Greetings fellow readers, MasterW here
Now, with the last chapter of the battle of Strongest.
I saw some having problem with Akira fighting with Gojo, but there is a reason for that. And I showed it in the last Omake. Also if you want an explanation here, is because I don't like simple curb-stomps, there is no fun in that.
But well, now that we are here, I wanted to ask. There is an arc I am planning for our MC's backstory on DS3, which I wanted to ask, what would you prefer
-Full chapter of backstory
-Backstory positioned like an Omake in the chapters.
Well, without any further to do, enjoy!
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(Third Person's POV)
The battle had entered a new, terrifying phase.
The initial exchanges of their innate techniques and their domain clashes were over
They already figured each other's technique
Now, it was a brutal, high-speed chase through the skeletal remains of the fabricated city, a game of cat and mouse.
And to the absolute shock of every spectator, the roles were clear: Gojo Satoru was the prey, and Yoshioka Akira was the hunter
The shift had been palpable.
After Gojo's successful Hollow Purple had forced a momentary stalemate, something in Akira had changed.
He was now... serious
Gojo, leveraging the precious seconds before Akira's Cursed Technique fully recovered, fought with creativity.
He launched volleys of Red and Blue creating chaotic vortices of attraction and repulsion that shredded the landscape, all to pin down the white-haired blur.
But Akira's movements were phenomenal. He was a ghost in the storm.
He flowed through the battlefield
He leaped from a flying chunk of debris, his feet barely touching it before he used the momentum to change direction mid-air, a Red sphere passing through the space he'd occupied a millisecond before.
Every evasion was a masterclass in economy of motion, each millimetre of movement calculated to perfection
And each dodge seamlessly transitioned into a counter-attack, forcing Gojo to constantly defend.
Then Gojo tore the upper half of a skyscraper loose with "Blue" and hurled it at Akira like a colossal javelin.
Even without his technique, Akira was a nightmare
Gojo's Six Eyes, analysing the flow of Cursed Energy, saw something that bordered on artistry.
Akira wasn't just reinforcing his limbs. In the instant before a movement, his Cursed Energy would flash through his entire musculoskeletal system, reinforcing individual muscle fibres, tendons, ligaments, and bones with microscopic precision, before coalescing into a solid shell around the limb
It was a level of control and manipulation of Curse Energy that was humbling, even to the possessor of the Six Eyes.
As the building-sized projectile flew towards him, Akira didn't break stride.
The Thousand Demon Dagger extended in his hand, the shards separating to form a blade longer than he was tall.
A single, clean horizontal slash, and the massive structure split into a dozen smaller chunks. He flew through the resulting cloud of rubble untouched.
Gojo fired a point-blank Red when Akira kicked off one of the falling chunks, using the force to alter his trajectory, then off another, moving through the debris field like a pinball of death before materializing directly in front of Gojo.
The blade flashed
Gojo gasped, lurching back.
His left hand, severed at the wrist, tumbled through the air. He didn't scream; his Reverse Cursed Technique was already flaring, the stump healing instantly.
With a grunt of effort, he used "Blue" on the surrounding rubble, yanking it into a crushing sphere around the space Akira had just been.
But Akira was already gone. He stood perched on the side of another building, the hilt of his sword embedded in the concrete, holding his weight effortlessly.
He pulled the blade free and launched forward again like an unstoppable force.
Akira became a phantom, flickering in and out of sight.
He would appear from behind a collapsed overpass, his blade slicing a gash across Gojo's back.
He would drop from above, a kick reinforced to shatter steel slamming into Gojo's guard. Gojo retaliated with barrages of Red and manipulated rubble, but Akira was always a step ahead, a millimetre out of reach, his movements a perfect, unpredictable rhythm.
Cuts and bruises appeared on Gojo faster than his RCT could fully erase them.
"He's not playing around anymore, is he?" Gojo muttered to himself, a trickle of blood running from his neck as he barely dodged a decapitating swing.
Finally, Akira halted.
He stood atop the last standing radio tower in the city, the metal groaning under his weight. He held the Thousand Demon Dagger's hilt, but the blade had retracted, reforming into a wickedly sharp tanto no longer than his forearm. But that wasn't the most alarming change.
Dozens, no, hundreds, of the blade's individual shards had detached.
