The sun hung high over Port Town, bathing the docks in a harsh, relentless light. Fishermen cursed their luck, market vendors shouted themselves hoarse, and amidst it all, a crowd had gathered, buzzing with anticipation. This scene attracted the attention of Gon Freecss, an eleven-year-old boy with spiky dark green hair, hazel brown eyes, a light green outfit, and a brown backpack, carrying his fishing rod.
His reasons for coming here were different, but the exotic crowd, adorned in flowing robes and vibrant sashes, pulled him in. Women in intricately embroidered headscarves and men in fez hats and turbans murmured excitedly. The air was thick with the scent of spiced meats from nearby food stalls and the sweet aroma of baklava. Children darted between adults, clutching sweets wrapped in parchment, their laughter a bright note in the murmur of voices. This crowd circled a makeshift ring where a table and two chairs stood, the stage for today's spectacle.
At the centre, a burly hunter, muscle-bound and grinning with the confidence of a man who knew his strength, sat across from a string of opponents. One by one, he had crushed their spirits along with their arms, and the pile of prize money on the table grew ever larger.
"Step right up!" The showman, a wiry man with a voice like gravel, called out. "One last chance, folks! If no one dares challenge our undefeated champion, a HUNTER, he walks away with all the prize money!"
No one dared to come forward and understandably so. Hunters were elites of humanity, heroes of the current age, they would devote themselves to tracking down priceless items, mystical places, and unseen wonders, always hunting for something, their exploits were the stuff of legends. A hunter to most was like a mythic character brought to life in the modern age, superhumans often believed to be in possession what could only be called magical powers.
Gon stood at the edge of the crowd, eyes wide with the fascination of a child seeing daydreams. The dream of being a Hunter like his father. That's why he had come here, as news had it that the ship bound for Dolle Harbour near Zaban City, where the Hunter Exam would be hosted, would be leaving from this very town. All he dreamt about is finally becoming a hunter and meeting his father he has heard so much about.
"Anyone? No one? Has the whole town gone soft?" The showman taunted, his voice carrying over the murmurs and whispers of the gathered townsfolk.
A murmur rippled through the crowd as a tall, tired-looking man in a crisp dark business suit, with a grey suitcase in his hand, stepped forward. His dark hair was styled into an odd spiky shape similar to Gon's, and round teal shade glasses perched on his nose. The showman's eyes lit up with glee, sensing more drama.
"Looks like we finally got another challenger," the showman said gleefully.
The tall man took his seat opposite the hunter, with a hardened look on his face. He laid his bet upon the prize money like all before he did. The man sized up the hunter, saying, "You look pretty tough."
They locked hands, muscles tensed, and for a moment, it seemed as though the challenger might hold his own. But then, a loud grumble echoed from his stomach, breaking his concentration. The hunter seized the opportunity, slamming the man's arm down onto the table with a thud that silenced the crowd.
"Better luck next time," the hunter sneered, collecting himself for the next opponent. The tall man fell to the floor, tired and on the verge of unconsciousness. Gon, sensing his hunger, approached him with an apple.
The showman, ever the performer, leaned into the crowd, which was jeering and laughing at the tall man. "Is there no one left? Will our hunter take all the prize money?"
Just then, another figure stepped forward. A teenager, not much shorter than the previous challenger, with striking white hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to shimmer like gemstones. He wore black glasses, similar to the tall man, a black student uniform not of this place, other than that he also wore a lazy expression on a face beautiful enough to make the crowd draw in a collective breath. Gon watched, but much of his attention remained on tending to the tall man, as the teen approached the table and took his seat.
The hunter laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "Another one? Alright, this is the last one to beat. Let's see what you've got, kid."
The teen shrugged. "Whatever... I wouldn't even touch you if I wasn't short on cash. I see exactly 479323 bacteria of 169 distinct species crawling on that hand. You should wash your hands more often."
"Is that an insult, kid?" the hunter asked, half-confused and half-irritated.
The teen shrugged again. "You decide. Just a standard observation for me. Are you even this professional hunter?"
The expression on the hunter's face changed.
Gojo sighed, "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
With a nod, their hands locked, and the hunter's previous grin turned into a scoff. As soon as the match began, the crowd's expectations were clear: the burly hunter would effortlessly snap the cocky teen's thinner arm. But then the performance betrayed expectations. The teen's grip didn't budge; he seemed nonchalant and even bored. The hunter's face twisted with exertion, he drew all his strength, he applied all his strength, jaw clenched, but he couldn't gain an inch.
