Kurosawa Jin's dormitory seemed to be a special single-occupancy unit with decent bedding. Satoru Gojo had a good night's sleep. Waking up to the faint light filtering through the window, he found himself in a great mood.
He wanted to lounge in bed for a while longer, but he saw the neatly dressed Kurosawa Jin frowning at him as if he were looking at something filthy. Jin tossed a black tactical turtleneck—identical to his own—onto Gojo.
"Put it on. We're heading out to assemble."
Gojo narrowed his eyes and slowly began to get ready.
Normally, he should have thrown some harsh words back at the kid, but he had already tested the boundaries: even minor OOC (out-of-character) moments didn't trigger a system warning. However, perhaps due to the deep integration of Satoru Gojo's memories, he could naturally display the unique arrogance of the Gojo clan's young master at any moment. It felt like exactly how he was supposed to be.
No wonder everyone admired the strong... this feeling of looking down on the world was truly intoxicating.
Gojo put on the clothes and checked himself in the mirror.
His porcelain face was fair and tender, almost glowing. As expected, a good-looking person makes any outfit look good; the black turtleneck made him even more striking. The "Workaholic" looked pretty good in his, too. Sigh, just a tiny bit less handsome than me, though.
It had to be said... he had the potential for narcissism from a young age.
He finished washing up quickly and followed the crowd to the training grounds. Everyone lined up in an orderly fashion. After a whistle from Instructor Tequila, they split into pairs and began hand-to-hand combat drills.
Aside from the annual "Elimination Matches" and classroom demonstrations, weapons were currently prohibited; they could only use their fists and feet.
Gojo watched from the sidelines. He saw fists hitting flesh; though it was just a drill, no one showed any mercy. One boy was beaten until several teeth fell out; after spitting out a mouthful of blood, he counterattacked, hitting his opponent so hard the other boy vomited stomach acid.
"Shark vs. Christopher. Shark wins."
As the recorder's voice fell, the boy named Shark limped up to claim his prize: a bag of soft, delicious blueberry bread.
The daily meals for the children here weren't exactly gourmet; they were just enough to maintain basic nutrition. After all, a qualified assassin must learn to endure harsh conditions. Gojo stared at the bread, but his mind was filled with Kikufuku, chocolate, and ice cream... The craving for sweets made him lick his lips, his brain momentarily spacing out.
Suddenly, he heard his own name.
"Satoru Gojo vs. Jin Kurosawa. Step forward."
The two youths stood opposite each other, one white-haired and one golden-haired. The atmosphere was incredibly tense. Seeing Gojo's lazy posture—looking as if he weren't even in the zone—Kurosawa Jin let out a cold sneer.
Gojo could read a single sentence in his eyes: "I'm going to beat you until you're paralyzed."
On the side, Tequila said, "Satoru Gojo, though you are a newcomer, I believe in your strength. Therefore, I've assigned the training camp's top student to be your opponent... Note: Stop when the point is made."
A second later, he blew the whistle.
Gojo saw a wave of composure flow into Kurosawa Jin's green pupils, yet his body radiated a bone-chilling killing intent. In the eyes of the onlookers, the outcome was a foregone conclusion.
Compared to an assassin, the exquisite white-haired boy looked more like a young master from a noble family—dignified, yet seemingly powerless.
They whispered among themselves: "Last time I saw Kurosawa give that look... he broke Yamada's leg..."
"The white-haired kid is finished... Hah, someone that arrogant deserves a lesson."
"I wouldn't be so sure... did you all forget what happened yesterday?"
"So what? That's Kurosawa."
"Kurosawa! Give him a good thrashing!"
Kurosawa Jin lunged forward instantly, his fist swinging toward Gojo's chest with a whistling wind. Gojo dodged with unhurried ease, simultaneously trying to repeat his trick of kicking the opponent away.
However, Kurosawa Jin reacted in time, evading the attack and following up with a barrage of punches. Each strike was more vicious than the last, aimed at Gojo's vital points.
His attacks were sharp and relentless. Gojo, by contrast, dodged repeatedly, yet his center of gravity remained rock-steady.
"Coward, all you do is hide?" Kurosawa Jin taunted, trying to find a flaw in Gojo's defense. However, an increasing sense of unease filled his heart. This kid named Gojo... he felt...
Like he simply couldn't touch him!
At that moment, Gojo sighed and said with boredom, "Forget it, I'm done playing with you."
"What?"
Before Kurosawa Jin could realize what was happening, the white-haired boy appeared behind him like a ghost. Like a spring snapping into action, Gojo's left foot pivoted on the spot, his right foot stepped forward, and his left arm curved to swiftly grip Jin's wrist. Forcing him forward, he executed a beautiful shoulder throw.
"Too slow."
Kurosawa Jin slammed heavily into the ground, pinned by an exaggerated amount of force, unable to move. A cloud of dust rose around him.
