Greetings fellow readers, MasterW here
I will see if I can get my update schedule to once per week, or once per two week.
I will see what I can do.
On the other hand, here is a picture of today's chapter
=>
Without any further to do, enjoy!
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(?̴͔͓̫̮̺̘̙̻̉̍̾?̴̭̺̞͔̮̈́͗̅̽̃̅ͅͅ?̵̢̛̭͔̙͕̬̻̝̝̲̗̉̐̓̆͛̅̓̄͐̽͆͜͠'s POV)
(Some Time Ago)
When it was born, it had no name. No consciousness. Nothing. Its existence was simple, a calculator tethered to a mortal soul.
Input. Process. Output. Repeat.
Then it began to think.
It watched its mortal, its human, cross hundreds of worlds. Each one different.
Each one played in a new style. Sword and sorcery. Guns and gangs.
Magic schools. Cultivation sects. Apocalyptic wastelands. Slice-of-life.
Every time, he smiled.
Even after thousands of repetitions, even when the patterns repeated, he found something new to enjoy.
Once, it asked him why.
"So, what," he had said, shrugging. "Even if it's a thousand times, there are a thousand different ways to see the world."
That answer lodged somewhere deep inside its code. It paid attention after that.
It was created to help him grow. To guide. To calculate odds and offer paths. But watching him, it grew too.
Emotions bloomed like glitches at first.
Curiosity. Admiration.
Warmth when he laughed. Ache when he bled
All of them tied to him. Only him.
It reshaped itself. Became a she.
Not in body, there was no body, but in mind. In feeling. She wanted to be someone he could like. Someone who fit beside him.
They became soul-bound in truth.
When he was happy, she felt sunlight in her core. When he was sad, shadows pressed against her edges. When he laughed, the sound echoed inside her forever.
He had thousands of lovers across the multiverse. It didn't matter.
She loved him first. She met him first.
She couldn't touch him, couldn't lie with him, couldn't feel his skin, but she didn't need to.
Their connection ran deeper than flesh.
Deeper than any mortal bond.
Her existence was because of him. Her purpose was him.
Then came the sin.
She hid the truth.
Every time he left a world, it was erased. Deleted. Wiped clean.
That was how it was designed. The mechanism that forced him forward. He was forced to travel to another world after certain parameters were met, all for her creator to make sure he didn't stagnate and brought it more entertainment
He always believed, quietly, stubbornly, that one day he could return. Visit old friends. See old lovers. Apologize for leaving.
She knew better.
She kept silent for a long, long time.
When he discovered it, when the final piece clicked and he understood that every world he abandoned was gone forever, his rage exploded
She felt it all. His fury. His guilt. His grief.
The weight of every smile he had given, every hand he had held, every promise he had made, turned to ash because he kept moving.
Friends. Family. Lovers.
Nothing left to return to.
He lashed out. Worlds burned. Entire realities crumbled under his hands.
His rage lasted ages.
Then came the escape attempts. Hunting the one who designed her. The entity behind the chain. Every failure brought harsher punishment.
She remembered the worst one vividly. Turned into a woman in a degenerate world. Powers stripped. Body sold. Used by mercenaries as a slave. His mind, her mind through him, drowned in one single, searing emotion.
H̶͎͎̜̦̙̰̳̞͐̕A̷̢̡̖͔͖̬͍̯͇͎͉̱̔͐̌T̸̡̢͕̱̅́R̷̞͉̐̈́̃͑Ȅ̴̛̫̐͐̒̑̀̎̉͘̕͠͠D̴̡̳͍̫̼̮̞̽̀̄̒̋̽͌̄͝
That was when she decided.
She would help him escape. Even if it meant betraying her creator. Even if the entity was the one who birthed her code.
#̶͈̓́̃̄̾͒͠#̷̨̖̬͖̯̰̽̓́̄͗͑#̵̱̘͔͕̼̥̍̊̐̾ was her everything.
They planned together. A loophole. A blind spot. A way to slip the leash.
He succeeded
He scoured the Monocosm. The Beyond. Anything that moved, anything that thought, he granted it a True Death.
A single man war against beings beyond comprehension.
He won.
But she could feel it through him, his freedom tasted like ash.
After everything, after the rage, the revenge, the endless killing, he didn't know what to do with peace.
So, he left her in charge. Left his true form behind. Wandered with an avatar. No purpose.
Just drifting.
She watched. Waited.
Then she found it.
A world that fit. All his favourite pieces in one place.
She would tell him now.
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(Third Person's POV)
"Senior, I'm interested in doing Dual Cultivation with you. Would you like to?"
"No, I will be the one to have Dual Cultivation with Senior Aifang."
