Unbeknownst to them, half a year passed in the blink of an eye.Gojo Satoru was living quite comfortably. With his connections, he received special treatment in every aspect of life. Ever since he had crushed the balls of those five guys, anyone daring to provoke him had completely disappeared. Everyone he met bowed and scraped in deference.
Occasionally, if he saw someone he liked at the training camp, he wouldn't hesitate to give a few pointers or step in when they were being bullied. As a result, there were a few who considered Gojo Satoru their savior. The rampant bullying that used to occur had gradually diminished due to his presence as the undisputed ceiling of combat power.
Among his admirers was Shimizu Xia, whom he had saved the first time. She seemed to have changed a lot since that incident. Her rankings in combat drills were consistently high, and she no longer looked so fragile. Whenever she saw Gojo Satoru, her eyes would light up, and she would rush over to greet him, even asking for his autograph.
This fangirl behavior… was she like Miwa from the Conan universe?Not that it was a bad thing. If these "Gojo fans" could become peripheral or code-named members in the future, it might benefit him somewhat, though Gojo Satoru didn't hold much hope.
Over the past six months, he had been diligently trying to "conquer" the workaholic Kurosawa Jin. For example, he always forced desserts into his mouth after lunch, randomly gave him lollipops from the system's store, or persistently threw paper wads at him during class to "foster" their relationship.
(Kurosawa Jin: Are you sure that's not harassment?)
Effort pays off. Now, he and Kurosawa Jin had become inseparable (?) friends. Gojo often teased the workaholic without him getting angry (he had already grown numb) and was even willing to regularly go to the shooting range or training base with him. They could also share meals together, splitting bread in the cafeteria.
Though the daily training seemed arduous to others, for Gojo Satoru—who had suffered a dimensionality reduction attack upon arriving in this world—it was still effortless. While others competed furiously to earn a code name, he would yawn and lazily lie in bed. Seeing this, Kurosawa Jin recalled how he couldn't even touch the hem of Gojo's clothes during sparring, feeling extreme frustration.
Could there really be people in the world who did nothing yet were incredibly strong from birth? Or some kind of talent he couldn't comprehend? What kind of world had Gojo Satoru seen?
Watching Gojo effortlessly raise his hand and achieve another perfect score, Kurosawa Jin gritted his teeth, refusing to fall behind, and picked up his gun to practice again. If there were an award for the "King of Competition," he might very well be a world champion.
Inside the training base cafeteria, members who had just completed another combat drill sat quietly at tables, eating mediocre food. Gojo, having once again won the drill, enjoyed a donut from Tequila, feeling quite content.
He loved sweets, just like his original self. Perhaps it was fate.
Seeing his roommate radiating a low-pressure aura next to him, Gojo calmly chewed and swallowed, adding fuel to the fire: "Why the long face?"
Kurosawa Jin grumbled, "Shut up," focusing on his rice, not wanting to deal with this cheat at all.
Gojo rested his chin on his hand, completely unfazed, his blue eyes sparkling with confidence and playfulness: "No choice~ After all, I'm a genius."
Kurosawa Jin remembered his own declaration at the sniping range six months ago: "I'll become stronger than you." He remained silent, lowering his head to eat. He had indeed grown stronger—but Gojo Satoru wasn't standing still either. Every time he thought he was close to catching up, it turned out to be an illusion. It was like playing a game he could never win; every time he neared the finish line, the difficulty would rise automatically.
He "tsk-ed," gripping his spoon tighter, and turned his frustration into appetite, eating furiously like a hamster.
Over six months, Gojo had accumulated 3,000 impression points by constantly provoking Kurosawa or showcasing his skills in front of Tequila. However, the system informed him that points were difficult to gain, decreased over time, and had a limit per character. Once a character's impression points peaked, he would have to target someone else. The maximum was likely only 10,000 to 20,000 points; he couldn't extract more.
Target: 100,000… when would it ever end? And there were so few Black Organization characters to begin with—it was frustrating.
"This is too hard. I might as well retire here," Gojo muttered internally, then casually asked, "System, what's the workaholic's impression of me now?"
"Buzz… According to analysis, it can be summarized as annoyance, killing intent, friendliness, etc."
Hey… this guy still hasn't given up on killing him!Completely conquering Kurosawa Jin was indeed a long, arduous journey.
