"...Are you leaving?"
"Yeah. I'm heading back to Japan."
Shiho Miyano knew he would leave the campus sooner or later, but she hadn't expected it to be this soon. A trace of loss inevitably welled up in her heart.
Due to the lingering shadow of the Organization, she found it difficult to open up to anyone besides her sister, Akemi Miyano, and had no intention of making friends. But when chatting with the casual and eccentric Gojo Satoru, she would always temporarily forget her troubles. (Mainly because all her focus was spent on snarky retorts).
In the end, aside from the mentors who guided her academically, Gojo Satoru was the person she was most familiar with at this school. Even when she returned to Japan in a few years, she would likely be under heavy surveillance by the Organization. They might never see each other again.
Seeing the girl's low spirits, Gojo Satoru crouched down and affectionately patted her head. Shiho Miyano's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull away.
"Don't worry~ We'll definitely meet again." Gojo ruffled her russet hair until it was a bit messy. "I just have a few things I want to say to you before I go, Miyano-san."
"What?"
"I noticed a long time ago that you seem to be carrying a very heavy cage on your back. You're always repressing yourself; you rarely even smile."
Feeling Shiho's "How do you know?" gaze, Gojo bragged, "Did you forget? I'm quite the expert in psychology."
"Psychology is different from criminal psychology, isn't it?"
As soon as Shiho said it, she realized—in the near future, she would inherit her parents' research and sink deeper into the Organization. Wasn't she essentially a criminal-in-waiting? In that sense, there really wasn't a difference.
"Professor Gojo is indeed sharp sometimes," she sighed, saying bitterly, "But I can't tell you about those things, and I can't... not repress myself."
"It's okay~ Someday, you'll grow wings and leave that cage to pursue your own life. When that time comes, make sure to smile and be happy, Shiho-san."
Snowflakes fell slowly around Gojo Satoru, swirling lightly before landing on his face and quietly vanishing, as if melted by that brilliant smile.
Shiho Miyano blinked. "Is this a parting blessing?"
"No. It's a prophecy."
[Ding! Impression Points from story character Shiho Miyano +500.]
Estimating that his flight to Tokyo would be leaving soon, Gojo Satoru stood up, gave the girl's head one last pat, and departed. When he had walked about ten meters away, he heard a small call from behind him.
"Professor Gojo... in the future, can we build a snowman together again?"
The tall, white-haired youth extended his right hand, making an "OK" gesture.
"Next time we meet, let's build a super cute one."
Actually, Gojo Satoru had planned to stay in the U.S. for a while longer. But just yesterday, Renya Karasuma called him—a rare video call, no less.
The old man in the video was clearly much more aged than ten years ago, but strangely, his spirit seemed quite vigorous. As the Big Boss of the "liquor factory," a King-level PUA master, and a professional "dream-seller," he always used the carrot-and-stick approach with his subordinates, and his foster son was no exception.
When Gojo occasionally made a mistake on a mission, the Boss's tone would become cold and harsh, filled with warnings and pressure. But when no faults could be found, he would suddenly transform into a loving father, no longer calling him "Caesar" formally, but rather "my child" or "Satoru," affectionately asking about his daily life. It gave Gojo a bit of the creeps.
Generally speaking, the Boss was indeed permissive toward him. He could accept missions freely and had plenty of spare time. The Boss had even hired several world-famous private tutors when he heard Satoru wanted to self-study, though they weren't needed in the end.
If it were anyone else, they might have been successfully brainwashed into a loyal hound of the Organization by the old man's PUA tactics. But Gojo Satoru knew very well: the man had never viewed him as a child, but merely as a tool to expand the Organization's territory and find the jewel of eternal life.
The so-called "Ace of the Organization" was essentially a nuclear weapon. As long as other powers feared the existence of "Caesar," an unknown and powerful Ability User, the Organization would always have a trump card at the global gambling table.
Speaking of which, the Boss didn't seem as obsessed with the jewel lately... several times when Gojo made excuses to slack off, the Boss didn't say much. Had there been a breakthrough in the research for "Drug A"? But Shiho was still studying abroad; it shouldn't be that fast.
Regardless of the facts, the Boss's reason for seeking him out this time wasn't bad. He essentially said that Gojo Satoru had grown mature enough to formally inherit his family's title. Therefore, it was time for him to return to the Gojo ancestral home in Tokyo.
The affairs of the U.S. and Mexico branches could be handed over to others. For Gojo Satoru, the urgent task was to revitalize the Gojo Clan.