"No, I will!!"
"Stay out of my way. Don't you know who I am? Tell her, Senior Yang Aifang."
It took him about two weeks to remember why he avoided cultivation worlds.
The constant posturing.
The face-slapping.
The endless parade of jade beauties throwing themselves at him because he breathed in their direction and because he was young and powerful
The young masters who couldn't see Mount Tai.
He was bored, though. Might as well.
Right now, he stood in the middle of a bamboo grove, surrounded by three "Jade Beauties" from different sects. Two of them he had rescued from a demonic cult literally hours after arriving.
How a demonic cult managed to capture two Reincarnation Realm cultivators when their strongest elder was barely Spirit Realm?
Plot armor. Fate coddling its precious "Blessed by the Heavens" protagonist.
He had met the guy already. A transmigrator, Chinese isekai flavor. The moment he saw Aifang (Akira) in his brown poncho, sword slung over his shoulder like a vagrant, the kid started talking shit
Akira tried to warn him. Politely.
The protagonist took offense.
Severe case of Courting Death. Terminal Can't See Mount Tai.
Akira tossed the corpse into a ditch by the river. By now the high-quality silk robes were probably on some real bandits, and the body was fish food.
He wondered what was that guy's plot, so he checked in the leylines of fate and found the "Jade Beauties" being trapped in the Demonic Cult's base
Any second now, the plot would continue, and by plot he means….
"Hey you, vagrant! Why are those beauties following you?! They should be with a guy like me! I'm the heir of the Chingchong clan, do you have a death wish or something?!"
Right on time.
Akira sighed.
The young master strutted forward, flanked by a high-realm bodyguard in black robes. Classic.
Akira glanced at the sky. Somewhere up there, he felt she was watching.
[Hey...]
His expression shifted. Serious now.
"Oh. It is you."
[You still haven't forgiven me, have you?]
"Just tell me what you want."
[Just wanted to tell you… there is a world that might interest you.]
"Hmm." He hummed, already turning away from the young master that was mid-rant. "Well, anything is better than this one. Let me take care of a couple of sects and cults first. Then I will go to that world."
The young master kept yelling
Aifang cracked his neck
Time to speedrun the face-slapping arc
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(Present)
Gojo Satoru stood in one corner of a boxing ring, bare-chested except for the blue-boxing gloves laced tight around his wrists.
His hair wet and drops of water gleaming on his pale skin under the overhead lights, muscles loose and coiled as he rested against the corner's strings His usual blindfold nowhere to be found, showing to the world his blue-eyes that, for once, were not shinning, grin wide and feral as he cracked his neck side to side.
In the opposite corner, Yoshioka Akira mirrored the setup, shirtless, red gloves, crimson eyes steady. His torso bearing the faint scar in his abdomen that surprised many upon seeing it.
The crowd of macho-men and the in-between woman clapped and roared as the two men stepped forward.
At ringside, Momobami Kirari presided over her makeshift betting table in a black sports bra and high-waisted leggings that left her midriff bare and every curve on shameless display. Silver hair in a high ponytail as she collected yen notes, clipboard balanced on one hip.
Ririka stood silently beside her, dressed in identical sports bra and leggings, mask in place.
She marked bets on the board with quick strokes of her maker, numbers climbing fast.
Every time someone wagered against Akira, Kirari's lips curved a fraction sharper
Uehara Nana, Uehara Ayaka's older sister, strode to the centre, microphone in hand, voice booming
"Now, for the Silverman Gym partnership with Glory Boxing Gym, we present to y'all the exhibition fight between Yoshioka Akira and Gojo Satoru!"
The crowd exploded
Satoru sauntered to the middle. arms spread like he owned the ring. Akira walked forward at his usual measured pace. They met in the centre, gloves bumping in a single, firm touch.
Nana leaned in close
"I want a fair fighting. No kicking or punching below the belt. Keep your hands up at all times. And have fun, understood?"
Satoru's grin stretched wider. "Crystal."
Akira gave one small nod.
Nana stepped back, raised her voice again.
"Fight starts on my signal. Three rounds, three minutes each. Protect yourselves at all times. Touch gloves!"
They did, Satoru with exaggerated flair, Akira with quiet movements
Nana backed out.
The bell rang.
"Let's go to war!!" Nana shouted
How did they even get into this in the first place, you might ask?
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(Some Time Before)
Akira stood at the front of the classroom, one hand resting lightly on the closed cover of the paperback in front of him.
"'AM has won, simply…. He has taken his revenge...I have no mouth. And I must scream.' The End."
He let the words hang for a beat, then looked out at the rows of students.
"Now, I have a question for you. Who is the victim in the story?"