The teen yawned and, with a single decisive push, slammed the hunter's hand onto the table, the force of it echoing through the stunned silence of the crowd. The showman's jaw dropped, and then, realizing the spectacle's climax, he burst into applause, still trying to keep up the act.
"Unbelievable! We have a new champion!" he declared, grabbing and holding the teen's hand high in the air.
The hunter glared hatefully as the teen freed his hand from the showman's grip, snatched all the prize money, and shoved it into his pocket. Then he was off his seat and walked away from the shocked crowd.
"Wait a second there," the showman shouted. "We don't know the new champion's name yet."
"The name is Gojo. Satoru Gojo," said the teen without looking back, still walking. "But you don't need to remember that as I'll be out of this town tomorrow to become a Hunter, and preferably never come back."
Gon and the rest of the crowd watched the teen's back as he walked away. They murmured many things to themselves while Gon whispered to himself, "He is also here to become a Hunter? But he just defeated a hunter quite easily."
Later that day-
'Hunters, huh? They are nothing special, it seems,' Gojo thought, seated at the inn's table. 'They talked about hunters like they were this world's equivalent of Jujutsu Sorcerers, but that arm wrestling guy was just average. But judging by his heart rate and expressions he also seemed to be lying about being a hunter or just very nervous about it.'
The inn was a modest establishment, its wooden beams and low ceiling giving it a cosy, intimate atmosphere. Oil lamps cast a warm glow over the room, highlighting the intricate rugs and tapestries adorning the walls. Gojo sat at a sturdy wooden table, a spread of dishes before him: lamb kebabs, stuffed grape leaves, hummus with flatbread, and a bowl of lentil soup.
'However strange this other world is at least their food is good and familiar.'
Across from him sat an off-duty waiter, a middle-aged man with a weathered face and kind eyes. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, a stark contrast to the elegant garments of the patrons.
"It's still hard to believe you found me during that storm," Gojo said, taking a bite of the kebab. "I owe you one."
The waiter smiled, shaking his head. "It was nothing. You were drenched to the bone and half-conscious on the shore. Anyone would have done the same."
Gojo leaned back, looking around the inn. "Still, I didn't even remember the language back then. I must have seemed like a lost cause."
'Pretending to be a sea storm survivor guy with memory loss isn't something I thought I would have to do, but here am I. If I think about it that spatial anomaly that brought me here should also be caused by that storm.'
The waiter chuckled, sipping his tea. "At first, yes. But you picked up the language faster than anyone I've ever seen. A month with just a little help and a textbook? That's extraordinary."
Gojo shrugged, a lazy smile on his face. "I have a knack for these things. Skills... I pick them up quickly. It's always been like that."
"Well, you certainly made good use of your time here," the waiter said. "It's rare to see someone so determined. But why do you want to be a hunter all of a sudden."
Gojo paused, considering his response. "You said hunters are always hunting for something right? I too am like that."
'Hunting to find a way back home. Back to my world.'
The waiter nodded thoughtfully. "It's a dangerous path, but I suppose someone like you is well-suited for it. Just remember, not all battles are fought with strength alone."
Gojo's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement at the waiter's comment. "I know. Strength is just one tool among others."
'I understand that now more than ever since cursed energy doesn't seem to be a thing here and I can't use any active curse techniques. But Six Eyes seems to still work just fine, so there is something else... Another power source.'
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the inn enveloping them. The clatter of dishes, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter created a backdrop to their thoughts.
"You'll leave tomorrow, then?" the waiter asked finally, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Gojo said, his tone softening. "But I'll always remember this place and again the fact that I owe you one."
The waiter smiled, a mix of pride and melancholy in his expression. "Take care of yourself, Gojo. The world is vast and full of wonders and dangers alike. I hope you find what you're looking for."
Gojo nodded, finishing the last of his meal. "Oh that I will."
As he rose to leave, the waiter reached out, and said, "One last piece of advice: Just don't cause too much trouble."
Gojo smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."
Before he could step away, a patron at a nearby table called out, having overheard part of their conversation. "Hey, some guys were saying you are good at picking things up, prove it. Tell us something specific about this inn that most wouldn't notice."
Gojo raised an eyebrow, then smirked. He closed his eyes for a moment, replaying the scenes he had observed since he walked in. Then, with a flourish, he began his stunt.
"Alright, everyone. Let's have some fun. I'll recall everything I've seen and heard since I walked in here." He took a deep breath and began. He clapped his hands loudly to gather some attention.
