"Meeting adjourned!"
With Asou Akiya's final words the session came to a close. Gojo Satoru shot out of the room like an arrow — a sharp whoosh marking his instant departure.
Ieiri Shoko propped her chin on her hand.
"He really can't wait another second."
Asou Akiya nodded with quiet satisfaction.
"The more invested he gets the better the result will be. He's shouldering the heaviest part of the plan anyway."
"Shoko let's go." Asou Akiya straightened the desks and chairs they had used for the meeting closed the windows and shut the door behind them. Together they left the school building. On the way Ieiri Shoko and Asou Akiya quietly discussed the feasibility of using Reverse Cursed Technique to create a convincing false-death state.
Asou Akiya leaned close and whispered into her ear.
"I want his parents to lie completely still after they go down, unable to move at all, but still able to hear every sound around them."
Ieiri Shoko caught the implication immediately.
"Are Suguru's parents… not good to him?"
Asou Akiya answered without hesitation.
"They should be decent enough."
He paused considered it a moment longer and corrected himself.
"The way the three of them get along is fairly ordinary."
Then he thought again of the Getou Suguru from the original story, the one who would one day massacre his own parents and become the cult leader known as Getou, and finally settled on his verdict.
"Suguru hates them."
Ieiri Shoko: "..."
Akiya, do you have any idea what kind of psychological scar these three sentences of yours would leave if Suguru ever overheard them?
In just three short statements he had summed up the entire hidden family dynamic Suguru kept buried deep.
They split into three separate paths.
The first to set his part of the plan in motion was undoubtedly Gojo Satoru.
Gojo Satoru raced home at breakneck speed, summoned the servants the moment he stepped through the gate, and issued orders without preamble.
"I need to celebrate a classmate's birthday, prepare a secluded burial plot somewhere remote on Gojo family grounds for burying a classmate. Buy a headstone. Leave the inscription blank, no engraving needed."
While the servant dutifully recorded every detail he asked with careful caution.
"Satoru-sama, should we inform the clan head about this matter?"
This sounded suspiciously like preparations for murdering a classmate.
Gojo Satoru blinked in genuine surprise.
"Why the hell would I need to tell the old tangerine? I'm just handling a few small things."
The servant hesitated, words hovering on the tip of his tongue.
"This… is hardly a small thing..."
Gojo Satoru ignored the servant's obvious leap of imagination and pressed on.
"I also need you to hire three professional makeup artists and prop masters — specialists who can make three sixteen-year-old minors look convincingly like twenty-six-year-old adults. On top of that buy the absolute best high-tech gear available on the market: the highest-quality micro surveillance cameras, micro listening devices, and walkie-talkies."
Gojo Satoru's mind spun at full throttle — he had somehow memorized the entire multi-thousand-word script in record time.
"Where's the family tailor? Get him here immediately — I need a custom Tokyo Jujutsu High teacher uniform made to my measurements."
"Wait — no, scratch that. Send the prop master to me first so we don't waste any time."
"I'm going to disguise myself as a twenty-six-year-old version of me."
"Hurry up!"
"Time is running out!"
In a rush Gojo Satoru pulled out a crumpled sketch and thrust it into the servant's hands. The servant unfolded the paper and saw a quick pencil drawing of a figure: a Tokyo Jujutsu High teacher dressed in a high-collared uniform.
Around the simple character sketch were crammed pages of meticulous handwritten notes detailing every last specification. For instance the teacher uniform should use fabric in a black tone leaning toward deep purple; the top should be loose-fitting with a length that just barely covered the hips;
the pants should match the same color palette yet follow a more tailored cut;
the hairstyle must stand straight upright with the suggestion that the hair at the very back of the head be shaved down slightly leaving only a short white stubble;
the eyes should be completely covered with pure black high-elasticity fabric extending far enough to block the forehead area as well ensuring the hair could rise and stay perfectly vertical without obstruction...
The servant hurried off at once to carry out every command.
Not long afterward that very same draft sheet covered in specifications found its way into the hands of the Gojo clan head.