They now orbited Akira in a wide, shimmering cloud, each fragment humming with lethal intent, reflecting the dim light like a constellation of deadly stars.
Gojo stared up from the ruined street below, a wide, exhilarated grin spreading across his face despite his injuries. He wiped blood from his neck
"Wow," he breathed, his voice a mix of exhaustion and pure adrenaline. "So, the boss just entered his second phase. This is awesome"
Then Akira, raised his hand, and muttered
"Restore"
Right in front of him, appeared the giant piece of the overcross bridge he had erased once before, being launched towards Gojo
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The spectator room was a chamber of held breaths and wide eyes, the air thick with the tension radiating from the screens.
The battle had escalated beyond anything they could have imagined.
"It seems Yoshioka got serious," Kusakabe stated, his usual gruffness replaced by a tone of grim observation.
The evidence was undeniable on the screen.
"He's forced Gojo entirely onto the defensive," Nanami added, adjusting his glasses. The sight of the "strongest" being hunted and cut down was still settling in.
"His Cursed Technique has fully returned," Shoko noted, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. "That means Gojo can no longer rely on his own techniques offensively. Any 'Blue,' 'Red,' or 'Purple' will just be erased the moment Yoshioka focuses on it."
Mei Mei let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Gojo has received more cumulative damage in these last thirty seconds than in the entire rest of the fight combined. Yoshioka-kun really is going all out now. Maybe I will truly recover my inversion"
Beside her, Utahime watched the screen, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. A thought, once unthinkable, now whispered in her mind. 'Could... could Gojo actually lose?'
Principal Yaga, standing stoically beside her, seemed to sense her turmoil. "Let's see what will happen," he rumbled, his voice a low anchor in the storm of their anxiety. "The outcome is no longer a foregone conclusion"
Among the students, the atmosphere was a chaotic mix of shock, worry, and fierce pride.
"Whoa! Did you see that?!" Hana nearly shouted, pointing at the screen where Akira had just materialized the entire bridge section. "He just brought a whole bridge back out of nowhere! 'Restore' is so cool!"
"Cool? It's terrifying!" Yuria countered, though a hint of awe was in her voice. "He's basically pulling an entire arsenal out of his pocket. But I wonder, when is he going to 'Restore' the 'Purple' and fire it back?"
"That would be... problematic," Zaimozuka mused, his brow furrowed in thought. "For Gojo-san, I mean"
Miko, however, was watching the fight with a more analytical eye, her own sharp sensory abilities trying to parse the impossible speeds. "It's not just the techniques," she said quietly. "Look at how Sensei is moving. Before, he was precise, but now... it's like he's not even thinking. His body just knows what to do. This is completely different from when he fights against us, he is truly using everything in his arsenal now"
On the Jujutsu High side, the mood was more sombre.
"He's actually pressuring Gojo-sensei," Panda said, his stuffed animal face somehow conveying deep concern. "I've never seen anyone do that."
"Salmon," Inumaki agreed grimly.
Maki's jaw was tight, her eyes fixed on the screen. "It's his reinforcement. Yoshioka's control over Cursed Energy is on a different level. Gojo-sensei is powerful, but Yoshioka's skill is... much more refined, and he doesn't even have the cheating 'Six Eyes' the idiot have. It's like comparing a sledgehammer to a surgeon's scalpel."
"But the sledgehammer is the one that's supposed to win in a straight fight!" Kirara protested.
"Not when the scalpel can move faster than the sledgehammer can swing," Hakari countered, his usual bravado subdued. "And not when the scalpel user can also summon sledgehammers of his own." He gestured to the screen where the bridge had just been used as a projectile.
Ayase Momo, huddling a bit closer to Okarun, whispered, "They're both so... strong. It's scary"
Okarun, clutching the Maneki-neko doll containing the Turbo Granny, could only nod mutely.
Saeko, her hand resting on the hilt of her own new katana, watched her sensei's movements with rapt attention. The way he flowed from evasion to attack, the absolute lack of wasted motion, it was a level she aspired to. "He's not holding back at all now," she murmured. "This is his true form"
Beside her, Zen'in Mai let out a derisive sniff, though her eyes betrayed her interest. "Tch. So, the mysterious teacher isn't just a pretty face with a hax technique. He can actually fight"
Lala, still clinging to Shigeo's arm, looked up at him with worried eyes. "Shigeo-kun... will Sensei be, okay? The other white-haired man is very strong too."
