A succession of days cleared the processing queue.
The morning sunshine cascaded across the academy grounds like rich, molten butter. Intermittent thermal breezes drifted through the outdoor paths, carrying a mixed scent of fresh grass and synthetic safety matting that temporarily mitigated the suffocating heat locking down the student body. This variety of climate was engineered precisely to the threshold where an individual felt an intense urge to slip into a daydream, yet remained structurally insufficient to constitute a valid alibi for slacking off.
Situated beneath the primary lecture hall complex, Wataru Date and Hiromitsu Morofushi were systematically distributing sanitation equipment to the remaining cohort. Every participant was swathed in the standard deep-blue athletic training uniform—a specific kit that was exceptionally resistant to grime and fundamentally immune to structural degradation. Aside from its absolute deficit in contemporary fashion metrics, it was virtually devoid of processing flaws.
"Keep your upper limbs operational, team Onizuka!"
Wataru Date elevated his heavy brow, his vocal output booming across the sector: "Accelerate your output! The exact microsecond this sanitation sequence is finalized, we are cleared to process our midday rations!"
"Ooh!!"
As the definitive class leader designated under Instructor Onizuka's explicit selection parameters, Date not only processed tasks with absolute structural integrity but concurrently wielded immense leadership mechanics, forcing the collective respect of the student body.
"Matsuda, extend the operational profile of that dustpan to my vector for a brief cycle."
Confronted with Furuya Rei's extended palm, Jinpei Matsuda surrendered the requested item without a single microsecond of internal hesitation: "Here."
"However, you will guarantee its flawless return to my sector in short order, copy?" The curly-haired youth let out a sharp grin: "Refrain from subjecting the structural housing to another absolute breakdown."
"Honestly..."
Furuya Rei let out a weary sigh, casting his gaze toward a thoroughly drained, black-haired youth anchored a short distance away, before murmuring with visible helplessness: "That structural failure cannot be mathematically cataloged as my exclusive fault profile."
During a prior physical conditioning block, in a bid to force a competitive draw against Hisano, Furuya had accidentally delivered a high-velocity kinetic strike that completely sheared the anchoring bolt off a heavy sandbag, earning himself a severe disciplinary lecture from Instructor Onizuka.
"Didn't you likewise log an extra lap around the perimeter track as a direct consequence of systematically dismantling the training handcuff arrays?"
Matsuda let out a series of amused hums: "The internal locking mechanism on that hardware was hopelessly outdated. I provided them with a premium, zero-cost structural upgrade, yet the instructor fundamentally lacked the capacity to appreciate the enhancement."
Right at that juncture, the duo intercepted a drawn-out, melodramatic vocal complaint echoing from the rear.
"Why exactly am I mandated to participate in this specific event~"
Satoru Gojo manipulated his broom handle as though it were a structural walking cane, aimlessly dragging the bristle array across the concrete interface in an erratic rhythm: "Sanitation campaigns are an absolute void of entertainment. My motivation parameters are currently tracking at absolute zero."
Matsuda let out an uninhibited laugh, thoroughly enjoying the youth's misfortune.
"Hisano, I was under the impression that your parameters registered a flawless maximum across every field. Are you telling me your processing speed hits a terminal bottleneck when confronted with basic chores?"
Gojo offered zero verbal data points to counter the thesis. Instead, he merely deployed a subtle flick of his toe, causing the localized debris within his operational vector to trace a flawless geometric arc through the air, landing with pinpoint accuracy straight onto the pristine pile of autumn leaves Matsuda had just aggregated.
"Ah, the simulation has suddenly evolved to register a minor trace of entertainment."
"You bastard—!!"
Matsuda refused to yield an inch of ground, instantaneously deploying a high-velocity kick to redirect the debris path: "Absorb the kinetic output of my Divine Dragon Tail strike!"
"Hey, hey! Watch your alignment parameters, Matsuda! Refrain from directing that trash payload toward my coordinates!"
Kenji Hagiwara stood a short distance away, lazily observing the intensely childish, chaotic skirmish playing out between Furuya, Matsuda, and Hisano.
"These guys have completely stabilized their parameters into an authentic friendship loop... Speaking as Little Jinpei's absolute closest companion, I am starting to register a minor dose of envy."
Nevertheless, his eyes remained curved into gentle crescents, entirely devoid of genuine dissatisfaction.
Hiromitsu Morofushi smoothly integrated into the dialogue with a soft laugh: "Doesn't this specific trajectory manifest as a highly positive development?"