Thinking about it, it was a good thing this world had a Gojo family. If not... he might have been set up to take the Boss's surname. For example: Karasuma Satoru?
Abbreviations: WWW?
Gojo Satoru shuddered. Yikes, I feel like there's no name in the entire manga uglier than that.
"I promised your father back then... that I would send you back to your true home once you grew up. Sadly, after so many years, he can no longer see you." The Boss coughed. "Go to the Gojo family cemetery and talk to him, Satoru."
It sounded touching, but the Boss naturally had his own calculations. Lately, the funds required for the Organization's scientific research and software development had been skyrocketing—it was like throwing fistfuls of money into a furnace with barely a sound in return. Karasuma was indeed wealthier than the Suzuki or Ooka corporations, but there were too many places to spend money.
The Gojo family, though a fallen Shinto clan, still had a significant industrial foundation; they just lacked talent to manage it. If the Gojo family could be developed into a giant by Satoru, the Karasuma Group would have a trustworthy partner. Then, money would beget money, infinitely.
Renya Karasuma stated plainly: within five years, he hoped Satoru would develop the Gojo family into a top-tier Japanese conglomerate—at least one-third the strength of the Suzuki Group.
Fine, Detective Conan has its own unit of measurement: the Suzuki Group.
Chairman Suzuki: Are you even being polite?
Of course, the Boss also dangled a carrot. Once his long-cherished wish was fulfilled, he was willing to hand over full succession rights for both the "Crow" Organization and the Karasuma Group to Gojo Satoru.
Gojo Satoru: ? I don't believe a word you say, you old rascal.
Truthfully, he had wondered if just killing the Boss would solve everything—but the System said that as the final antagonist of the manga, the Boss's status was special. If he died before the plot neared its end, the entire world might collapse. That was the only thing stopping him.
Renya Karasuma: ...I feel a sudden chill on my neck. Is it just a hallucination?
Time flew. Gojo Satoru drafted a "Five-Year Development Plan" on the plane, took a beauty nap, and woke up in Japan. Regardless of whether the Boss was short on cash, if he could sit in First Class, he wouldn't teleport.
He had messaged Gin before coming, but the man was apparently busy and didn't come to pick him up.
Waa, the "Model Employee" is such a fake best friend!!
He heard Gin was highly regarded by the Boss now, serving as a semi-leader for the Tokyo headquarters' Action Group—higher in status than many code-named members. The price, however, was that his feet barely touched the ground.
Fine, I won't lower myself to his level.
The Gojo ancestral home is the clan's base, located in Ekoda, Tokyo.
Yes, that very Ekoda where Kuroba Kaito's house and Nakamori Aoko's house are located. It was that much of a coincidence. Gojo Satoru was quite amused when he saw the data. It seemed he would have to find time to visit his "dear nephew."
Heh~ should I bring a few fish as a souvenir?
Actually, Ekoda isn't far from the "Home of the God of Death," Beika City. Apparently, if Kuroba Kaito sets off fireworks under the clock tower, Conan can see them from the other side.
Thus, Gojo Satoru arrived in Ekoda smoothly. The Japanese winter was cold, the streets covered in thick snow. Pedestrian footprints and tire tracks left strings of marks.
The white-haired, blue-eyed youth wore a thick wool coat, his silhouette almost merging with the surrounding snow, looking like the incarnation of this pure world. He dragged his suitcase to a sprawling estate.
This mansion was located in the suburbs of Ekoda, surrounded by meticulously trimmed pines and cherry blossoms, though their branches were currently draped in silver-white shawls. A stone path extended from a distant shrine to the front gate, flanked by babbling streams and stone lanterns. The architectural style followed traditional Japanese design: dark roof tiles, wind chimes hanging under the eaves, tinkling in the breeze.
The entrance was a heavy stone gate carved with the family crest: an eye-shaped pattern in the center, flanked by several dots and star-like symbols. It was quite distinctive.
Gojo Satoru took off his sunglasses, wanting to observe more, when he was startled by an old man sweeping in front of the estate.
The old man, with a white beard and dressed in a simple kimono, saw him and immediately dropped his broom, rushing over. Gojo's eyelids twitched, fearing the old man might trip and hurt himself.
"Young Master... no, Lord Son of the Gods!"
The old man saw those blue eyes that looked like the extension of the sky and trembled, nearly bursting into tears.
"Is it truly you who has come?!"