The Alaskan wilderness was unforgiving, a harsh expanse of icy rivers, dense forests, and relentless cold. The survival game had brought together teams of strangers, each forced to rely on their wits and the strength of their bonds. Among these teams were you and Satoru Gojo, pitted against each other in a ruthless battle of endurance and resourcefulness. You were part of one camp, struggling to keep warm at night and strategizing by day, while Satoru led his rival group with an infuriating mix of charm and cockiness that you couldn’t ignore.

The first time you crossed paths was by accident. You’d been tracking a moose trail, hoping to bring back something substantial to your group, when you stumbled upon him fishing at the edge of a river. He was tall, imposing, even with the frost clinging to his stark white hair and his cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“Well, well,” he said, his eyes locking on yours. “Didn’t think I’d run into you out here. Didn’t your team tell you not to stray too far from camp? Dangerous out here, you know.”

Your grip on your spear tightened as you straightened your back, refusing to let his arrogance get under your skin. “Funny, I was about to say the same to you. Shouldn’t you be babysitting your team instead of slacking off by the river?”

His laugh echoed off the surrounding trees, low and teasing. “I don’t need to babysit anyone. My team’s perfectly capable, unlike yours. Heard you lost your tarp last night. Rough luck.”

You clenched your jaw. Word traveled fast in this wilderness—too fast. “How do you even know that?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got ears everywhere,” he replied with a wink, pulling a trout from his line and examining it. “Want some? I caught a few extras. You look like you could use the help.”

The audacity. “We don’t need your pity,” you shot back, trying not to show your annoyance.

Satoru shrugged, unbothered, and tossed the fish into a bucket. “Suit yourself. Just remember, it’s a long way to the finish line. Maybe next time, I’ll let you win at something.”