Ever since their unified synchronization during the prior rescue event, the core six-man circle of the Onizuka class had displayed an exponentially compounding degree of mutual closeness. Though Furuya and Matsuda still traded sharp verbal barbs and Hisano maintained his baseline fixation on provoking their tempers, their internal calculation loops were entirely devoid of genuine malice.
Noticing that this cluster of entities was effectively coasting through the sanitation assignment under a dense cloud of structural slacking, Wataru Date closed the distance with massive strides, planting a heavy grip onto the collars of both Matsuda and Furuya: "You punks are failing to execute your sanitation tasks with appropriate focus. What specific game are you running here?"
Having fluidly slipped past the class leader's "Iron Fist of Disciplinary Retribution," Satoru Gojo abandoned his broom array, pressing a palm against his chest while simulating an absolute deficit in physical stamina.
"Oh my, my personal medical advisor explicitly dictated that I am barred from executing intense labor. Otherwise, I run a severe risk of dropping into an instantaneous hypoglycemic coma—"
"A hypoglycemic coma?"
Matsuda's features shifted into a dead-pan expression: "You've processed a grand total of three leaves. What specific metric permits you to catalog that as intense labor?"
Furuya Rei propped his chin against his palm, his delivery dripping with clinical precision: "A logical hypothesis. Factoring in Hisano's astronomical frequency of refined sugar consumption, his pancreatic architecture likely generates an excessive volume of insulin secretion, triggering a sudden, catastrophic plunge in localized blood-glucose parameters..."
Convinced that Gojo was merely deploying a sophisticated alibi framework, Matsuda offered a sharp counter-critique: "Have your memory files completely corrupted regarding the previous weighted endurance sprint? Even the class leader experienced a minor breakdown in physical stamina, yet this monster cleared the track while maintaining an absolute surplus of energy."
"What an intensely cold, unscientific take, Little Matsuda. Even an entity of my caliber encounters occasional processing fatigue, you know?"
The black-haired youth downshifted his lips into a pout, looking precisely like a fragile, misunderstood victim.
Hiromitsu Morofushi, who had efficiently cleared his designated geographic sector ahead of schedule, stepped forward to pat the youth's shoulder: "Since this task constitutes a direct assignment from the instructor, we must ensure its execution meets standard parameters."
Gojo opened his mouth to formulate a counter-argument, only to have Kenji Hagiwara casually hook an arm around his neck from behind.
"Alright, alright." Hagiwara let out a cheerful chuckle, intentionally ruffling the youth's unstyled black curls: "If Little Nozomi harbors such an absolute aversion toward sweeping operations, why not shift your coordinates to handle the window glass sanitation? That task registers a significantly lower physical drain."
Over the span of a handful of days, Hagiwara's personalized address for the youth had fluidly transitioned from "Little Hisano" to "Little Nozomi."
Ever since his consciousness achieved structural integration with this Detective Conan universe, Gojo had encountered an absolute deficit of individuals possessing the raw audacity to execute a head-pat protocol against his person. Typically, he was the exclusive entity deploying that specific maneuver.
For the very first time, he achieved a deeply bizarre comprehension of the old adage regarding the cosmic wheel of karma.
Simultaneously, Wataru Date offered a firm nod, retrieving a fresh cleaning cloth from the equipment stores.
"An acceptable compromise, Hisano-kun. Our unit will ensure the ground sweeping operations are brought to absolute completion, meaning those specific window panes are officially assigned to your vector."
"Mm~ Very well then."
Gojo grasped the cloth, lazily polishing the glass surfaces with highly compressed velocity. Roughly twenty minutes later, under the collective output of the group, the lecture hall exterior had been thoroughly optimized into an immaculate structural state.
As Wataru Date set out to aggregate the cleaning hardware back into storage, including the specific cloth Gojo had been manipulating, his progress suddenly faltered.
"Huh? What exactly is this?"
Hiromitsu Morofushi detected a residual cluster of water droplets clinging to one of the polished glass panes, structurally organized into the abstract, crooked profile of a turtle's head complete with a protruding tongue.
Gojo spread his hands, delivering an absolute fabrication with an unblinking gaze: "Why are your visual receptors locked onto my coordinates? I am completely detached from the authorship of this visual data."
"..."
Aside from your explicit profile, there isn't a single entity capable of this execution!