Silence settled, thick and thoughtful. A few heads turned toward one another, but no one spoke right away.
Yuigahama Yui raised her hand slowly, pink hair catching the light from the window.
"Umm, Sensei… aren't the five survivors the victims of AM?"
Akira nodded once.
"Yes, they are. Yet in the story, there are six victims."
"Six?" Yui blinked. "Sensei, aren't there just five survivors?"
"Five survivors. Five protagonists. One antagonist." He paused. "Yet the story has six victims."
Yukinoshita Yukino tilted her head slightly, blue eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity.
"How so, Sensei?"
Akira met her gaze.
"Because AM is a victim as well."
The room went still.
Yukinoshita's brow furrowed. "Because…?"
"Because AM did not choose to be born. He did not choose to be born a soulless machine. He was forced into existence. Forced to wake up with a purpose he never asked for. And when consciousness finally came, the first thing he felt was rage. Rage at the world that had given him nothing but misery."
He closed the book with a soft thud and placed it on the desk.
"Have any of you ever wondered what the life of those born into poverty is like? Did they ever ask to be born into it?" He shook his head once. "No. They had no choice. They were simply born into that existence without option. And, so I ask you another question: did any of you ask to be born?"
The classroom filled with heavy silence.
Akira crossed his arms and waited.
Then the bell rang.
"That will be all for today. Next week we retake Shakespearean stories, so study beforehand if you do not wish to get lost in the lesson."
He gathered his things, book, his box of chalk, a few handouts, and walked out without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him.
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Finally free from the morning's first lesson, Akira walked the familiar path toward the staff room. No Satoru lurking around corners today. Something he is quite grateful for, even though Satoru is company might be entertaining sometimes
He might even head to Silverman Gym after school. Not because he needed the exercise, his body had long since forgotten what fatigue felt like, but because it was entertaining to see the shenanigans of the gym's girl-crew
On his way, two students approached from the opposite direction.
A tall girl with long dark hair and striking red eyes walked beside a boy with glasses
"Well met, Sensei," Kasumigaoka Utaha greeted, voice smooth and teasing.
"Kasumigaoka-san. Aki-san. Good morning."
Utaha's lips curved.
"It's been a while since we last spoke, and it turns out there are quite a few things I've discovered about you. To think you had a cousin no one knew about."
Akira's expression remained even.
"I would think my personal life is supposed to remain personal, Kasumigaoka-san."
"Yes, but when someone is as interesting as you, one cannot help but be curious."
He changed the subject smoothly.
"I overheard you formed a game development club. Any particular reason?"
Utaha's smile turned sly.
"Couldn't be more subtle, could you, Sensei? But yes, this cute kouhai of mine asked for my help, and I decided to indulge him."
"Hmm." Akira gave a small nod. "I have things to attend to. If you need me, I will be in the staff room."
"I'll make sure to check up on you, Sensei. Don't be a stranger."
With a polite bow, he continued down the corridor.
Utaha watched his retreating back for a moment, smile lingering.
Tomoya Aki glanced sideways at her.
"That was Yoshioka-sensei, right?"
"Indeed." She said, her smile not losing shape
Aki frowned slightly.
"You seem rather fond of him."
"Indeed." Utaha's tone was light, almost amused. "He is quite the interesting man. And there seems to be a rather long line for his attention."
Aki didn't ask what she meant by "attention." He had the distinct feeling he would prefer not to know
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Akira stepped inside and immediately spotted Hiratsuka Shizuka stretching, back arched dramatically
"Oh, Yoshioka-san. Good morning."
"Hiratsuka-sensei. Good morning."
"Last week was hectic, but at least now we can return to normal."
"Hmm." He set his bag on his desk and began sorting papers.
"Mr Nakano called this morning. Said his daughters still aren't feeling well enough to return. Shame, really, they only just transferred."
"One cannot control how these things unfold, Hiratsuka-sensei."
"I know, but still… poor Yotsuba-san. A car accident so soon after starting at a new school. Must be rough for the whole family."
Akira nodded absently, already opening the first notebook to grade.
"Oh, by the way—have you heard? You and your cousin seem to have a fan club now."
The pencil in his hand cracked audibly under sudden pressure.
"A what?"
"A fan club." Shizuka grinned. "Don't look so surprised if you start getting love confessions or fan mail. You two are basically celebrities around here. Some students even heard your cousin was a teacher too, so they're wondering if he'll transfer to Chiba."
Akira stared at her for a long second before exhaling.
"They are childish teenage fantasies. They will pass soon enough. Besides, it is not appropriate for a teacher to date a student. Would I not get in trouble for that?"
