Sherlock thought he could finally take a break, he saw Satoru Gojo reappear on the field, wearing a helmet and riding what was clearly a women's electric scooter, with a large dog on a leash.
His two long legs were cramped miserably onto the scooter's little footboard, but Satoru Gojo looked thoroughly enthusiastic.
Sherlock knew exactly where that little electric scooter had come from. The only thing he could not figure out was where Satoru Gojo had found such a large dog!
Watching Satoru Gojo ride toward him on the little electric scooter with the big dog on a leash, Sherlock was beside himself.
Sure enough, Satoru Gojo was only fit to be watched through a screen. In actual contact, this damned white-haired guy was a fucking king of shit!