Days passed like this. Everyone endured militarized management and rigorous assassin training, striving with all their might not to be eliminated. Even small groups of competitors treated each other as enemies. However, Tequila required everyone to have a partner, like Gojo and Kurosawa. They could spar in drills or combat, but also had to cooperate in team exercises to defeat other teams.
The organization did not advocate solo fighting; teamwork was crucial.
As their cooperation became tacit, the annual elimination tournament began—this time, with live ammunition. The drills they had practiced seemed trivial compared to this.
The competition operated on a point system. Each team faced others, and the lowest-ranking teams were executed by Tequila or his guards, then thrown into the bottomless sea, their existence erased. If lucky, some teams would be relegated to odd jobs on the island, allowing everyone to step on them.
The details of the competition will not be elaborated.
For Gojo and Kurosawa, who had overwhelming strength, securing first place was effortless, though Kurosawa accidentally grazed his wrist with a bullet while taking cover—a minor accident.
After hours, Tequila announced the end. Gojo looked at the piles of corpses, some familiar, who had dared to question him about combat. They had died competing for points.
Tequila then gave the last-place teams a chance:"Whoever kills their partner, I will let them live."
Gojo thought, "Of course… that's why he arranged partners—to test their will. If an assassin can't kill due to emotions, they're unqualified."
Tears streamed down the orphans' faces as they fired under the threat of death, creating a grotesque scene. Gojo had never seen the organization's evil so clearly. It reminded him of the old geezers in the Jujutsu world who didn't treat people as people.
Gojo wasn't a savior. He had long accepted death. But he still thought about changing something.
He looked at Kurosawa Jin and thought there would eventually be a battle between them, whether soon or later. If Jin died, would the Conan world collapse? The system was vague, only saying the world order wouldn't collapse easily—but it didn't rule out collapse entirely.
After everything ended, Gojo ate as usual, though distracted, the food tasting like wax. He had to talk to Kurosawa.
By nightfall, they were back in their dorm. Kurosawa's wrist wound had become infected.
"Don't move, I'll help you," Gojo said suddenly.
"What are you doing?" Kurosawa stared, confused.
"It's normal to help a friend apply medicine, isn't it?"
In a year, Gojo had never once said the word "friend." Kurosawa had never known what to call that comfortable feeling he had around Gojo, more natural than with anyone else. He didn't know, and he didn't want to think too much.
This arrogant, obnoxious guy was annoying—but after getting used to it, it was nothing. It felt real, allowing one to talk freely. Kurosawa thought they were just partners, roommates, rivals, enemies.
So when Gojo grabbed him to help, he seemed to hear some huge joke, eyes wide, not moving.
"Friend?"
After a long pause, he finally spoke, as if inconceivable:"You think I'm your friend?"
He uttered the word awkwardly, like it was foreign.
"Aren't you?" Gojo spread his hands. "Jin, we've hung out for a whole year. How do you usually see me?"
Kurosawa paused, then sneered, "Are you an idiot? Do you know who we are? People in the dark world don't need friends."
"Then isn't living like that boring?"
The blonde youth frowned. "So besides playing hero, you also play these childish games?"
The white-haired boy sighed. "If killing me is the only way to get a code name, what would you do?"
Kurosawa snorted, "Do you even need to ask? Of course I'd kill you."
He knew he couldn't beat Gojo, but he still taunted: "Stop pretending. Those without value don't need to live. That's the rule of this world."
"Is that so?" Gojo said, applying the medicine seriously. "I used to think that too—but not anymore.
Having someone walk alongside you as an equal, even if slower, is better than striding alone.Value doesn't matter. I just… don't want to kill my friends. The world shouldn't be like this."
Kurosawa paused, saying nothing.
Finally, he said, "Heh, no matter what you say, I'll get a code name. I'll kill anyone in my way."
Cold-blooded—but then…
[Ding! Impression value from Kurosawa Jin increased… 2000 points!][Impression judged as: Friendship.]
It had taken Gojo a whole year to accumulate just 3,000 points!
He happily opened the store, filled his cart with weapons and clothes, planning to spend the remaining points after leaving the island.
Without the system, he would have been fooled by Kurosawa Jin. Who said this guy had no emotions? Tsk, such a tsundere~