Momentarily, they started to believe that they may have misjudged Gojo and that he really did have a taste for classical music, but they quickly came to their senses and dismissed the thought.
Gojo moseyed along, then stopped in front of a shop with a
yellow sign.
“Fushiguro, what kind of store is that?” Itadori asked.
“It sells capsule toys,” Fushiguro said. “It’s a gachapon shop.”
“What? Stores like that exist?”
“In Akiba, they do.”
“Oh, okay. Look, he’s getting one!”
“I really don’t need to see one of my teachers buying a 500-yen capsule toy,” Fushiguro said. “But what machine did he choose?”
“It has keychains that look like mushrooms. Realistic ones.”
“If you’re going to spend 500 yen, wouldn’t it be better to get real mushrooms at the supermarket?”
“You don’t understand, Fushiguro. Capsule toys are great because you never know what you’ll get!”
“I hope I never do understand that.”
“He opened it! What’d he get?!” Itadori asked.
“It looks like he got a poisonous mushroom, and he doesn’t seem pleased.”
“Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha! He can’t eat that mushroom!!”
“You can’t eat any of the mushrooms. They’re toys!”
Gojo grumpily tucked the keychain into a pocket and resumed his peregrination.
He went into a computer shop and fiddled with a mouse. Then he went into an electronics shop and tried a massage device on his shoulders. They lost track of him for a bit before finding him again reading manga in a bookstore. Then he swayed down a side street to peruse used video games at a sidewalk sale. Apparently, he was going wherever his whims led.
“He doesn’t appear to have any specific purpose,” Fushiguro noted.
“Nope, doesn’t seem like it,” Itadori responded, now wearing toy goggles that claimed to measure combat strength.
“Where did you buy those?”
“Some secondhand shop. When I saw Gojo reading manga, I thought he might like these.”
“Do you ever keep your wallet closed?”
“Men splurge when something catches their eye,” Itadori said.
“And that stupid game earlier caught your eye?”
“Hey! Gojo went into a building! Or rather, his ki did.”
“You didn’t need to rephrase that.”
“Uh-oh! We’re losing him. C’mon, Fushiguro!”
Itadori took a step toward the building’s entrance, but Fushiguro stopped him by yanking on the hood of his hoodie. (This is dangerous, so you should never do it to your friends.)
“No, not so fast.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Itadori demanded. “What’s the problem? Did we follow him all the way here only to give up?”
“Didn’t you see the sign on the building?”
“Huh?” Itadori looked up and read the sign. “Oh!”
ANGEL MAID CAFÉ MISCHIEVOUS ☆ CUPID!
The second floor of the building was home to a café that catered to a clientele with very specific tastes. It wasn’t a lewd establishment, exactly. It was just a wholesome café … where the servers dressed like maids. Going inside a place like that required a degree of fortitude, especially if you were a boy of a certain age. Even Itadori could feel his cheeks turning red.
“This is unexpected. Even for Gojo,” he said.
“Maybe he came for these.” Fushiguro pointed to several flyers posted on the wall advertising “French-style pancakes to make even a pâtissier’s mouth water!”
That made sense to Itadori. “That must be it! He eats gobs of sweets!”
“And he does indulge his sweet tooth more when he’s going through an especially busy period.”
“Well, we solved the mystery, so I guess we can stop following him. I’m too embarrassed to go in there.”
“That’s a smart decision,” responded Itadori. “For you, anyway.”
“Welcome, Masters!”
The greeting, bright and eager, came from behind them, and both boys let out sounds of surprise.
Neither Itadori’s powerful physical instincts nor Fushiguro’s polished curse-detection skills had picked up the approach of a veteran server. She was on the prowl for customers and had snuck up on the two boys. They may have looked hesitant to enter, but she knew a ripe source of income when she saw one.
Fushiguro wondered what he had done in a previous life to deserve this.
Before he could gather his wits, the maid had ushered him and Itadori into the café. Inside, a staff member forced him to put on angel wings and a halo made from plastic and wire. “This is so you get a taste of Heaven!”
Now he both looked and felt dead.
“For new masters, we recommend the Sacred Set meal,” said the maid. “The Heart-Heart A meal!”
“Huh? Oh, right. Well, it’s my first time here, so I suppose it’s best to take the staff recommendation. Two Sacred Sets, extra heart,” said Itadori.
“Your wish is our karma! ☆”
“Huh? That sounded cool!” Itadori was already warming to the idea of a conversation with the maid. He liked parties and had a sunny disposition, so adapting to new situations came easy for him. For a serious, responsible person, like Fushiguro, it was another matter entirely. Taking in the scene, decked out in a halo and wings, he could feel his soul dying a little.
“Now, back to the crucial matter at hand, Fushiguro,” Itadori said.
“Which is?”
“It seems that Sensei really did come here for the pancakes.”
Gojo had chosen a window seat with a view of the wall of a neighboring building, and now he was enjoying pancakes and a beverage in a leisurely and somewhat smug manner. He sipped his cappuccino with an attitude straight from a hard-boiled mystery novel, and he wore his angel cosplay like it was some kind of formal attire. The level of relaxation he exhibited was completely at odds with the newbie vibe of Itadori and Fushiguro.
“Okay, we found out what Gojo Sensei’s up to,” Fushiguro said. “So if you’re satisfied, let’s get out of here.”
“Huh? But we just ordered!”
“We can pay what we owe on our way out.”
“But it would be wrong to waste the food,” Itadori said.
“Right … I suppose you have a point.”
Fushiguro wanted to leave even if it meant paying for nothing, but he was a conscientious person, and he couldn’t argue with Itadori’s reasoning.
His eyes grew distant, like he was gazing into a ditch in the middle of the night. He considered tuning everything out. For living things, going numb is like a safety switch. If he didn’t do something now to protect his mental equilibrium, he might give birth to some kind of curse.
Itadori, meanwhile, seemed jittery but nonetheless appeared to be enjoying the attractions.
However, their true baptism to maid cafés was yet to come.
Their server appeared beside their table. “Thank you for waiting! Here are your Sacred Sets! Heart-Heart A!”
The Sacred Set turned out to be omurice, which they could never have guessed from the description on the menu.
On the plate was an illustration of a panda made with ketchup. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but it closely resembled Panda Senpai, which caused an emotional pang within Fushiguro. Below the panda was a caption: Sacred and tired as hell. A reference to the slow-moving panda. Fushiguro agreed that this all was indeed tiring.
Itadori, however, was getting into the mood.
“Masters, I need you to glop on more heart!” said their server.
“How do we do that?” asked Itadori.
“Describe a heartfelt, beloved, or especially dramatic scene from an anime you like without saying the title, and if the heart comes across, you pass!”
“Huh? Whoa … That’s hard!” said Itadori. “Okay, um … the main character is a boy who admires heroes.”
“I watch that, I watch that! I’m a huge fan!” exclaimed the server.
“And there’s a character with a father complex. When he remembers how he wanted to become a hero, he uses his left hand, which he wouldn’t before. I liked that.”
“Ahh, that episode’s a classic! But your choice of scene is too cliché. Try again!”
“All right then, a different anime.” Itadori thought for a moment. “The main character loses his parents and grows up in a ninja village, and there’s a scene where everyone accepts him as worthy and tosses him into the air.”
“Yes, that’s so heartful!”
“You know how his instructor, the only one who was on his side, gets tears in his eyes? That’s the best,” Itadori said.