Chapter 2 —Two Punch
"Uh…"
Faced with the bald man's reaction, Kiyotaka Ijichi didn't know what to do. Standing behind him, Satoru Gojo seemed to find the salaryman's awkward expression amusing and couldn't help but laugh.
Ijichi turned back, shooting Gojo a pleading look. But the latter had absolutely no intention of helping, his face practically spelling out a single sentence: Go on, Glasses Beast!
"Um… You are Mr. Saitama, correct?"
Recalling the information Wataru Takagi had looked up, Ijichi cautiously confirmed once more.
"Yeah." Saitama nodded, his head reflecting the sunlight.
"Then you should be the one who defeated the Special Grade Curse…"
"No, I have no idea what a Curse is. And I'm really in a hurry. Can I leave now?"
Saitama showed a troubled expression, his eyes repeatedly drifting to the item in his hand. Only then did Ijichi notice he was clutching a supermarket sale flyer.
Had their earlier lead been wrong? Was the one who defeated the Special Grade Curse not this man?
As that thought crossed his mind, Ijichi's gaze sharpened—and he realized something unbelievable.
There wasn't the slightest trace of cursed energy on this bald man.
Cursed energy was born from human negative emotions. While not everyone had the talent to become a jujutsu sorcerer, as long as negative emotions existed, ordinary people would inevitably produce some cursed energy. Without the ability to control it like sorcerers, that energy would simply leak out chaotically.
Yet this bald man stood there blankly, meeting his gaze—without even a hint of cursed energy around him.
Could it be… Heavenly Restriction?
One form of Heavenly Restriction involved someone who should have been born with immense cursed energy sacrificing it before birth in exchange for an extraordinarily powerful physical body. It was like making a binding pact with the heavens—hence the name.
And as far as Ijichi knew, there had only ever been one person with a Heavenly Restriction so complete that they possessed absolutely no cursed energy yet could still perceive Curses—a man who had once defeated the pre-awakened Gojo… though in the end, he had still been—
Thinking of this, the bespectacled salaryman nervously glanced back at Gojo, only to find the usual smile on his face, revealing nothing of what he might be thinking.
Could this Saitama be the same kind of existence?
While Ijichi stood there trembling and lost in wild speculation, Saitama spoke again.
"Hey Uncle, if you're part of some TV show crew, you should find someone else. I'm leaving," he said. "Didn't I say I have to get to the next supermarket for a sale? There are only two minutes left before it starts."
"U-Uncle?"
Ijichi flinched, then forced a long-suffering expression. "I… I just look mature. I'm only twenty-six… huh?"
He looked up in shock to find the space in front of him completely empty. The Saitama who had been standing there moments ago had vanished. Only the supermarket's automatic doors opened and closed in the distance, as housewives returning with full shopping bags cast strange looks at him standing there blankly.
"…Where did he go…? And wait—the flyer he was holding was for a supermarket six kilometers from here, wasn't it?"
Avoiding the barrage of housewife stares, Ijichi turned to look for Gojo. But the moment he spun around, he realized that Gojo, who had been standing behind him just moments ago, was gone as well.
The poor glasses-wearing salaryman stood alone at the supermarket entrance under the scrutinizing gazes of housewives. After a long while, he muttered pitifully to himself.
"I-It's just me left…?"
...
A blur streaked down the street, instantly sending newspapers and fallen leaves swirling into the air.
"This is bad—I won't make it…" Saitama muttered as he ran, his face full of unwilling frustration. "If I hadn't been stopped just now, I definitely would've arrived before the sale started… If I can't get chicken, then with only cabbage and tofu, I'll have to eat tofu hotpot tonight."
"And also…"
While running, Saitama glanced back at the silver-haired man with a blindfold casually strolling behind him as if on a leisurely walk.
"Why is this guy following me…?"
Though puzzled, his top priority right now was discounted chicken. With that in mind, Saitama ignored Gojo and continued sprinting toward the supermarket.
"Oh…"
Following close behind, Gojo let out an ambiguous sigh.
Gojo was certain that Saitama knew he was being followed. Yet the bald man not only moved at inhuman speed, he also showed not the slightest extra emotion about Gojo keeping up with him so effortlessly—as if it didn't matter at all.
What exactly was going on? This was getting more and more interesting…
The two raced through the streets at speeds unimaginable to ordinary people. As time ticked away, the supermarket advertising discounted chicken finally came into view.
"Made it before the sale started… safe."
Seeing the store sign, Saitama finally relaxed. He immediately dashed inside—only to be shocked by the sight before him.
The fresh foods section displayed a massive banner reading: "Chicken Sale—120 Yen per Pack." However, beneath it was a tightly packed crowd of housewives who had arrived early to line up. Even before the sale began, there were at least twenty or thirty people in queue.
"This is bad. I didn't expect so many people to line up early…" Saitama scratched the back of his head, but still grabbed a shopping basket and stood at the end of the line. "They won't buy all the chicken, right…?"
"And besides…"
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gojo shamelessly lining up right behind him. Saitama's expression turned wary.
Don't tell me this guy's here to snatch discounted chicken too? No wonder he followed me all the way.
As Saitama mentally calculated chicken stock versus housewife purchasing power, Gojo suddenly tapped him on the shoulder.
"Saitama, right? How old are you?"
"Huh?" Saitama turned around in surprise and looked up at the taller Gojo. "…Twenty-five."
