His body was a battlefield sculpted by victory and punishment.
Light bled through the cracked windows of the warehouse, filtering across the dust-filled air as he stood in the middle of it all—half-naked, chest rising and falling in hard bursts. His skin was slick with sweat, the sheen emphasizing the sharp lines carved into his torso. His abs were defined and tightly stacked, each one taut with effort and constant stress. Veins curled along his arms, pulsing faintly beneath the brown of his skin. Bruises speckled his ribs, his forearms were marred with tiny abrasions, and his legs looked like they'd been hammered with force… but his eyes still burned with focus.
He was moving fast.
Not fast like a jog. Not even a sprint.
This was Flash Step—an explosive, blink-fast burst of movement that shredded air and left the echo of his presence behind. He vanished from one side of the warehouse and reappeared on the other in less than a heartbeat.
CRACK.
Gone again.
CRACK.
Reappeared midair, flipped, landed lightly. His balance wavered.
Still not perfect.
He gritted his teeth and adjusted his posture, dropped low, and pushed again.
CRACK!
Dust kicked up behind him as he zipped across the warehouse in a zigzagging pattern, controlling his deceleration more precisely than he had yesterday. That was the point of today's training—pure movement. He had already worked on cursed energy control, Haki coating, Echo Delay, and Distorted Reflection. But this? This was raw speed, raw decision-making.
His body was being pushed to its limit.
After twenty minutes of this cycle, his breath was ragged, muscles twitching, sweat dripping into his eyes. He slid to a stop near the back wall of the warehouse and leaned forward, hands on his knees, letting his lungs catch up with him.
His clothes—black jeans, a fitted long-sleeve, socks—were still where he had tossed them earlier that morning: folded over a rusted barrel like they were sacred. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and walked over slowly, steam rising faintly off his body in the warm air.
One leg through the jeans. Then the other.
The shirt clung a little to his damp skin, but he pulled it down anyway and patted the creases out with a few lazy slaps. His chest still heaved, but he was calming down. The training was working. His control was improving, slowly but surely.
He laced up his shoes, rolled his shoulders, and stepped outside into the sunlight.
He coated his body with cursed energy—thin, focused, stable—then layered Armament Haki over both legs. A pulse of power surged down to his calves.
Boom. He was gone.
Flash Step on top of Haki-enhanced running meant speed beyond human comprehension. Buildings blurred. Cars froze in his peripheral vision. He blinked down the length of the district in under sixty seconds, landing with a light thud at the front door of his house.
Click.
He opened the door and stepped in. The familiar scent of stir-fried vegetables and soy hit his nose.
"Hey, Mom," he called out casually.
She turned from the stove, smiling over her shoulder. "Hey there. Finally decided to come home?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, still a little sheepish. "I actually came back earlier this morning. Didn't see you guys around."
"Oh, we went to visit my sister," she said, flipping something in the pan. "She had the baby yesterday."
He blinked. "Oh, nice. Boy or girl?"
"Girl. They named her Aiko."
"Cute."
He walked over and dropped into his usual chair at the kitchen table. The wood felt cool beneath his arms as he leaned on it, finally letting his body relax. His dad came down the stairs a few seconds later, phone in hand, still in his homewear.
They sat together like a normal family.
He waited until they were a few bites into dinner before he said it.
"I made 320 million yen from stocks this morning."
His dad hummed absently. "That's nice, son—wait. What."
"I made 320 million yen," he said again, calm as a cloud. "Had some cash. Invested. Forgot about it. Checked this morning, and… yeah. Boom."
His parents froze.
His mom turned, spatula paused midair. "Did you hit your head or something?"
He groaned. "Just come upstairs."
They followed him silently. He pulled up the PC, navigated to the brokerage account, and pointed at the transaction logs. The numbers didn't lie.
¥320,000,000.Transaction ID: Confirmed.Sell Order Completed.
For a second, they just stared at the screen.
Then:
"…Wow," his dad whispered. "Congrats, son. You're rich."
His mom blinked and leaned in. "Don't go blowing it all on girls or gacha games."
He chuckled. "I won't. Besides, it takes three days for the funds to hit my account. First thing I'm doing is getting a phone. A good one."
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder. "Alright. Just don't let it get to your head. You know what they say—money is power, and power can warp people."
He nodded slowly.
They walked out together and left him alone in the room, the screen still glowing in front of him.
"Okay… I reinvested 20% of the 320 million."
320,000,000 × 0.20 = 64,000,000 yen reinvested320,000,000 − 64,000,000 = 256,000,000 yen liquid
He grinned to himself. "Still a lot."
The screen dimmed. He powered it off, stood, and dropped onto the bed with a soft exhale.
"Nothing out of the normal has happened. No curses acting up. No weird energies. Peaceful. Way too peaceful."
His gaze flicked to the ceiling. There were no alerts. No system pings.
"Maybe Sukuna's already been defeated…? No. If that happened, there'd be wreckage. News. Damage."
He blinked, thoughts drifting.
"Oh well."
And with that, the weight of the day pulled him into a deep sleep.
========================================================================
Here is a short little happy chapter. Don't worry were going to get some action soon but for now enjoy the peace and quiet and let's all be happy or you can crash out about another happy chapter whatever. I would say bye love you guys but that's a lie and who wants to be lied to.