The world was still bleeding.
He stood in the rubble, backlit by the light of his own rebirth. Blood still clung to his uniform. Bones had only barely realigned. His chest ached with every breath. But something deeper had changed.
Infinity wasn't humming.
It was singing.
Toji's blade had drawn blood. But now, as Gojo stepped forward—there was no pain.
Only clarity.
Toji crouched in the distance, studying him.
"Took you long enough," the hitman muttered.
Gojo didn't answer.
He vanished.
And reappeared mid-air, hurling Blue at point-blank range.
Toji's instincts saved him—just barely. He flipped backward, landing on a slanted rooftop as the street below was consumed in gravitational collapse.
"Damn sorcerers," he muttered, pushing off.
---
Toji Fushiguro
This wasn't the same Gojo.
No arrogance. No playful taunts.
The boy had died, and something else had climbed out of the grave.
Toji grinned despite himself.
"Alright, kid. Let's see how far you go."
He darted forward, slicing a direct path across air and concrete. His cursed tool gleamed, invisible to the eye—Piercing Blood, a weapon of silence and death.
Gojo caught it.
Caught it.
With two fingers.
Toji's eyes narrowed.
"Seriously?" he spat.
Gojo tilted his head. "You're fast. But this time… I'm faster."
He pulsed cursed energy in a narrow blast, flinging Toji off the rooftop and into the scaffold of a collapsing building.
---
No Mercy
Toji didn't land.
Gojo was already there, above him, hand raised.
Reversal: Red.
The red force smashed the air like a warhead, sending Toji spiraling through support beams. Steel snapped. Glass exploded.
Toji roared, slashing mid-fall, twisting his body to find footing.
Blood ran from a fresh cut across his ribs.
He actually drew blood…
On me again.
And for the first time—
Toji smiled like a man truly enjoying the fight.
---
Between their clashes, moments flickered through Gojo's mind:
Kishibe's body hitting the pole.
Geto's curses shattering.
Riko's trembling hands.
All of them—his people—faced this monster.
And now he understood why Kishibe stood back up, even bleeding, even broken.
This man needed to be ended.
Gojo raised his hand again. Power surged into his palm.
A balance of cursed technique divergence. Blue. Red.
"Hollow Purple."
Toji's eyes widened.
He moved.
Too late.
The combined technique unleashed a violet beam that erased everything in its path. Buildings. Pavement. Air.
Toji didn't scream.
He vanished in the explosion.
---
Silence.
The wind whispered through the ruins like a final breath.
Gojo stood amidst the smoke, his body still trembling with the remnants of cursed energy. Hollow Purple had erased everything in its path—but not the one thing he wished it could undo.
He turned slowly, boots crunching over cracked asphalt and broken glass.
And then he saw her.
Riko Amanai lay motionless on the ground, her school uniform stained with blood. Eyes half-lidded. A smear of red across her cheek. One shoe missing, as if she'd tried to run.
She looked small.
Too small.
Gojo stepped forward like a man in a dream. The Infinity around him dimmed, flickering, as if responding to the ache in his chest.
He knelt beside her.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't dare.
His hands hovered over her shoulders, over the hole in her chest, over the blood that was already drying.
She was warm, still. But her soul was gone.
And something in him broke.
He let out a breath—a shallow, shaking thing that wasn't quite a sob.
"I said we'd take you to the beach," he whispered. "That you'd live."
His voice cracked.
"I said… I'd protect you."
The words fell like ashes.
He lowered his head.
No gods. No cursed spirits. No enemies to fight. Just the empty truth that he was too late.
Behind him, the sky was beginning to clear.