Silence fell over the area. Even Tequila hadn't clearly seen Gojo's movements; he rubbed his eyes, marveling at the formidable new generation.
Kurosawa Jin was still in shock.
With just one move, he had lost... lost to this arrogant brat.
How was that possible? Ever since Kurosawa Jin arrived on this island, he had never known defeat. Everyone who saw him would move away in fear. Yet he, someone so powerful... had lost so easily.
Suddenly, he recalled what the boy had said to Vermouth: "Because... I am the strongest, after all."
So this guy... wasn't talking nonsense.
[Ding! Impression Points from story character Kurosawa Jin increased by 500.]
Gojo slowly released him. Kurosawa Jin froze for a moment, then stood up, stiffly dusting off his clothes and looking toward the figure.
He knew he had been trying to beat the kid half to death, yet even though Gojo had won, he only threw him to the ground without even causing a superficial injury.
Kurosawa Jin, whose moral compass hadn't fully formed yet, felt his "eye for an eye" worldview take a slight hit.
Still, seeing Gojo subdue him in front of everyone with such a casual attitude was incredibly annoying.
"Tch... you win."
Kurosawa Jin spat out the words gloomily and signaled the recorder to announce the result. Gojo received a bag of blueberry bread. He tasted a piece; it was sweet, delicious, and filled with jam. His taste buds, which naturally craved sugar, were comforted, putting him in a great mood.
About half an hour later, the drills concluded. Some went for medical treatment, while others practiced with firearms. Some worked desperately hard, while others—realizing that on top of Kurosawa Jin, there was now another freakish monster—felt they would never earn a codename and began to give up.
Gojo didn't care what others thought. As "Satoru Gojo," he was currently only interested in the strong.
Even though Kurosawa Jin couldn't last a few rounds with him, Gojo knew that at this age, the other boy was indeed quite impressive.
As for himself... the Six Eyes were just too broken. It was essentially cheating.
"Hey, you want some?"
Gojo pulled out a piece of bread and waved it in front of Kurosawa Jin, who was about to continue training. The blonde boy remained expressionless, not understanding what this annoying guy was doing, and completely ignored him.
"Actually, that hand of yours is injured, isn't it? The one I grabbed. I saw yesterday; you had it bandaged."
"...So what? A loss is a loss. Next time, I'll make you beg for mercy." Kurosawa Jin was no stranger to trash-talking. He snorted and tried to push past Gojo.
"Well, though you're still far from my level, you're decent enough."
Hearing this remark that was half-insult and half-compliment, Kurosawa Jin turned back: "You—"
Immediately, something soft was stuffed into his mouth.
The sweet and sour taste of blueberry jam danced on his taste buds. Kurosawa Jin was forced to eat half of it before spitting the rest out.
"Do you want to die?!" The golden-haired youth spat through clenched teeth. "I don't like sweets!"
"Huh? Then what do you like?" Gojo, with a piece of bread hanging from his mouth, still looked like a brat, yet said: "I don't believe there are people in this world who don't eat sweets."
"I... why should I tell you?"
Kurosawa Jin was flushed with anger. At this moment, he finally looked a bit like a child, though his words remained violent: "Just wait, I'll kill you sooner or later."
"Sooner or later? In your next life?"
"..."
Watching the shifting expressions on the other's face, Gojo could almost hear the dreamlike sound of Impression Points continuously hitting his account. Simultaneously, a strange sense of amusement made him flash the mischievous grin of a young "cat-head."
"Stop being stubborn. Sweets are good, right?"
Kurosawa Jin brushed past him and walked away.
"Hey—I only let you have a bite because I think you're okay. Don't be ungrateful!"
"I said—"
"Shut up!" Kurosawa Jin barked. "I'm going to train, stop annoying me."
Those clear blue eyes blinked, showing confusion. "What is there to train for? You can't beat me anyway."
"..."
Kurosawa Jin remembered again that this person had a connection to the Boss and couldn't be touched. Furthermore, he really couldn't beat him. He endured the humiliation and stopped speaking, planning to one day tear that mouth apart.
"...Why are you following me?"
"Seeing how small fry trai—Ow!"
Kurosawa Jin finally couldn't take it anymore and tackled Gojo.
...
As for the final outcome, according to Gin's future memories, he was beaten black and blue, and Gojo took a fair share of hits as well. Thinking back, that guy definitely held back, though he hadn't realized it at the time.
Since they missed dinner, they could only split the remaining bread. They looked at the bruises on each other's faces with schadenfreude before heading back to their shared dorm, one after the other.
"Hey, annoying white-haired kid."
"Huh? What's the delinquent blondie saying?"
"...That shoulder throw. How did you do it?"
Gin truly didn't like sweets.
But... the blueberry jam in his memory didn't taste half bad.