At first glance the figure drawn on the paper bore almost no resemblance to Satoru-sama — the man looked like an entirely different person.
Yet those unmistakable white strands of hair and that impossibly perfect body proportion diagram could only belong to one person: Gojo Satoru.
"No wait — Satoru-sama's actual height is one hundred and eighty-eight centimeters."
The Gojo clan head felt half his worry melt away. The level of detail was absurdly thorough.
It seemed this was truly nothing more than an elaborate "surprise" being prepared for a classmate?
[Height above one hundred and ninety centimeters — recommend invisible height-increasing shoes.]
[Shoulder width above forty-nine centimeters — recommend shoulder pads.]
[Shoulder joint width above twenty-four centimeters — recommend having the prop master prepare appropriately fitted inner layers.]
[Cuff width above thirteen centimeters...]
The Gojo clan head's mouth twitched faintly at the sight of these precise measurements.
Who exactly had drawn this character sketch? To capture Satoru-sama's bodily proportions with such uncanny accuracy?
"Recommend padded hips? Padded fake chest? Padded fake abs?" As the Gojo clan head read further he nearly choked on his own saliva.
Even he could not bring himself to claim, with a straight face, that Satoru-sama's current physique was flawless in every respect. At best one could say the proportions were perfect, the future held great promise. A boy still deep in adolescence could hardly compare to the robust power of a full-grown adult.
Yet beneath each meticulous suggestion on the reference sheet the Gojo clan head began to glimpse the future Gojo Satoru.
The teenager who would one day mature into this young man.
Taller and even more strikingly lean than he already was, short hair standing rigidly upright, amplifying an already overwhelming sense of presence. Every gesture carried the effortless confidence of full maturity, like a large snow leopard in the wild that had finally learned to sheath its claws yet still radiated quiet lethal grace.
The one thing that had never changed was how thoroughly the figure always wrapped himself up, leaving not even the slightest glimpse of skin exposed.
The hip-hugging top carried an inexplicable undercurrent of sensuality.
All at once the Gojo clan head went against his own better judgment for once.
"Give him full support, let him play to his heart's content."
After issuing the order he set off to find the grand elder and smooth over whatever fallout might follow.
When the grand elder heard that he intended to back the scheme he responded with calm indifference.
"Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't actually kill anyone."
The Gojo clan head quickly explained.
"I already looked into his three classmates. The one whose birthday falls on February third is Getou Suguru — a once-in-a-millennium cursed spirit manipulator. Satoru-sama shares the closest bond with him, so this is most likely nothing more than an elaborate prank."
The grand elder let out a faint breath of relief.
"That's good then."
For all the arrogance the Gojo family displayed in front of the Zen'in and Kamo clans they knew perfectly well that Satoru-sama had not yet reached his true peak.
If the one calling the shots right now were a twenty-six-year-old Gojo Satoru...
The grand elder would have simply said — go ahead and play, play as wildly as you like, no one in the entire jujutsu world could stop you from stirring up trouble.
The bearer of the Six Eyes stood at the pinnacle of an entire era.
The Gojo clan head brought up one more matter.
"Grand elder, the young master of the Zen'in family wishes to meet Satoru-sama."
The grand elder countered with a single question.
"Does Satoru-sama wish to meet him?"
The Gojo clan head shook his head at once. The grand elder responded without hesitation.
"Our family and the Zen'in are irreconcilable enemies. There is no need to show them excessive courtesy. If he refuses to see them then he refuses — end of discussion."
A few moments later while the two of them sat facing each other another servant hurried in to deliver fresh news.
"Satoru-sama has instructed us to reserve an entire high-end hotel in Tokyo for February third — no outsiders allowed inside under any circumstances. He also wants the Gojo family chefs dispatched to assist on site because he is preparing to host a 'high school reunion ten years later'!"
"..."
"..." The Gojo clan head and the grand elder exchanged a long glance.
Neither could say for certain whether it was merely an illusion yet somehow the heavy weight of exhaustion that ought to belong to ten years in the future already seemed to press down on them ahead of schedule.
