Roy stood up, smoke curling faintly from the burn scar that marked his back.
He pressed a hand against it, and a faint blue white glow of Reversed Cursed Technique rippled over his body.
The wound fizzled, charred skin knitting seamlessly back into place.
Gojo raised his brows.
"Well, well. You've picked up RCT too, huh? That's not something you just 'dabble' in, Roy. Most sorcerers struggle their whole lives with it."
Roy rolled his shoulders, letting crimson energy flare.
"It's nothing special. Honestly, I picked it up pretty easily… unlike a certain someone I know."
Gojo's grin twitched.
He caught the weight in Roy's words, his tone sharpened by memory.
"…What did Geto tell you?"
Roy's lips curled into a smirk.
"Enough."
And with that, he spread his palm.
The building around them shuddered.
Walls groaned, floors warped, and then the structure dissolved, not into rubble, but into perfect one millimeter cubes.
A concrete ocean collapsed in silence, falling apart like digital pixels.
But as the storm of fragments fell, Roy's will twisted them, bending the cubes inward, fusing and folding them into a cage around Gojo.
The air vibrated from the pressure.
Gojo tilted his head, unimpressed.
"Creative… but useless."
He lifted a finger and tapped the hardened mass of decayed concrete.
With a faint hum, cursed energy pulsed outward, and the entire structure shattered like glass.
Dust plumed in all directions.
Roy sighed, arms dropping to his sides.
"Disappointing. The technique isn't good enough yet. It won't decay the living. Not even you."
Gojo's smile softened, curious now.
"So that's what it does…? Honestly, I'm glad. Can't have you erasing people left and right. Still."
His grin widened again.
"If you master it, who knows? Maybe one day you could."
The small talk ended there.
Roy blurred forward his heel snapped out at Gojo's temple.
Gojo ducked, countering with a Blue infused jab, that curved space around his fist like a bullet tearing through the concrete around him.
Roy slipped aside, Threadstep bursting from his sole like a jet propulsion, and drove his elbow into Gojo's ribs.
BANG.
The street buckled beneath them.
Gojo spun, heel arcing like a blade, but Roy ducked, hand snapping upward like a claw to scratch across Gojo's chest.
They became a blur of limbs.
Punch for punch.
Kick for kick.
A flurry of elbows, knees, and claw like scratches, every strike breaking walls, every collision sending shockwaves through the empty district.
A streetlight bent sideways as Roy kicked off it, twisting mid air to bring both knees down like hammers.
Gojo caught them on his forearms, smirking as he surged cursed energy through his guard.
"Not bad."
He retaliated with a palm strike powered by Blue, compressing the space between them and hurling Roy into a vacant car.
The vehicle folded like paper, alarms shrieking.
Roy stepped out of the wreckage, unscathed.
"Cute toy. My turn."
Threadstep ignited beneath his feet.
He zipped forward, ricocheting between broken signposts and shattered walls like a crimson pinball, the path so erratic Gojo's eyes barely tracked it.
He appeared behind Gojo, claws descending, but Gojo twisted away and fired a Red point-blank.
The explosion engulfed the block, tearing asphalt into rivers of molten black.
Roy burst through the smoke, teeth bared, his movements sharper now.
More refined.
His hands, his feet, his entire body flowed differently, less chaotic, more precise.
Gojo narrowed his eyes.
'Wait…'
Roy blocked his next punch.
Then the next.
Then slipped under the kick that should've caved in his jaw.
He wasn't just fighting anymore, he was adapting. Learning.
Gojo's six eyes locked onto Roy's gaze.
For the first time, he saw it, a ferocious crimson glow burning in those scarlet irises.
Roy had entered the zone.
Demonic Tempo thrummed in his veins.
Every strike Gojo threw was already being dissected, cataloged, countered.
The rhythm of battle had become his teacher, and he was composing a martial art tailored to Gojo himself.
Roy's brain screamed under the strain, frying neurons as it processed movements faster than humanly possible.
Blood beaded at his nostrils, but his RCT flared relentlessly, healing the damage as fast as it came.
Threadstep carried him through the air, weaving between Gojo's Blue-warped punches and the shockwaves of two more Reds.
He flipped off a collapsing street sign, spinning to drive a kick into Gojo's forearm, and then dropped to the ground, using a car door like a shield to deflect debris.
Every motion sharpened.
Every angle optimized.
Gojo ducked under a claw strike, but Roy twisted mid swing, catching his wrist and using Threadstep to whip himself behind Gojo, where he slammed a heel kick into his back.
Gojo stumbled, not from pain, but from the sheer force behind the blow.
Roy landed lightly, chest heaving, crimson aura blazing brighter than ever.
"Getting tired, Satoru? Or is it just me… catching up?"
Gojo smirked, but it was thinner now, edged with tension.
His hands flexed, cursed energy swirling dangerously at his palms.
For the first time in years, Gojo felt it.
Pressure.