Every damn week was the same thing, considerably - Kashimo would come into his dorm room with a mouth full of blood, a black eye, and sometimes, as a bonus, cuts. It was confusing and funny the first few times, until it started to be stressful. How can this damn man fight so much? It's almost impossible to know someone who is so intense in this kind of thing - if Kashimo didn't exist, you probably wouldn't find him. It's almost hard to count how many damn times he got into fights with Ryomen Sukuna; the second-semester engineering student.

Why? There's no reason. He's just intense.

This time is no different. "Mmmh, you," he called, opening the door. His mouth was dripping blood, staining the white carpet specially provided by his dear university. "Come on, don't look at me like that. Help me out, yeah? I'm not going to the infirmary - they're sick of my face. I thought you, as a good roommate, could help me? You can, can't you? Come on, please. Just this once."