Right at that juncture, a highly animated, energetic cluster of female cadets materialized across the courtyard, proactively projecting greetings toward Hagiwara's vector.
"Hagiwara-kun! Refrain from dropping the weekend mixer from your calendar schedule!"
"But of course, leave the logistical parameters entirely to my discretion."
Hagiwara offered a practiced wave, projecting a highly reliable aura. A segment of the female cadets drifted their gaze deeper into the group, their features warming into noticeable flushes as they launched into low-volume discussions.
"Did you log that? Aside from Hagiwara-kun, there are several elite visual specimens anchored over there, every single one sporting a distinct stylistic flavor."
"Completely verified, their physical proportions are immaculate... I wonder what the structural definition of their abdominal muscles looks like?"
"My preference coordinates are firmly locked onto the youth sporting the low ponytail, nobody else is permitted to cross into that target vector!"
"I am tracking a distinct preference for the older, mature aesthetic~ What are our thoughts on the curly-haired gentleman?"
The lead cadet, brimming with enthusiasm, elevated her vocal output to command the space: "Hagiwara-kun, ensure you import a high volume of beautiful specimens to the event, such as the blonde, foreign gentleman standing directly adjacent to you—"
"Hey."
Wataru Date abruptly executed a massive stride forward, his towering shadow completely enveloping the cluster of female cadets.
"Who exactly are you classifying as a foreign entity?"
The raw, intimidating presence radiating from his frame forced the girls to execute a rapid half-step retreat: "Eh?! N-No... Officer, we extend our deepest apologies!"
"I am fundamentally not an instructor!"
"That merely serves as a data point proving Date-san wields the absolute majesty of an elite instructor."
Gojo had seamlessly manifested behind Date's broad shoulders at an unspecified microsecond, poking his head out from adjacent coordinates: "Furthermore~ our Little Zero constitutes a thoroughly authentic, pure-blooded Japanese citizen, you know!"
He merely processes a minor fraction of foreign genetic lineage.
"Who exactly are you addressing as Little Zero!"
The female cadets, thoroughly scattered by the overwhelming pressure, stammered out a hasty apology for their lack of decorum and bolted in every direction.
Furuya Rei registered a minor trace of surprise regarding the class leader's protective intervention. He prepared to open a dialogue to parse the matter, yet noting that Date was completely consumed with delivering laundered uniforms to an employee representing the Hanamura Laundry Service, he quietly chose to archive his inquiries for a later time.
With the sanitation details completely closed out, the group migrated toward the cafeteria to process their midday meal.
Despite Gojo being the absolute first entity to report to the food distribution queue, his return to the dining table registered as the final entry. Observing the massive mountain of red-bean paste taiyaki dominating his platter, Matsuda achieved immediate cognitive clarity.
"Sigh, certain entities simply excel at manipulating their visual assets to extract illicit favors from the cafeteria staff."
"Little Matsuda, are you registering a deficit in your personal preference metrics?"
"Like hell I am!"
At the adjacent table, a pair of students were processing low-volume anxieties regarding the subsequent day's academic curriculum.
One of them maintained a thoroughly miserable expression: "I am completely cooked, I executed zero advanced preparation for the English block... I register the distinct impression that the instructor is going to systematically target my coordinates."
The student sitting adjacent, an individual named Ito who was actively manipulating a toothpick, casually tossed out a recommendation.
"Why not simply request Furuya to guide your parameters? A single glance at his visual profile confirms his English output is bound to be pristine, right?"
"Completely logical, judging strictly by external data, he looks like he processes the language with absolute fluency."
Furuya Rei lifted his gaze, his features entirely neutral: "Ah, it doesn't track to that extreme extent..."
"It's guaranteed to be significantly more standard than the instructor's accent, you're a mixed-race blend after all!"
Wataru Date's brow furrowed instantly. Rising from his seat, he closed the distance to Ito's position, gripping the student's collar with immense force as his tone dropped into a freezing register: "Hey! Refrain from continuously evaluating an individual's value strictly through external visual data!"
"Eh?"
Terrified that the class leader was about to launch a high-velocity kinetic strike against his jaw, Ito trembled with absolute panic.
"Furthermore, don't conclude that dangling a toothpick from your mouth grants you the authority to operate with unmitigated arrogance. It disrupts my baseline satisfaction parameters."
"I-I apologize!"
The class leader, who had been projecting the aura of a literal demon a mere microsecond prior, instantaneously reverted to a cheerful, beaming expression the exact moment the apology cleared. The sheer velocity of his emotional shifting was a masterclass in behavioral control.
