If you'd told me a month ago I'd be throwing hands with Fushiguro Toji, I'd have called the nuthouse myself and booked myself a nice, soft room. But here I was—fists up, stepping toward him like I actually had a plan to beat him.
Was I scared? Hell yes. But fear wasn't a thing I could afford.
I closed the distance, close enough to swing. Doubts rattled in my skull, but I shoved them down—hard. It was like trying to cram an overstuffed suitcase shut. No matter what, something kept sticking out.
Screw it. I threw a combo—two straights and a hook. A move I'd picked up a few hours ago. It was about as smart as jumping into shark-infested waters after a single swim lesson and hoping for the best.
But in that moment, everything felt like a stupid idea. So I didn't pick—I just acted.
Toji moved like smoke, just enough for my punches to cut through air. He didn't even look impressed. Just gave me that bored, predatory stare—like a cat watching a particularly dumb bird.
"Too much weight on your front leg," he said, voice like a cold knife. "Bad balance."
Before I could even curse, he grabbed my wrist and twisted. "Gently" wasn't in his vocabulary. Pain shot up my arm, white-hot and vicious. Then, he threw me like a sack of garbage.
I barely managed to roll before his foot slammed down where my ribs had been a second ago. The floor cracked. If I'd been slower, they'd be scraping me off the ground like a badly assembled Lego set.
I got up, shaking out my hand.
Let's be real—nobody learns how to fight in a couple of hours. And definitely not against someone like Toji.
I needed something different.
I feinted, testing him, throwing out half-swings. But every tiny movement of his forced me back. No openings. No way in. But I had to keep moving.
He wasn't trying to kill me. If he was, I'd already be on the floor in pieces.
I reached forward, measuring the distance. At the right moment, I threw a punch, then another, then started a side kick—
Toji moved.
That's when I lunged, not to hit, but to grab. Letting my weight pull me forward, I reached—his hand shot up, probably to grab my arms or my head—
That's when I threw the real punch. A sweeping right hook aimed at his jaw.
And it landed.
I hit him. I actually hit him!
But before I could praise myself—
His knee.
Again.
Pain detonated behind my eyes. I barely got my hands up before he drove his knee into my face a second time. The world went fuzzy. My nose was broken. Probably a couple fingers too.
Then he grabbed me by the hair and threw me.
Hard.
The landing was not gentle.
I lay there, curled up, clutching my face. Blood dripped between my fingers. My blood.
I didn't understand. I didn't understand at all.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
But of course, I wasn't getting time to think.
Toji was already walking toward me. Slow.
I tried to stand, got as far as my knees before—
CRUNCH.
He swung at my body with a leg, but I blocked it with my arm.
Something inside snapped like a dry twig.
White-hot pain exploded through me.
I reeled back, gasping, clutching my ruined forearm. Every breath was ragged. Shallow.
Toji let out a slow sigh. "Even when I let you land a hit, you still end up on the ground. And you're still not blocking correctly."
"I fucking know that," I growled, gritting my teeth.
Just, screw it all. It has to end sometime, it will end. I just need to hold on a little longer. I have to do something.
I got to my feet.
I looked pathetic, but I didn't care. I must fight.
10 minutes later
Yeah, that was a bad time for me.
There's something uniquely humiliating about getting your soul punted out of your body while your opponent barely looks like he's trying.
I was covered in bruises, bleeding, and holding onto my arm like it might just fall off. Meanwhile, Toji stood there like this was just another Tuesday.
The dude was untouched. Not even a speck of dust on him.
I tried to suck in a deep breath. My ribs protested. My entire body protested. I must've looked pathetic, because Toji sighed, shaking his head.
"Still too bad," he muttered.
I forced myself up, wobbling like a newborn deer.
Toji didn't wait. He stepped forward, faster than I could react, and slammed a leg into my gut.
Oh.
That was new.
See, I was used to pain at this point. But this? This was PAIN™.
It wasn't like the liver shot, which had felt like my insides had been rearranged by an overenthusiastic interior designer. No, this one was worse—like he'd just punched my soul with the entire nervous system straight out of my body.
Air? Gone. Thoughts? Gone. Will to live? Debatable.
My feet stopped touching the floor. I was flying. And so fast.
Nope. No no no.
Crack
At a tremendous speed, my back flew into a wall that I didn't remember. The next thing was a strong blow to the back of my head against the wall from the energy.
If I hadn't used the cursed energy, I would have died.
What the hell was that?
Maybe he, Toji, was so disappointed in me that he decided to just finish quickly? Maybe I'm just a bad student?
My body began to slide and finally detached from the wall.
I landed on my feet and didn't fall.
My body screamed at me to give up, but I didn't saw any reason why I should.
Well, honestly I was wrong but in this situation i was thinking only by my feelings.
Because now I had to fight gravity just to stay on my feet.
And suddenly I saw a shadow falling on my legs. I raised my head and saw Toji.
I looked him in the eye and surprisingly felt no fear. And it would have been better if he had been there, because I simply took and swung my right hand at his jaw.
Toji barely turned his head to dodge. Then—like a freaking magician—he caught my wrist, flipped me over his shoulder, and drove me headfirst into the ground.
The world spun. My vision flickered. Something crunched.
Yeah. That one hurt.
I coughed, rolling onto my side, spitting blood onto the floor.
Toji squatted down next to me, tilting his head. Completely relaxed.
"You keep throwing bad punches," he said like we were just having a friendly conversation and not a one-sided execution.
I tried to answer. But words required lungs and lungs required air and I currently had none of those things.
"Your balance's sloppy," he continued. "You're too predictable. And you don't know how to take a hit."
I wheezed.
"Alright," I croaked. "Let's… slow down… so I can take notes."
Toji snorted. "You wouldn't know what to do with 'em even if you had 'em."
Then he grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me back to my feet. My legs weren't ready for that, so I wobbled like a broken marionette.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Gojo still lounging in his stupid chair, sipping what I assumed was another can of disappointment.
"HEY!" I yelled—or, more accurately, I tried to yell, but it came out like a dying cat.
Gojo didn't react.
And Toji didn't care.
He just cocked his fist back—and I knew I wouldn't dodge this one.
Then he swung.
And I felt everything.
The impact sent me flying backward, landing flat on my back, arms sprawled, gasping like a fish out of water.
I lay there. Staring at the endless sky.
Blood dripped from my face, pooling onto the white marble. My body wasn't even registering pain properly anymore.
Toji cracked his knuckles. "Get up."
Yeah. I'd love to.
Too bad my entire body had just quit on me.