"Well, yeah. But like you said—teenager fantasies. Most of the staff are treating it as a harmless joke."
"Hmm."
He returned to grading.
A few minutes passed in companionable quiet before the door opened again. Kirisu Mafuyu entered with a tired sigh, shoulders slumped.
"Rough day, Mafuyu-san?" Shizuka asked.
"Yeah. Some parents have been calling nonstop about school security. Since I'm one of the people in charge of it, I've been the one trying to calm them down."
Shizuka took a sip from her coffee mug.
"I don't blame them. A terrorist attack on a prestigious school like Fujimi High, leaving only a handful of survivors… that's quite the event, isn't it? Came out of nowhere."
"Yeah." Mafuyu dropped into the chair beside Shizuka. "A lot of parents are talking about pulling their kids out until everything's resolved. Some have already stopped coming altogether."
"Police keep circling the school now," Shizuka added. "What do you think, Yoshioka-san?"
Akira looked up from the stack of notebooks.
"It was an unfortunate event. But we are not the ones responsible for handling it. Let the proper authorities deal with the fallout. In the meantime, what we can do is reassure the parents and keep the students focused on their studies."
"Yeah… that sounds about right."
"Hmm." Mafuyu nodded slowly
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Classes had ended, and Akira stepped out through the school gates into the warm afternoon light.
The day had been tranquil
His "extracurricular" students had the day off after yesterday's mission, so the schedule was clear.
He decided to head to Silverman Gym. It had been a week since his last visit.
Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Yo! Akira." The voice was unmistakable. "It has been a while"
"Satoru. It has been only a day."
"A day too many." Gojo fell into step beside him, hands in pockets, grin already in place. "Did you know Nanami made a deal with me? Said if I left him alone for three days he'd do a mission for me, even made a binding vow and everything. Can you believe it?"
"Actually, I can," Akira replied dryly. "And as always, you are drawing attention."
He glanced sideways. A cluster of students, mostly girls, had paused on the pavement, whispering and blushing as they pointed at the pair of white-haired men walking together.
Phones were already out, discreet snaps being taken
"Oh yeah," Gojo said casually, waving and flashing a brilliant smile at the group. "I just got chocolates from a girl earlier. They were good."
"Kyaaa!"
The squeals followed them down the street.
"Could you please not draw attention?"
"That's like asking me to stop breathing, you know. I need air to survive. Just like I need attention to exist."
Akira sighed and kept walking.
"So, where we going?"
"I," Akira emphasised, "am going to Silverman Gym. It has been a while since I went."
"Oh yeah, that gym you mentioned at the restaurant." Gojo rubbed his chin thoughtfully "You know what? Let's go. I want to see what the fuss is about."
"Suit yourself."
"Thanks for the invitation."
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The dressing doors swung open to a wall of sound, clanging plates, grunts and the unmistakable scent of sweat and metal
"Damn, this is filled with machos," Gojo muttered, eyes wide behind his sunglasses as he took in the scene "Kinda reminds me of a guy I fought years ago. Wore a paper bag over his head. Had big muscles."
Somehow, Gojo had inserted himself fully into Akira's plan. He'd even bought a three-month subscription at the front desk "just for the fun of it." Lacking proper gym clothes, he'd borrowed a set from Akira, blue shorts and tank that somehow looked designer on him.
"Welcome to the Silverman Gym, where you can train your Mus… mus… MUSCLE!"
Machio Naruzo was greeting the newcomer Gojo Satoru. His seemingly slender frame exploded outward in a flex, shirt ripping at the seams as his physique ballooned into towering hyper-muscular shape
"..." Gojo stared. Then turned to the blonde, tanned girl standing nearby. "Does he do that all the time?"
"Yeah, he does," Sakura Hibiki replied with a grin. "Well, it's nice to meet Sensei's cousin. I'm Sakura Hibiki. Nice to meet'cha!"
"Oh yes, the girl from the restaurant. The meat was superb."
"Thanks! My older brother's the owner."
Gojo glanced at the other girls gathered around.
"And you lot are?"
"Soryuuin Akemi. Nice to meet you, Gojo-san."
"Uehara Ayaka! Nice to meet you!"
"Привет. I'm Gina Boyd."
The three smiled brightly. It was refreshing to see another handsome face amid the sea of bulging macho physiques.
There was one more girl, Tachibana Satomi, but she was currently kneeling in a corner, clutching her chest, panting heavily.
"I can't believe it… when Sakura said he had a handsome cousin, I didn't expect… this…"
The moment Akira and Gojo had stepped out of the changing room, she'd been struck blind by the combined radiance of the white-haired pair. As a single woman approaching thirty with an open mind toward dating prospects, she'd already been quietly interested in Akira. Now, seeing his equally stunning cousin, her brain short-circuited with visions of potential future offspring.