Shigeo watched the screen, his expression unreadable but his focus absolute.
He could feel the immense power radiating from both combatants, even though the screen. "Sensei... is strong," he said simply, his faith unwavering. "But so is Gojo-san. I think... they are both giving everything they have."
Shigeo watched the fight between the two Special grade sorcerers, and even though he is considered one as well thanks to his technique and his massive Curse Energy pool, he feels utterly lacking.
Both sorcerer fighting on the screen were on another level completely, making his 'Special Grade' rank feel like a joke.
He wanted…. To get to their level
He needs to get stronger
Clenching his fist, he continued watching the fight. Lala beside him, saw his pained expression and his clenched fist, so she wrapped her own hand around his fist.
Shigeo feel the warm of her hand and turned to her. She gave him a reassuring smile which he returned, now calmer thanks to Lala's warmth
The room fell into a tense silence as the battle on the screens intensified further, every student, from both the students of Yoshioka and both Jujutsu Highs, united in the shared, breathless anticipation of witnessing a clash that would redefine their understanding of what "power" truly meant
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The fabricated city had become only ruins and debris, and Gojo Satoru was losing terrain faster than he could strategize.
With a burst of "Blue" he vanished from one crumbling rooftop, warping space to reappear on a distant overpass a kilometre away.
He didn't pause, immediately launching a "Blue" towards a nearby building to collapse it towards his previous position, followed by a "Red" that pulverized another structure into a cloud of shrapnel, which he then telekinetically hurled as a shotgun blast of debris.
It was a futile effort.
The cloud of shimmering shards orbiting Akira simply redoubled their tempo, whirling into a blender of cursed steel that sliced the incoming rubble into harmless dust.
And in the millisecond of cover that provided, Akira was already moving, not just towards Gojo's last location, but predicting the endpoint of his spatial hop.
He emerged from the dust cloud as Gojo solidified on the overpass, the shards lashing out first, each one carrying the domain-like amplification that bypassed the Limitless, scoring a dozen fresh cuts on Gojo's arms and torso.
Before Gojo could react to the stinging onslaught, Akira was inside his guard. The tanto, held in a reverse grip, stabbed deep into Gojo's thigh.
The shock of the precise, nerve-targeting strike made him falter for a split second—long enough for Akira to wrench the blade free and thrust it into his stomach.
The feeling of cold steel sliding effortlessly through his defences, through his limitless
Gojo gasped, throwing himself backward with a burst of cursed energy.
But the shards were like hunting dogs; they followed him, slicing at his retreating form. He was forced to expend more energy, activating a wide-area "Blue" to repel them, sending the shards skittering away like scattered glass.
He clutched his bleeding stomach, the wound already sealing, and analysed the shards as they returned to orbit Akira.
'They're all connected' he realized, his Six Eyes tracing the near-invisible threads of cursed energy linking each fragment back to the pommel in Akira's hand. 'It's one tool. He's not controlling a thousand pieces individually; he's guiding one entity with a thousand parts. That control is... insane' He watched the flawless, fluid movements, the absolute precision without the aid of a genetic cheat like the Six Eyes.
The gap in their skills was a chasm.
'His technique forces him to rely on physical combat,since it doesn't have many offensive applications' Gojo thought, a grudging respect forming. 'And he's turned that limitation into an art form'
The plan was simple: separate the weapon from the wielder.
It was a classic tactic. Without the sword and its shards, Akira's offensive pressure would plummet. Even if slightly
Gritting his teeth, Gojo launched himself forward in a feint, knowing Akira would predict it.
He allowed the tanto to slice across his torso, a searing line of pain he ignored.
As the blade passed through him, he committed his own counter. His fist, now blazing with an internal, condensed application of "Blue", a crude but powerful mimicry of Akira's own micro-reinforcement he'd observed, slammed into the sword's pommel. Since the energy was generated and contained within his body, it bypassed Akira's passive erasure field.
The impact was solid. The Thousand Demon Dagger was torn from Akira's grasp, clattering away across the broken asphalt.
'Got it!' Gojo thought, a surge of triumph quickly extinguished by cold dread.
Because Akira didn't even flinch.
The disarming was not a setback, he turned it into a transition.