"There are seven oil lamps in this room, four on the left wall and three on the right. The one closest to the door flickers slightly because the wick is uneven. The painting above the bar has a small smudge on the lower left corner because that guy keeps touching it with greasy fingers."
The guy Gojo pointed to looked like pure embarrassment.
"The table near the fireplace has a small chip on its edge just made a moment ago by that kid, and the woman sitting there dropped her napkin twice. Oh, and there's a faint smell of mint coming from the kitchen, is from the tea they're brewing."
The crowd watched, amazed, as Gojo continued.
"The man here," Gojo pointed to one of the patrons, "wears a small brass ring on his right pinky finger, which he twists whenever he's deep in thought and he has been doing for a while now. That man is from a military background and had just brought a ring for a woman and is nervous about how he should approach her."
The man stammered. "Y-You are correct. But how?"
Gojo ignored this question, and continued, "This man over here on the corner table has a habit of tapping his foot three times before taking a sip of his drink. And the music playing in the background—it's a traditional tune, but there's one string out of tune on the lute."
The inn fell silent as everyone turned to verify Gojo's observations. Sure enough, each detail was spot on. The patron who had challenged him sat back, eyes wide with disbelief.
An old man laughed. "Remarkable! You have a mind like a steel trap. When I was young, I could do that too."
Gojo shrugged nonchalantly. "Just something I've always been able to do. But there's one more thing," he added. "A deadly black spider has crawled into the inn on the back of a back who can't seem to notice. It's crawling up on the table of that blonde guy in tunic over there."
Everyone's heads whipped around to the table Gojo indicated. Sure enough, a large, menacing black spider was making its way across the table surface. The patrons gasped, some shouting out in alarm.
"Don't move!" someone cried.
"Stay still!" another urged.
The blonde teen at the table, however, showed no hint of fear. His eyes, a moment ago a calm grey turned a crimson red. With lightning speed, he grabbed a fork and stabbed the spider cleanly through its body. The impaled spider twitched once before the boy flicked his wrist, sending the fork and spider flying across the room to embed itself in the wall.
Gojo, looking utterly relaxed, stood up. "Well, that was interesting," he said, stretching. The other patrons were astonished, looking at the folk in the wall, so astonished that they missed the colour change of the blond teen's eyes.
"But you know what's even more interesting?" He pointed out the window. "That tall man I saw earlier in a crowd of 46 adults and 9 children, all of whom I remember just like every other person I have come across, is stealing food from a stall outside while the owner is busy chasing after a thief, and a green-haired kid is looking out for him."
A few patrons followed Gojo's gaze and saw the tall man, looking exhausted and dishevelled, hastily shoving food into his pockets while the green-haired kid, Gon, chased after him.
"Hey, stop! You can't do that!" Gon shouted, his voice carrying through the open window.
With that performance ended, Gojo turned and left the inn, stepping into the evening air, and as he went out the strange eyes of the blonde teen followed him. The town was quieter now, the earlier midday hustle and bustle replaced by a stillness.
This world is composed of a great ocean surrounding six continents, which look similar to those of Earth but are located differently. It includes 250 distinct countries. The flora and fauna of this world arearewnright fantastical and the same could be said about the diverse groups of people inhabiting this strange world. Wonderful as it may sound, it didn't make Gojo want to settle here and he still wanted to go back to Japan.
The Hunter Association of this world has rumoured to have magical powers and hidden knowledge in their archives, and even if they don't, becoming a licenced hunter will make it easier to access such information. Then there was a question of cursed techniques, while cursed energy doesn't exist here something was fuelling his innate Six Eyes. When looking through the Six Eyes, this source seemed to be white luminesce that every living being here seems to emit even Gojo himself, although the intensity and frequency of each varied.
'I haven't come across anyone with higher intensity than me, but that green-haired boy's luminosity from this morning has been highest among the people I have seen here.'
This luminosity was just leaking out and dissipating into the environment just like how cursed energy acts among the non-sorcerers, so when Gojo applied basic cursed energy manipulation techniques to it it seemed to work almost the same, albeit with less efficiency. Containing the energy to stop it from leaking, strengthening the body by shrouding oneself with it, or just a particular body part by focusing the energy on it, or simply using it for explosive power boosts.
Then there came a problem with this. His body even after living here a month didn't seem to adapt to the energy fash enough for it to have some meaningful use. For now, this luminosity was mostly useless to him.
"I need to figure out what exactly this thing is and if I can use this as a supplement for cursed energy. This is all on the way to finding a way back home. So much work."
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