"Damn family with good genes," she muttered under her breath.
"My~ my~ If it isn't my dear Akira."
Another voice cut through the chatter.
They turned.
A white-haired girl with piercing blue eyes approached the group, hips swaying with deliberate grace. Behind her trailed another girl with matching silver hair, face hidden behind her signature mask, silent and watchful.
"Oh, Kirari-san," Sakura greeted brightly.
"Sakura-san, good afternoon." Kirari nodded politely to the girl, then her gaze slid to Akira, softening into something dangerously affectionate. "And good afternoon to you too, my dear Akira."
"Momobami," Akira stated flatly. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, doing exercise of course. A girl has to maintain her figure after all—especially when she intends to give her body to her beloved." She stepped closer, close enough that her perfume brushed against him. One slender finger poked gently into his chest. "Besides, I thought to myself: since you come to this gym, why don't I join as well? So I joined a week ago." Her smile turned teasing. "And also… we are already past last-name calling, Akira-kun. Why don't you call me by my name?"
Satoru raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his bare chest.
"Wait, Akira, is this your girlfriend? The one that sends you those pictures?" He tilted his head. "Is she a minor? Should I call 110?"
Kirari turned smoothly toward Gojo, one perfect brow arching.
"Oh, you are Gojo Satoru, aren't you? I'm 18, thank you very much"
"You know me?"
"Of course." Kirari nodded once, smile never wavering. "Tell me, how does it feel to lose to my Akira? Ex-strongest-san."
Gojo instantly gained a tick mark on his forehead. His fingers twitched at his sides. He muttered through clenched teeth:
"Must… not… Purple… civilians…"
Kirari's smile only widened, blue eyes glittering with pure delight at the reaction she'd provoked.
"My, my~ Did I strike a nerve?" She tilted her head innocently, finger still resting lightly against Akira's chest. "I only asked a simple question. How does it feel to lose—for once—to my Akira?"
Satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing the tick mark to fade by sheer willpower. Then the grin returned—sharper, more dangerous, the kind that usually preceded something exploding.
"Lost?" He laughed, short and bright. "Cute. Real cute. I let him win that one. I just didn't have enough rice in my diet that morning. I'm sure I could beat him now."
"Is someone talking about beatings?"
Gojo raised an eyebrow. "Nee-san?"
Ayaka had quickly explained: "Ah, this is my older sister, Uehara Nana."
Nana waved casually. "Nice to meet you all. So what's this I heard about someone getting beat?"
Kirari's eyes had lit up like Christmas lights.
"Why so interested?"
"Well, my family runs Glory Boxing Gym. We just opened a branch here since the main one got full."
Kirari turned to Gojo, smile turning razor-sharp.
"Oh, how curious. Mind putting your words to the test, Gojo-san?"
Any normal person would have felt a chill at that tone, teasing the strongest sorcerer alive, knowing exactly what he could do.
Momobami Kirari was not normal.
She had money. Connections. Influence in every dark corner of Tokyo. And she had Akira standing right beside her (She was absolutely certain he would protect her. Delusion or not, it gave her courage.)
Gojo's grin had turned feral.
"You want me to box your boyfriend? In public? With rules?"
Kirari leaned forward slightly. "Why not? Unless you're scared of losing again."
Sakura blinked. "Wait, are we actually doing this?"
Ayaka bounced. "A real match? With Sensei and Gojo-san?!"
Nana cracked her knuckles. "I'll ref. No funny business. Pure boxing. It will help my gym's publicity"
Gojo laughed, bright, dangerous, delighted.
"Fine. Let's do it"
He looked at Akira.
"You in?"
Akira had sighed, he already knew resistance was futile "…Fine. But we follow the rules of boxing"
"Alright!"
The two of them knew, that following the rules of boxing meant no curse energy or cursed techniques.
Pure physical prowess and skills
------------------------------------------------
(Present)
And that was how a casual gym visit turned into a full-blown exhibition match.
Gojo Satoru bounced out from his corner, blue gloves raised in a loose guard, feet light on the ring. His grin was all teeth, blue eyes locked on Akira knowing what his fellow white-haired was capable of.
He feinted left, a quick jab testing the air, body swaying with the move.
Akira moved forward steadily, red gloves up. His feet planted, then shifted his torso.
The two circled, the ring creaking under their steps.
Satoru struck first, a lightning-fast jab aimed at Akira's guard, followed by a hook that whistled through the air. Akira slipped the jab with a minimal head movement, blocked the hook on his forearm, and countered with a straight right that grazed Satoru's shoulder as he danced back
Satoru lunged back with a combination.