In less than a millisecond, he had recovered his stance. One hand shot out, not to strike, but to grab and tear at Gojo's guard, unbalancing him with shocking ease. The other hand, a closed fist, was already driving towards Gojo's face. And this fist carried a terrible, familiar distortion.
"Black Flash..."BLAM!
The world exploded in black and red light.
It was a concussive blast to Gojo's very soul, disorienting him, making his brain rattle in his skull for a precious microsecond.
Akira didn't let the moment go. A reinforced knee lifted into Gojo's stomach.
"Black Flash...."BLAM!
Gojo hunched over, blood spraying from his mouth as the force lifted him off his feet. He was utterly open. Akira spun, a roundhouse kick connecting with his ribs.
"Black Flash" BLAM!
The third consecutive impact launched Gojo like a ragdoll, smashing him back-first into the wall of a half-collapsed office building, embedding him in the concrete.
The trio of Black Flashes roared through his system, causing internal damage faster than his Reverse Cursed Technique could comfortably repair. He coughed, a splatter of crimson painting the wall.
But Akira wasn't done. He was a master of relentless violence, crossing the distance in a blink.
His fist, now cocked back, didn't hum with the distortion of a Black Flash.
Instead, it seemed to draw in the light, his body radiating a terrifying density of power, reinforced down to the cellular level.
"Keltz Arts: First Form: Fist"
The punch was pure, unadulterated physical power, honed by a technique Gojo had never seen. It connected squarely with Gojo's chest.
The sound was a sickening, wet crunch of caving bone of his chest.
The force didn't just throw him through the wall he was embedded in; it carried him through the building and into the one behind it, leaving a person-shaped tunnel of destruction before he landed in a heap of rubble and rebar.
Somehow, Gojo pushed himself to his feet, his body screaming in protest, only to immediately fall to one knee, vomiting a mixture of blood and bile. His RCT was working overtime, knitting shattered ribs and pulverized organs, but the damage was immense. He looked up, his vision swimming, to see Akira already advancing again.
'No more playing around'
Gojo teleported backward, putting as much distance as he could while his hands flew through the signs, his voice a ragged chant. "Nine Ropes. Polarized Light. Crow and Declaration. Distance Between Front and Back!"
Akira accelerated, a black and white streak of death.
"Maximum..." Gojo flicked his fingers forward, for some reason blood now streaming from his nose and the corners of his eyes "Hollow Purple!"
The sphere of annihilation erupted towards Akira.
Akira, sensing the threat, immediately jumped back, creating space to chant his own 'Erase'
But as he did, his senses screamed a warning from behind.
He turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes widening a fraction. There, closing in from his rear, was another "Purple"
Akira realized.
The earlier "Blue" and "Red" he'd launched weren't failed attacks; they were preparations.
Gojo had maintained them, and during his chant for the new "Purple," he had combined the pre-existing ones, creating a second Maximum Technique in a single, brain-melting effort. Reason for his nosebleed and bloodshot bleeding eyes
Gojo watched, bleeding but grinning through the pain.
The strain of controlling two simultaneous Maximum 'Purple' had pushed his mind to its absolute limit, requiring constant RCT just to keep his brain from frying.
But seeing Akira trapped between two spheres of absolute erasure, he knew it was worth it. The only way out was to use two maximums "Erase" techniques simultaneously, which would leave Akira critically vulnerable like him. Or he could use his technique on one and received damage from the other
Akira, however, chose a different path.
He simply joined his hands.
"Domain Expansion"
Gojo's grin faltered. What? The barrier will be destroyed the moment it forms! Is he suicidal?
"Void Palace"
What happened next defied every law of known Jujutsu. What Gojo thought would happen, didn't happen
Because Akira's domain expanded, without a barrier.
The ground broken city vanished, replaced instantly by the shallow ashen lake and the bleeding sun rising a dozen meters into the sky behind Akira
The two "Purple" orbs, the pinnacle of Gojo's power, ceased to exist, silently erased by the domain's sure-hit effect the moment the reality of the "Void Palace" took hold onto the battlefield
Akira had opened a barrierless Domain Expansion.
Gojo could only stare, his mind utterly blank for the first time in the fight.
The impossible had just become reality before his eyes.
That moment of stunned disbelief was all the opening Akira needed.
Crossing the ashen ground in an instant. His fists moved straight through Gojo's last-ditch guard and connected with his face with an impact
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The spectator room was a tomb.