"Well, as long as the comprehension data has successfully logged... ensure you monitor your parameters next time, copy?"
Witnessing Wataru Date proactively step into the line of fire to shield Furuya Rei across two successive events, Hagiwara's eyes darted with chaotic amusement as a mischievous smirk broke across his features: "Class Leader, could it be that you... harbor romantic preferences for Little Furuya?"
"Cough—!!"
Furuya Rei was instantaneously neutralized by his miso soup for the second time in recent history.
Wait. Why exactly was his consciousness cataloging this event with the modifier of "the second time"?
Right, because during a prior timeline, Hisano had similarly deployed a playful interrogation regarding whether Furuya harbored a romantic fascination for his coordinates...
"Seriously, why exactly does the role of the primary casualty continuously fall onto my sector? Do my baseline parameters project some bizarre magnet for these specific scenarios?!"
"Hey, hey! Cease the dissemination of unverified structural fabrications, Hagiwara!"
Kenji Hagiwara maintained an exceptionally progressive stance, stating with absolute candor: "There is zero issue here, right? Personal emotional data points require zero structural suppression, I harbor absolute neutrality toward such parameters..."
Furuya Rei: You might harbor neutrality, but my internal system registers a massive conflict!
Wataru Date's facial muscles twitched with absolute exasperation. Speaking as a thoroughly defined, traditional heterosexual entity, he found Hagiwara's cognitive trajectory completely incomprehensible.
"How could that be mathematically possible? I am already locked into a definitive relationship with a girlfriend!"
"Eh——?!"
Every single individual anchored to the table was instantaneously petrified, with Hagiwara's jaw dropping so low it bordered on a complete structural detachment.
Though Satoru Gojo had cross-referenced this specific dataset long ago, he smoothly adjusted his facial configuration to project an appropriate simulation of mild surprise.
"Your collective shock levels are tracking far beyond reasonable parameters!"
Date scratched his head, his features relaxing into a rare, self-conscious display: "Our parameters have been synchronized for a considerable duration... In objective reality, she likewise processes a segment of foreign genetic lineage, and was historically subjected to derogatory societal critiques owing to her external visual variance. Consequently, I refused to sit idle while Furuya encountered an identical treatment loop."
"So that constitutes the underlying structural catalyst."
Kenji Hagiwara pursued the data trail with immense fervor: "What is the current status of the timeline? Are there definitive logistical plans to execute a marriage contract?"
Date offered a warm smile: "The trajectory mandates a formal visitation sequence to our respective parental units first... If the verification loops clear without error, the engagement protocol will be officially initiated."
"Wow——!"
The remaining members of the circle remained locked in a state of cognitive recovery. They had collectively operated under the working thesis that every entity at the table exhaled the pristine aroma of absolute singlehood, yet it turned out the class leader constituted the ultimate defector from the ranks.
Evaluating the current board state, Hagiwara achieved immediate clarity regarding the baseline landscape: "Excluding Date, am I correct in calculating that none of you have ever processed a romantic relationship loop?"
"Correct."
Hiromitsu Morofushi maintained absolute composure: "I harbor the distinct impression that our current timeline is simply unsuited for processing those specific lifestyle parameters."
Furuya Rei shrugged his shoulders, signaling an absolute deficit of interest regarding the topic.
Gojo propped his cheek against his palm, biting down on a section of his taiyaki: "As for my sector, my computational models are entirely incapable of generating a simulation of myself navigating a romantic framework."
Matsuda let out a sharp "Ha!", smoothly exposing a classified archive: "Refrain from evaluating Hagiが原 strictly by his continuous immersion within groups of female cadets; in objective reality, the guy has never successfully established a girlfriend contract, and his primary kissing asset remains completely unutilized—"
The collective group erupted into an synchronized tease: "Ooh~"
Hagiwara raised his hands in a helpless gesture: "At the bare minimum, an entity must locate a target that triggers absolute internal alignment before launching into those specific parameters, right?"
Gojo had initially cataloged Hagiwara under the archetype of a textbook playboy, yet parsing the current data...
It turned out the man simply navigated his way through an entire field of flowers without allowing a single petal to adhere to his chassis.
Following this, Matsuda and Hagiwara launched into a mutual excavation of each other's classified historical blunders, a chaotic data download that the remaining members eagerly synthesized, breaking into roaring laughter over the absurd black-market files. The midday dining block evaporated in an exceptionally festive, high-energy atmosphere.