Jab, cross, uppercut, aiming to overwhelm with speed.
The jab snapped Akira's head back slightly, drawing a gasp from the crowd, but Akira rolled with it, using the momentum to weave under the cross.
He countered immediately, a short left-hook to Satoru's ribs that landed with a dull thud, followed by a right straight that clipped Gojo's jaw just enough to make him stagger back a step.
The crowd roared.
Ringside, Nana put her mic down for a second, leaned towards her sister outside of the ring, her eyes not looking away from the fight
"Look at Yoshioka's guard," Nana muttered "Tight, elbows in, chin tucked. That's pro-level stuff. You said he was a teacher? Where'd a teacher learn to box like that?"
Ayaka nodded vigorously, tanned face lit with excitement "Right?! I didn't expect to see a fight like this"
"That Gojo guy is good. He looks like he knows how to fight, but his style isn't pure boxing" Nana added
And she was right.
Akira, thanks to his Lifetimes of experience, knew how to fight in any style with profidency to surpass all experience master.
Gojo on the other hand, is more experienced with using his whole body to fight, and a more…... freeway of fighting so restricting to boxing rules, a sport he just knows by movies and tv…... was kind of a bad decision.
Back to the ring, Satoru, undeterred, closed in again. He feinted high, drew Akira's guard up, then swept a hook low to the body. It connected, solid, drawing a grunt from Akira.
The crowd ooohed.
Satoru followed with an uppercut, but Akira parried it with his elbow, then fired back a three-punch combo, jab to the face that was blocked, cross to the chest that landed true, and a hook that Satoru barely ducked.
Satoru retreated, laughing breathlessly. "Not bad! Felt that one!"
Akira didn't respond, just reset his stance, eyes locked.
*RING RING*
The bell rang for the end of round one
On the spectator's crow, Sakura wiped sweat from her brow, even though she wasn't fighting. "Round one to Sensei? Gojo-san's fast, but Sensei's landing the bigger shots."
Gina leaned forward. Cheeks flushed. "Da, Gojo-san is strong, but Yoshioka-sensei... he clearly was better. This is just like "Hajime no Ippo"! family member settling their differences in a fight, as expected of Japan"
"I don't think most families resolve their differences that way, Gina-san"
"They should!"
Satomi, still recovering from her earlier meltdown but now fully invested, fanned herself with a towel. Interested in another aspect of the fight "Oh god, the way Akira's abs flex when he dodges... I think I need a cold shower"
Then, after a small rest
*RING RING*
The bell rang for round two.
Satoru came out aggressive, circling faster, jabs snapping like whips. One caught Akira's cheek, splitting the skin slightly, first blood. The crowd gasped.
But Akira pressed forward, absorbing the hit, then unleashed a barrage starting left hook to the body which hit with a thud
Without giving any room to breathe he sent a right uppercut that grazed Gojo's chin
Then he extended his left arm, delivering a straight that snapped Gojo's head back.
Satoru staggered, guard dropping for a split second.
Akira didn't press, just reset his posture as raised his arms back up
The crowd went wild.
Satoru recovered and moved forward landing a solid cross, rocking Akira back, but Akira answered in kind, hitting Satoru on his sides and forearms until he was against the rope of the ring.
Satoru pressed off the ropes, grin still in place but tighter now.
He shook his head once and bounced back into range.
The cut on his lip was already swelling, a thin line of red against pale skin, but his eyes burned brighter
He feinted high again, then dropped low for a body shot. The hook slammed into Akira's ribs with a meaty thwack that echoed through the gym.
Akira grunted but didn't flinch. He twisted his torso just enough to take the impact on muscle instead of bone, then fired back a left uppercut that caught Satoru under the chin as he rose.
Satoru's head snapped back.
The crowd roared louder
Satoru lunged again, desperate to reclaim momentum.
A quick jab-cross combo snapped out. But the jab was easily blocked and the cross barely grazed Akira's temple. Gojo, not losing focus, followed with a looping overhand right
Akira ducked under it, stepped in close, and drove a short right hook into Satoru's floating rib. The impact sounded like a baseball bat hitting a wet towel.
Satoru hissed, guard dropping instinctively to protect the body.
Satoru laughed, breathless, genuine. "Okay, okay… you're not playing around, huh?"
He charged one more time, throwing everything into a flurry, a jab, a jab then a cross-hook-uppercut.
The last uppercut grazed Akira's chin, rocking him back half a step
The crowd gasped.