The screens showed the impossible
The ruined cityscape had been instantly overwritten by the desolate ash-lake and bleeding sun of Akira's domain, with no barrier to be seen.
The two "Hollow Purple" orbs had simply ceased to exist.
After several seconds that felt like an eternity, the silence was shattered by Kusakabe.
"No fucking way," he breathed, his voice a hoarse croak. He ran a hand over his head, his composure utterly shattered. "No fucking way. That's not even—I can't—" He gestured helplessly at the screen, words failing him.
"It can't be," Mei Mei whispered, her usual calculating coolness replaced by naked astonishment.
Nanami stood rigid, his hand frozen mid-adjustment of his tie
Shoko Ieri simply lit another cigarette with a slightly trembling hand, her tired eyes wider than anyone had ever seen them
Principal Yaga's stern expression was carved from stone, but the slight, almost imperceptible drop of his jaw betrayed his utter shock. He had seen years of Jujutsu history, but this was something new, something that rewrote the rules.
The adults were a monument of pure, unadulterated astonishment.
"That's insane," Hakari commented from among the students, his voice laced with an awe for a truly impossible move.
His comment broke the spell for the younger generation.
Hana, watching the veterans' reactions, turned to them in confusion. "Why is that so impossible? What's the big deal?"
Kusakabe, still reeling, pointed a shaky finger towards a table in the corner holding several water bottles. "Toss me that water," he said, his voice strained.
"Huh?" Hana blinked, confused by the non-sequitur, but she complied, picking up a bottle and tossing it to him.
"What are you doing?" Kusakabe retorted the moment he caught it, his frustration evident. "I told you to toss me the WATER!" He threw the bottle back to her.
Hana stared at the intact bottle in her hands, then at Kusakabe, her head tilted in bewilderment. "Huh?"
"That is basically it," Mei Mei interjected, her voice regaining some of its smooth composure "Can you accumulate water with no container? Can you paint on empty air without a canvas? Can you grow a flower without the ground?"
"It's like using a computer without any of the internal components," Kusakabe finished, his voice firming up with the analogy. "It is fundamentally, logically impossible. The barrier is the container. Without it, there is no domain."
"But Sensei just did it," Sakurajima Mai stated, her voice cutting through the explanations with a simple, undeniable fact.
A heavy silence fell once more as everyone's eyes returned to the screens showing the stark reality of the "Void Palace" materialized into the outside world
"Yes," Kusakabe finally conceded, his voice filled with a strange mix of astonishment and reverence "And that just proves something" He looked around at the assembled students, his gaze lingering on Akira's class. "Your sensei just did the impossible. A Domain Expansion is the pinnacle of Jujutsu. But a Barrierless Domain Expansion..." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "...that could be called the pinnacle of the pinnacle"
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Inside the stark reality of the "Void Palace," Gojo Satoru was experiencing a novel sensation: powerlessness.
Stripped of the Limitless, his body was just flesh and bone against a storm of perfected violence.
Akira was an artist of pain, and Gojo was his canvas.
A reinforced palm strike to the solar plexus drove the air from his lungs. A swift, precise kick to the back of his knee buckled his leg.
Every block was dismantled, every dodge predicted. He was being broken down, and for the first time, the Six Eyes could only watch, analysing his own defeat in excruciating detail.
He was weak here.
Truly, utterly weak. The thought was as foreign as the barren landscape around him.
The domain around them collapsed, the ashen lake reverting to shattered cityscape. The moment his Cursed Technique flickered back to life, Gojo's mind seized the opening. 'His technique is burned out! This is my chance!' He began to chant, hands moving to form the signs
"Nine Ropes. Polar—GACK!"
Akira's hand, moving faster than the incantation could leave his lips, chopped directly into his throat. Gojo's trachea crumpled with a sickening crunch, the chant dying in a strangled gurgle. Before the pain could even fully register, Akira's other hand closed around the fingers of Gojo's right hand, the ones poised for the hand sign, and squeezed.
The sound of breaking bone was a sharp, final counterpoint to the failed chant.
Gojo staggered back, his Reverse Cursed Technique flaring, repairing his throat and hand in an instant, but the message was clear: his options were being dismantled.
He was being outplayed, out-thought, and out-fought. Akira pressed the assault, a relentless barrage of blows that Gojo could only weather, his reinforced body shuddering with each impact.