The grand elder lifted his teacup took a slow sip and spoke with measured calm.
"With Satoru-sama holding the reins of the Gojo family no one would dare offend an adult bearer of the Six Eyes. By the time ten years have passed we will surely no longer need to worry about such matters ourselves."
The Gojo clan head nodded equally confident.
"I will definitely have stepped down by then as well."
The moment Satoru-sama came of age the position of clan head could be handed over to him at once!
They would all finally be able to retreat to the second line!
...
Asou Akiya stepped into a specialized shop that dealt exclusively in kesa monastic robes and collected the custom-ordered "Gojo kesa" that had been prepared for him.
Thanks to the official databook.
Thanks to the canon release of body measurements for high-school-era Satoru and Suguru.
He had not needed to speculate about any changes to Getou Suguru's physique at twenty-six — he simply used the sixteen-year-old Getou Suguru's proportions as reference when placing the order. The reasoning was straightforward: even at twenty-six Getou Suguru would never truly escape the bitterness of that endless summer; his frame would remain largely unchanged. The sole noticeable difference would be slightly longer hair.
"Perhaps add two faint law lines around the mouth for age?"
"No no, better to keep Suguru's face exactly as it is now."
Gojo Satoru had not been exaggerating. Asou Akiya also felt that Getou Suguru's features already carried a natural maturity far beyond his years.
He had prepared a complete set of monastic robes for his classmate Getou Suguru. All that remained missing was a star-plated sect and one dramatic fall into darkness and defection — then Getou Suguru could step right into a live reenactment of the Monkey Theory sermon delivered by Getou the cult leader.
As he stepped out of the shop Asou Akiya lifted the folded Gojo kesa in his arms and admired its singular beauty under the bright sunlight.
"Suguru, you have to wear this with joy, okay."
In the original story it was said that defection had been Getou Suguru's greatest beauty treatment.
Here there would be no defection, no endless bitter summer — yet Getou Suguru would still don these robes to experience the most thrilling birthday of his life.
Asou Akiya turned toward the next shop, a traditional footwear store.
He was going to collect the custom-made shoes: split-toe flat sandals sized perfectly for Getou Suguru.
The items were not expensive at all.
Yet every single piece carried the full sincerity of Asou Akiya's heart!
...
Unable to leave campus to shop in person Ieiri Shoko had simply added several lines to the procurement list for Tokyo Jujutsu High.
[Various types of surgical scalpels.]
[Standard medical gloves, shoe covers, white medical coat please buy in my size.]
[Two units of fresh blood plasma two people's worth approximately forty years old one male and one female intended for medical experimentation.]
[Anatomically accurate simulation mannequins suitable for dissection — two units, approximately forty years old, one male and one female, intended for medical experimentation.]
[Various sedatives — both inhalant and injectable forms required, intended for medical experimentation.]
[Various anesthetics — both inhalant and injectable forms required, intended for medical experimentation.]
[Is there such a thing as a fake-death drug on the market? — purely for research purposes.]
[Note: Urgent — rush order — extremely urgent!!]
She handed the procurement list to an auxiliary supervisor who had hurried over after receiving the phone call.
The auxiliary supervisor bowed deeply.
"Please rest assured, Ieiri-san."
Once no outsiders remained, Ieiri Shoko returned to the girls' dormitory and stood before a mirror to examine her reflection.
"Akiya told me to grow my hair long, wear high heels, put on a white coat, and draw dark circles under my eyes."
"But what does he mean by 'you won't be able to see your toes when you look down'?"
In her hand she held a character reference sheet — nowhere near as exhaustively detailed as the one Gojo Satoru had produced.
Yet it clearly depicted the "healthy" facial condition of a twenty-six-year-old Ieiri Shoko — the look of someone who had pulled far too many all-nighters in a row. She pinched her own cheek still plump with youthful collagen then tilted her head downward as Asou Akiya had instructed. Immediately she understood why he had phrased it so delicately; he had spared his female classmate the blunt truth.