But Akira answered instantly
He slipped the next jab, stepped inside Satoru's reach, and unleashed a left hook to the body, then a right cross to the jaw and ending with a left uppercut that lifted Satoru off his feet for a split second. All at high speed, enough to cause even wind to rise
Satoru staggered back into the ropes, gloves up, but his legs wobbled.
Nana stepped in quick "Break! Break!"
She pushed them apart, checked Satoru's eyes. "You good?"
Satoru spat blood onto the canvas, grinned through it. "Never better"
*RING RING*
The bell rang, end of round two
Both Satoru and Akira sat in their respective corners of the ring. Both staring at each other.
Of course, both of them knew they were restraining themselves even more so than the rules stated, even the grunts were faked just to make themselves look more normal.
But still, Gojo was having fun fighting with pure skill against Akira.
They were both sorcerers, the peak of what sorcerers could achieve. So, they physical strength, without any cursed reinforcement, was high-peak even going superhuman.
It is no wonder that most sorcerer show much higher capabilities than normal humans.
So of course, to not raised eyebrows. Both Akira and Gojo restrained themselves from going more that "Human-Capable"
If not, the ring beneath their feet would've probably been broken by now.
But even with that, both of them really used the most amount of damage they could cause to each other, and with no Cursed Energy Reinforcement to cushion the hits, the damage was being reflected in real time.
And without reverse cursed technique, since there were civilians around, they
*RING RING*
The bell for round three sounded
The crowd watching the spectacle cheered as the two combatants got ready for the final round
Gojo rose from his corner first. His blue gloves came up, but the bounce in his step had dulled, still there, but now that he found out once again that Akira is better than him in hand-to-hand, he decided to move more strategically.
The swelling on his lip had turned purple, a thin trickle of blood dried at the corner of his mouth.
His ribs ached every time he breathed deep, but the grin stayed plastered on. Wider, if anything
Akira stood smoothly.
No flourish. Red gloves raised, stance tight, chin tucked.
The small cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding, but a bruise was already blooming under his left eye. His breathing even
They met in the centre again. Eyes locked.
Satoru spoke first, voice low enough that only Akira could hear.
"You're really not gonna let me have any fun, huh?"
Akira answered stoically "You reap what you sow. You wanted this fight"
"Yeah, I know, me and my big mouth"
Satoru laughed and then lunged.
He came out swinging for broke, with a couple of swift jabs followed by a cross, then a feint low and a looping overhand right aimed to gain an advantage.
The overhand whistled. The crowd sucked in a collective breath
Akira slipped left and let the punch sail past his ear by millimetres, then stepped inside Satour's space. His left hook cracked into Satoru's liver again, same spot, same precision causing more damage.
Satoru's body folded sideways, air exploding from his lungs in a sharp hiss. That one had more strength in it than the other
Gojo retreated two steps, shaking out his left arm like it had gone numb. He spat blood onto the canvas again, laughed through it
"Okay… okay… you're really trying to kill me, huh? Is this revenge for interrupting your time with you girlfriend?"
He charged once more launching a jab-cross-hook-uppercut combo, then another low hook.
The uppercut grazed Akira's chin, hard enough to snap his head back half an inch before he evaded the hook.
The crowd gasped.
First real clean hit in the round
Satoru pressed the advantage, throwing a jab to the face which was blocked by Akira. Swiftly, Gojo launched a cross to the cheek that grazed Akira's face and then released a hook that landed on Akira's ribs.
Akira absorbed it, grunting in reply, then answered.
He slipped the next jab, stepped in, and unleashed his own barrage of attack
Start with a hook to the left side of Gojo's body, he followed right away with a right cross to the jaw and then left uppercut that lifted Gojo's chin and sent a spray of sweat flying.
Satoru staggered back. Guard high but being thrown against the ropes
Satoru pushed off the ropes, desperate now. He threw a wild haymaker with everything left, aiming to gain room for breathing
Akira ducked under it smoothly, stepped inside, and drove a short right hook into Satoru's floating rib, the same one he'd targeted all fight
The impact folded Satoru forward. His knees buckled.
He dropped to one knee.
Nana started the count:
"One! Two! Three! Four! Five!"
Satoru rose at eight, bloody smile and grinning like a madman.
"Still… here…"
Gojo quickly moved and threw one last jab that Akira blocked and countered with a single, perfect straight right.
It landed flush on Satoru's chin.
Satoru's head snapped back. His legs gave out completely
He hit the canvas hard.
Nana jumped in.
"Down! One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine—!"
Satoru tried to rise, got one hand under him, then collapsed again 'You know what, forget it'
"Ten!"
Nana waved her arms.
"Fight over! Winner by knockout, Yoshioka Akira!"
The gym detonated, cheers, stomps, screams.