A cold, unfamiliar sweat trickled down his spine as a single, terrifying thought crystallized in his mind.
'Am I... losing?'
The concept was so alien it was almost fascinating.
He was being battered, his techniques countered, his strategies anticipated. He was being thrown around the battlefield, forced to use every ounce of his power just to stay conscious.
And yet... he didn't hate it. The desperation, the struggle, the sheer effort of it all... it was exhilarating.
With a grunt of effort, he created a micro-"Blue" at his feet, launching a cloud of pulverized concrete into Akira's face as a distraction. He used the moment to teleport backward, putting several hundred meters between them, his chest heaving.
He saw the Thousand Demon Dagger, still lying where it had been knocked, fly through the air back into Akira's waiting grasp. The shards reassembled with a clink and Akira began to chant, his voice calm and deliberate.
"Once discarded..."
Gojo's blood ran cold. That wasn't the incantation for "Erase." It was probably for "Restore."
'He's going to release the 'Purple'! The one from the very beginning!'
He had to match it. He had to fire his own. He began his own chant, evading as Akira's voice continued, the sword held ready.
"Soar Through. Reborn Might"
" Nine Ropes. Polarized Light.Crow and Declaration. Distance Between Front and Back!" Gojo yelled back, leaping backward again, putting every bit of distance he could, his hand rising, fingers poised for the flick.
"Maximum..." they chanted in unison, their voices a duel of absolute finality.
Gojo's eyes were locked on Akira, his entire being focused on unleashing his "Hollow Purple" the moment the incantation ended. He would clash against whatever Akira summoned
"Hollow Purple!" "Remake"
The words echoed across the wasteland.
But Gojo's eyes widened in abject horror as the air directly in front of him distorted.
A sphere of violent, shimmering violet, his own "Purple" from the fight's opening move, materialized an arm's length from his face
There was no time to dodge, no time to erode it
The two "Purple" orbs, the one he had just formed and the one from the past, existed in the same point in space for a nanosecond.
Then, they touched.
The resulting explosion was not a sound, but the end of it.
A light that was the absence of light devoured the world.
The barrier around the battlefield, crafted by Master Tengen himself, shuddered violently, its surface rippling like water struck by a stone.
For a moment, it seemed the very fabric of the pocket dimension would tear apart. The world went pure white, then black, as every one of Mei Mei's crows that were close to ground zero were atomized.
The last thing anyone saw was Gojo Satoru, the "Strongest," being swallowed by the heart of his own doubled-power
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The spectator room was a vacuum of sound, every eye glued to the blinding white screens.
The sheer, annihilating force of the dual "Purple" detonation had been so absolute it felt like the video feed itself had lose from every single screen
A collective, frantic energy turned towards Mei Mei. No one spoke, but the silent plea was deafening: 'Fix it! We need to see!'
Mei Mei was already two steps ahead, her fingers a blur on her phone's screen, sending a terse command to her brother, Ui Ui.
The stakes were too high, the outcome too monumental to miss.
As quickly as they had vanished, the screens flickered back to life, new crows feeding a fresh signal.
The image that resolved made every single person in the room, students and veterans alike, jolt in their seats, a wave of sharp inhales sweeping through the space.
The devastation was total.
The fabricated city was gone, replaced by a vast, smooth, glassy crater that stretched to the edges of Tengen's barrier.
And in the centre of that annihilation stood Yoshioka Akira.
His torn white shirt was the only stark contrast against the grey devastation.
He stood poised, one foot planted on the ground, the other resting lightly on the chest of Gojo Satoru, who lay sprawled on his back amidst the scorched earth.
In Akira's hand, the Thousand Demon Dagger was held in a reverse grip, its tip hovering a mere millimetre from the centre of Gojo's forehead.
Gojo was conscious, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His body full of wounds that were slowly healing, his right arm missing and one his eyes had just regenerated
His stunningly blue eyes, wide with a mixture of shock, pain, and something else, a profound, weary acceptance.
There were no quips, no boasts. The fight was gone from him.
The silence in the room was thicker than before, heavy with the weight of a paradigm shattering.
Then, Akira spoke, his voice calm, clear, and utterly final, cutting through the stillness like a blade.
"Checkmate"
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(Gojo Satoru's POV)
For a few seconds, there was nothing.
A blank, white silence.