"Akiya, you really went to great lengths just to preserve the impression I have of you."
Ieiri Shoko secretly ground her teeth.
Forcing a sixteen-year-old high school girl to lower her head and be unable to see her own toes?
Yet she could see her toes perfectly clearly!
Just say it outright!
It was nothing more than a boy thinking a girl's chest was a little on the small side!
"Satoru." Ieiri Shoko dialed Gojo Satoru's number. "Do you have professional makeup artists and prop masters on standby? I need a female prop master — have her come customize some things for me."
Gojo Satoru immediately asked what exactly she wanted customized. Ieiri Shoko refused to breathe a single word of it.
Moments later she heard Gojo Satoru burst into tears of laughter on the other end after trying on the fake chest padding. He kept laughing until he finally complained between gasps.
"Putting on this whole fake set makes my body feel way less flexible — it's even fuller than both you and Inoue Waka combined."
Ieiri Shoko: "..." Listen to yourself — is that even something a human would say?
The utter scum of a high-school boy had managed to awaken a tiny spark of feminine dignity in her.
"Then we'll compare when the time comes!"
Gojo Satoru agreed without hesitation.
"Sure, let's compare!"
Ieiri Shoko could no longer contain her curiosity about his current appearance.
"Can you send a selfie?"
Gojo Satoru refused immediately.
"No way, It's a secret."
Ieiri Shoko was struck speechless by the coquettish whining tone leaking through the phone. That was it? And he still planned to pass himself off as a version from ten years in the future?
To keep the birthday event on track she reminded him.
"Satoru, shouldn't you adjust your tone a little? Even if it's just pretending, try sounding more mature and composed."
Gojo Satoru suddenly switched to a serious discussion.
"I actually thought about that too, but Akiya shot it down."
Ieiri Shoko blinked in disbelief.
"No way, really?"
Gojo Satoru's voice brightened with delight.
"Akiya said the tone doesn't need changing at all. The only word swap required is turning 'this old man' into 'I.' He even thinks my personality is too restrained right now, not free spirited enough, and that it wouldn't deliver the deep shock Suguru needs. According to Akiya, the me from ten years later would definitely be even more optimistic and carefree than I am now!"
Gojo Satoru's words were mixed with the faint sound of a television playing in the background.
"I'm currently watching the 1999 drama Great Teacher Onizuka — the main character used to be a biker gang boss and now he's a high school teacher. It's so interesting! No wonder Akiya recommended I study this show to figure out how to become a Great Teacher Gojo!"
Ieiri Shoko felt darkness cloud her vision. Great Teacher? The phrase alone made her entire body go numb.
Spare her please.
This was nothing short of reverse growth!
In Gojo Satoru's absence the makeup artists and prop masters hired by the Gojo family would normally have been barred from entering Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Yet Yaga Masamichi made an exception and allowed them to meet Ieiri Shoko in the designated guest area for ordinary visitors.
Ieiri Shoko laid out her requirements and discussed them thoroughly with the two professionals until they settled on a plan tailored just for her.
She wanted to embody a twenty-six-year-old burnout-style female school doctor at Jujutsu High!
So...
Ieiri Shoko stared with dead-fish eyes.
"According to what you're saying, I also need padded hips, padded shoulders, and padded chest? And on top of that I should probably learn how an adult woman walks in high heels?"
After discussion she suddenly found herself saddled with an impromptu course in body training — far more rigorous and restrained than Gojo Satoru's carefree self-indulgence.
She would never again mock his grand image overhaul project.
It turned out that in the eyes of professionals her current aura screamed too strongly of youthful girlhood, transforming into a convincing mature woman was no simple task at all!
Suguru, if you aren't sufficiently "surprised" by all this...
Then she and Satoru would truly have wasted every ounce of effort poured into this birthday theme!
——
The official materials provide DK Satoru's school uniform measurements, use the upper-body data from DK Satoru between ages sixteen and eighteen as reference while allowing some flexibility to conceptualize adult Satoru.