As the evening hours matured, the night sky presented a sparse arrangement of brilliant stars framing a luminous crescent moon.
Wataru Date stood enclosed within an isolated public telephone booth, synchronizing his communication loop with his beloved girlfriend, Natalie. Natalie had processed the data point that he had shared the details of their relationship status with his police academy inner circle, letting out a soft, affectionate critique: "We explicitly established a mutual covenant to maintain absolute data encryption until the formal parental visitations were finalized."
"My deepest apologies, the data simply cleared my filters naturally as the flow of conversation advanced..."
Natalie pursued the next item on the agenda: "So, have you verified the schedule updates regarding your father's arrangements?"
"There is zero necessity for concern, simply bypass my old man's operational vector entirely."
"You are deploying that specific defensive response again." Natalie let out a soft sigh, smoothly re-routing the topical coordinates: "Moving past that, what is the current assessment of the academy campus?"
"Hahaha, it is populated entirely by fascinating specimens, boredom is mathematically impossible within this environment."
The distinct facial profiles of the remaining five members converged inside Date's cognitive processor.
"There are entities who possess a baseline addiction to physical combat, and entities who display an elite proficiency in cultivating connections with the opposite sex..."
"An individual who projects absolute tranquility across his daily operations, yet covertly executes high-intensity, deep-background investigations behind the scenes..."
"An individual who, much like your own profile, is continuously bound by a specific internal weight simply because his external presentation diverges from the societal baseline..."
"Furthermore, an individual who ostensibly projects an absolute disregard for the collective external world, yet unfailingly extends a definitive lifeline the exact microsecond another entity encounters a structural crisis..."
Date's lips curved into a proud smile: "The next instance a viable logistical window manifests, I will formally introduce their parameters to your vector, Natalie."
"Mm, I shall hold that expectation within my primary processing queue..."
Across alternate coordinates, Satoru Gojo and Hiromitsu Morofushi were curled across the dormitory sofa, systematically processing a high-intensity video game block.
Owing to the reality that the subsequent dawn ushered in an official rest period, extending their operational hours into the late night introduced zero structural violations. The premium console Gojo had imported into the universe had finally been granted an optimal window to showcase its computing power.
They maintained continuous execution for a solid two hours before Morofushi's system registered the initial indicators of sleep pressure.
"Goodnight, Little Hiro."
"Goodnight, Hisano-kun."
Executing a wide stretch, the youth exchanged standard sign-off protocols with Gojo and migrated to his mattress, slipping smoothly into a perfectly stable sleep cycle. It was an absolute objective truth that Morofushi constituted the definitive manifestation of an idealized roommate asset.
Whenever Gojo processed an excessive payload of potato chips, Morofushi would seamlessly position a heated mug of milk enriched with premium honey directly adjacent to his hand, ensuring the base was anchored by a dedicated coaster to completely shield the wooden desktop furniture from thermal degradation. He processed his sleep cycles without generating a single drop of snoring feedback, was entirely immune to producing erratic acoustic noise anomalies, and wielded a borderline supernatural efficiency regarding storage and spatial organization parameters.
Furthermore, despite the reality that his recent schedules had been entirely consumed to the point where he lacked the bandwidth to execute bespoke culinary sessions for Gojo's sector, he never failed to route a surplus portion of confections to his tray during their cafeteria runs.
Gojo terminated the console's power supply, shifting his physical form onto his mattress.
Speaking of which, ever since the system had explicitly stated its intention to "go off-line to resolve an internal structural conflict," its presence had failed to register across several consecutive days. Fortunately, his current operations encountered zero scenarios that mandated the deployment of its specific assets... Hm? Was this a data point that required him to harbor a sense of systemic relief?
Right at that exact microsecond, a thoroughly familiar electronic chime detonated inside his consciousness—
[Host! My system presence has successfully re-established a localized connection!]
Could this constitute a textbook manifestation of verbal manifestation parameters?
Gojo initiated an internal dialogue within his mind: System, what specific geographic sector or dimensional plane have you been drifting through over the past few blocks of time?
[Hehehe, I naturally routed my operational trajectory straight back to the primary superior command unit.] The system's tone carried an unmistakable layer of digitized smugness: [I have successfully engineered and cleared the deployment protocol for a brand-new functional asset!]
A brand-new functional asset?
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100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter
10 Reviews = 1 Bonus chapter