Gojo Satoru's consciousness had flickered out
In that final, desperate microsecond, he had pushed his Limitless and his Cursed Energy Reinforcement to their absolute limit, a feat of instinct and genius that had allowed his body to survive being at the epicentre of two colliding annihilation forces
But only just, he still received a ton of damage
Sensation returned as a tidal wave of pure, undiluted agony.
Every nerve ending was burning.
His vision was a smear of white static, slowly returned. A high-pitched ringing was the only thing in his ears, drowning out the world.
He tried to take stock, but his body was a single, unified scream of pain. Was his arm missing?
It didn't matter; the pain from the stump, if it was there, was just another part of the pain he collectively felt in all his body
A wry, internal thought managed to form through the haze. 'So that's what it feels like to be hit with a 'Purple'?'
His vision cleared fully, focusing on the glint of metal in front of his only good eye while the other regenerated
It was the deadly sharp tip of Akira's sword
Behind it were Akira's crimson eyes, calm, deep, and utterly unreadable. His foot a gentle but immovable weight on Gojo's chest, pinning him down.
He could probably stand. He could probably force his RCT to work faster, muster one last, defiant spark of Cursed Energy.
But the will was gone. The fight had been beaten from him, beaten out in a brutal, beautiful display of a superior skills.
He was too spent to gather the energy to do more
Then Akira spoke, his voice calm, clear, and utterly final, cutting through the ringing in Gojo's ears
"Checkmate."
That single word cemented it. The end. The result. The truth.
A slow, pained smile spread across Gojo's cracked lips. It felt strange, but not bad. It was the smile of a man who, for the first time, had touched the ground in defeat
"Yeah," He croaked, his voice raw. "I give."
The words, once unthinkable, felt like a release.
Akira nodded once. He pulled the blade back, the lethal intent vanishing as it retracted into its hilt.
He lifted his foot from Gojo's chest, allowing him to breathe fully.
Gojo felt his body kick into a higher gear, the missing arm already beginning to regenerate in a grotesque display of flesh and energy knitting itself together from the shoulder.
With a fluid motion, Akira summoned the sword's sheath and slid the blade home with a soft click. Then, both weapon and sheath dissolved
He then did the simplest, most profound thing of all: he extended his hand.
Gojo looked at the offered hand, then up at Akira's face. No gloating, no condescension. Just an offer of help.
With his newly regenerated, still-tingling arm, he reached up and grasped it. Akira's grip was firm, pulling him to his feet with an effortless strength.
His body protested, his muscles trembling from exhaustion and trauma, but he stood, holding his pained stomach
"That was a good fight, Akira," Gojo said, the words genuine
Akira gave a soft, non-committal hum. "Hmm. I say the same to you, Satoru."
Gojo stared for a second. Then started to laugh.
It was a raw, pained sound that hurt his ribs, but it was also full of a wild, incredulous joy.
"Hahahah! Motherfucker, you were holding back!" he wheezed, the realization dawning fully.
Akira, for his part, simply hummed again. "Hmm." It wasn't an affirmation, but it was far from a denial.
As his laughter subsided into pained, happy breaths, Gojo Satoru knew one thing for certain, a fact that reshaped the world in an instant.
The world now had a new "Strongest"
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(?'s POV)
"Quite the fight."
Her voice was the only sound in the empty room.
She had pulled strings, called in favours from the shadows to secure a feed.
She watched, analytical, analysing every move, as the two titans tore each other apart
A slight smile touched her lips as the final image resolved: Akira standing victorious, his sword sheathed, offering a hand to the fallen Gojo.
"Well now" she murmured to herself. "The balance of the world will surely shift."
The arrival of a new "Strongest" was not a minor event.
All her carefully laid plans would need recalibrating to account for this new, monumental variable.
She stood from the plush chair, the silk of her kimono whispering as she moved.
She walked to the window, looking down at the city sprawling beneath her, a kingdom of oblivious ants.
She would have to accelerate certain arrangements.
Move pieces across the board ahead of schedule. This Yoshioka Akira was a complication, but also, perhaps, an opportunity.
"How intriguing."
She smiled, her gaze shifting from the city lights to her own reflection in the glass.
A youthful, beautiful face stared back, marred only by the line of stitches that crossed her forehead
"Maybe I can convince Touichirou to move forward," she mused, her reflection smiling back with cold ambition. "Now that he will have another reason to."