"Then you're younger than me." Gojo declared bluntly. "I'll call you Saitama-kun, then. You can call me Satoru."
"Ah… Wait, aren't you a high school student?"
"Haha, I'm already twenty-eight."
"In any case, Saitama-kun," Gojo smiled and unexpectedly asked, "Do you want to come to Jujutsu High?"
"…No. What even is that? You and that glasses uncle keep mentioning 'jujutsu and curses,' but I don't even know what that is."
Seeing Saitama reject him so decisively, Gojo tilted his head slightly and pointed at him in exaggerated surprise.
"You really don't know anything? The thing you defeated in the alley—that was a Curse."
"Oh, that thing?" Saitama froze, recalling it. "The one with blade-shaped arms that vibrated like a phone on silent mode and kept making that 'gagagaga' sound? I've beaten quite a few of those… So those are called Curses?"
"Yes, those." Gojo's expression grew increasingly intrigued. "Why do you defeat Curses?"
"Oh. If I had to say…" Saitama thought for a moment before answering flatly, "Just a hobby."
At that moment, a staff member in the fresh foods section picked up a loudspeaker and announced, "The chicken sale begins now and will end in thirty minutes…"
The housewives at the front erupted into motion. The first wave surged toward the neatly arranged packs of chicken like starving tigers, stuffing them into their baskets. Saitama instantly forgot the conversation, craning his neck toward the shelves, growing restless.
Watching Saitama squirm over discounted chicken—and earning annoyed glances from other customers for stretching too far—Gojo suddenly seemed to come up with an interesting idea.
Strong enough to defeat a Special Grade Curse in a single punch, yet poor enough to fight housewives over 120-yen chicken… That might be worth paying attention to.
As Gojo pondered, the line moved forward. One by one, customers left with baskets brimming with discounted chicken. Finally, Saitama reached the shelves.
Just as he stepped forward eagerly, the housewife ahead of him grabbed the last pack.
"Ah…"
Saitama stared blankly at the empty shelf. A nearby employee apologetically announced through the loudspeaker, "We sincerely apologize—the sale item is sold out. We look forward to serving you next time…"
The people at the back grumbled and dispersed. Saitama stood there for a moment, staring at the regular-price chicken—400 yen per pack—before ultimately taking nothing and heading to the vegetable section to pick out green onions.
"..."
Gojo stood with his hands in his uniform pockets, thoughtfully watching the bald man squeeze into the crowd of housewives for green onions, then push through again to grab discounted eggs.
Because of circumstances beyond his control, he failed to buy something he had been looking forward to—but he didn't lash out at anyone?
Saitama was now competing with several middle-aged women for discounted eggs. With speed too fast for normal eyes to follow, he slipped cartons into his basket. The housewives around him quickly realized they couldn't compete and shot him dirty looks.
"So annoying. A man fighting us over eggs…" complained a woman with curly sheep-like hair as she reached for a carton—only to grab the same one as Saitama.
"Hey, let go!" she snapped disdainfully.
"Why should I? I grabbed it first."
"Who cares? Let go, baldy!"
"…Baldy!?"
Saitama's expression twisted instantly. But at that very moment, he felt someone tap his shoulder again.
"Saitama-kun." Gojo waved at him.
"Ah, it's you again. What now?" Saitama immediately smoothed out his expression and looked back irritably. "If you're asking me to join Jujutsu High again, didn't I already refuse? I'm busy."
"Yeah, this bal—" The curly-haired woman turned to insult him again, only to freeze when she saw Gojo. "Oh… h-handsome…"
"Auntie," Gojo smiled at her, "I saw it. He grabbed the eggs first."
"U-Understood…"
Her cheeks flushed red. She instantly let go, completely ignoring the fact that Gojo had just called her "auntie," turning docile like a sheep.
Saitama placed the eggs into his basket, staring blankly at the dramatic change in her attitude before glancing back at Gojo, who was still smiling charmingly.
"What the heck. So nice to handsome guys…"
After counting the eggs in his basket, Saitama turned to buy something else. Gojo ignored the curly-haired woman trying to awkwardly ask for his contact information and walked over lightly.
"You really won't join Jujutsu High?" he pressed again.
"Absolutely not," Saitama refused once more. "And you're with that glasses uncle, right? Not getting discounted chicken today is your fault. If I hadn't been stopped, I'd have lined up earlier. I wanted chicken hotpot tonight."
"Oh? Is that so?" Gojo raised his right hand and rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger before suddenly asking, "Could it be that Saitama-kun… is short on money?"
"…I'm going to take that as picking a fight," Saitama said irritably.
"Hahaha, of course not." Gojo waved his hand and continued in his usual lively tone. "All the more reason to consider Jujutsu High. Even students receive a monthly stipend. After graduation, you become a proper jujutsu sorcerer and can earn money by exorcising Curses—the kind you punched to death in the alley. And teachers at the school receive very generous salaries."
"…Huh?" Saitama stopped walking.
"Want to hear the details?" Gojo suggested temptingly. "As an apology, I'll treat you to a meal. We can talk while eating. Let's go to Ginza for sukiyaki—I know a really good place."
"..."
"They use Special Grade wagyu."
"..."
"They also serve sushi and sea urchin."
"..."
"Going?" Gojo asked eagerly.
"Let's not waste time—let's go now!" Saitama replied enthusiastically.