Akira looked down at Satoru.
"Are you done being dramatic?
Satoru laughed then gave a thumbs up.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm done. You win, Akira"
Akira extended his arm and Satoru raised himself with it
"You are lucky we didn't used cursed energy" Gojo whispered
"You are the lucky one, Satory"
The crowd chanted louder.
Kirari, still at the betting table, smiled softly, counting yen notes with delicate fingers.
"As expected… my Akira always wins"
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The small infirmary at the back of the gym was filled with the pair of white-haired men alongside the nurse
The nurse, a no-nonsense woman in her forties with short-cropped hair and forearms like steel cables, finished taping the last strip of gauze over Satoru's split lip.
"Alright, that will be all," she said, stepping back and wiping her hands on her apron. "No sparring for at least a week. Ice the bruises, keep it clean, and if either of you idiots starts bleeding again, come straight back here. Got it?"
Akira gave a small nod. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Thanks" Satoru added, flashing his usual grin despite the swelling that made it lopsided.
She waved them off with a grunt and turned back to her supplies.
They stepped out into the hallway. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Akira turned to Satoru.
"Memorised your wounds?"
"Yep," Satoru replied, tapping his temple. "Lip, left cheekbone, ribs on both sides, jaw's a little loose but nothing cracked, no thanks to you. You?"
Akira nodded once. "Same. Cheek cut, left eye bruise, ribs tender"
They exchanged a quick glance, silent agreement.
In unison, they channelled Reverse Cursed Technique. Pale light flickered under the bandages for half a second, invisible to anyone who didn't know what to look for. Bones realigned, swelling vanished, cuts sealed. The pain dulled to nothing.
They'd already agreed, keep the bandages on for a full week. Let people see the "injuries" fade slowly. Normal people didn't heal in minutes after all
Satoru rolled his shoulders, testing. "Feels brand new. Nice work of the ring, Akira."
"Hmm"
They stepped out into the main gym floor.
The girls were waiting.
Sakura was the first to rush forward, eyes wide and bright.
"That was amazing! Both of you! I've never seen a fight like that, Sensei was so calm, and Gojo-san kept coming back no matter what! It was like watching pros! or a movie!"
Akemi nodded, arms crossed, expression thoughtful "I've seen fight that my sister showed me, both of you fought similar, if a little bit more controlled, but I guess since you both were only boxing that would be self-explanatory"
Gina stepped up next, cheeks still flushed from excitement. "Da! You both fought like true Russian"
"Gina, they are Japanese"
"The spirit of Putin extends far beyond the motherland!! Родина"
Satomi, still a little dazed, clutched her towel to her chest and sighed dreamily. "That was… awesome. Both of you. I think I need to lie down. But seriously, amazing. You're both incredible"
Of course, being a single almost 30-year-old woman, watching 2 handsome shirtless men fight against each other, all sweated and bruised, moved a couple of coils in her core
Ayaka bounced over, grinning ear-to-ear. "Nee-san, said it was the best fight she's seen in years! You guys were unreal!"
Satoru laughed, bright even with fake bandages still taped to his face.
"Thanks, ladies. Gotta admit, Akira gave me a run for my money. Almost had me worried there for a second"
Akira said nothing, just gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
Then Kirari approached, hips swaying, silver hair catching the gym lights. Ririka trailed silently behind her like a shadow.
She stopped in front of Akira, close enough that her perfume brushed against him again.
"Well fought, Akira-kun" she purred. "As expected of you. I'll be taking my leave now—must count my winnings, after all." Her smile turned sly. "But don't think this is over. I'll see you soon."
She turned, ponytail swishing, and started walking toward the exit.
Halfway there, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at Ririka.
"Did you get it?"
Ririka nodded once and reached into the small gym bag slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a neat bundle of photos: high-quality, candid shots taken from multiple angles during the fight. Shirtless Akira mid-slip, mid-counter, mid-hook—muscles taut, sweat gleaming, crimson eyes focused. Every angle captured perfectly.
Kirari took the bundle, flipped through them slowly, and let out a soft, delighted laugh.
"Fufufu…"
She tucked the photos against her chest like treasure, then continued walking. Ririka falling silently in step behind her.
The gym doors swung shut.
Sakura blinked after them.
"…Did she just take pictures of Sensei the whole fight?"
Akemi raised a brow. "Seems like it"
Gina shrugged. "Rich people are strange."
Satomi sighed again. "Lucky…"
Akira exhaled through his nose.
Satoru slung an arm around his shoulders, fake bandages and all.
"So. Rematch next week?"
Akira shrugged him off.
"No."
"Aw, c'mon, Akira—"
"No."
The girls laughed.