I'd like to say I approached Toji like a warrior—calm, confident, ready to face my opponent.
Well... No.
I approached him the way a mouse approaches a snake: slowly, every instinct screaming at me to turn the hell around and run.
Toji stood there, perfectly still, arms relaxed at his sides. No stance. No guard. He didn't need one. He was the stance. The guy radiated an aura of "I could kill you before you blink, and it wouldn't even be impressive."
I swallowed. Two meters away now.
My brain went into damage control mode.
Okay. Calm down. You've fought before. You've survived worse. Just keep your eyes on him, breathe, and—
TWEEEEET.
A loud, shrill whistle cut through the air.
I instinctively turned my head toward the sound.
And there, because of course, was Satoru Gojo—lounging in a deep, ridiculously comfortable-looking chair, sipping from a can of coke like he was watching a sports match instead of a murder attempt.
He even had sunglasses on.
I had exactly one second to process this before something slammed into my face.
My head snapped back. My body followed. The ground rushed up to greet me, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at the endless ceiling of this godforsaken dimension, my head screaming in pain.
Toji's voice rumbled above me. "Rule number one: don't get distracted."
I groaned, rolling onto my stomach. No, sure, that's totally fair. Let's just ignore the fact that my so-called mentor is over there drinking cola and blasting whistles like a degenerate referee.
I tried crawling away, my mind racing. Okay, think. What's the plan here? I can't win, that's obvious. So do I run? Dodge? Beg for my life?
"HEY, SATORU… SENSEI" I shouted, glaring at my so-called teacher. "A little help? Maybe some tips? Anything?!"
Satoru took a slow, deliberate sip of his cola.
And said nothing.
The betrayal.
I barely had time to process that before a foot slammed into the side of my head.
For a split second, the entire universe flipped upside down.
I hit the ground again, my skull vibrating like a tuning fork.
"Rule number two," Toji said, towering over me. "Falling into a lying position in a fight makes you an easy target."
Great.
I spat out a curse and scrambled to my feet, my body screaming at me to stay down. But staying down wasn't an option. Not unless I wanted another boot to the face.
Toji didn't give me time to recover. He was already moving.
I barely saw the punch before it hit me in the ribs. I staggered back, gasping, my lungs deciding breathing was optional.
He's too fast.
The thought burned into my mind as Toji closed the distance again.
I threw a desperate punch.
He caught my wrist.
Pain exploded up my arm as he twisted it just enough to make my brain scream OH GOD HE'S GONNA BREAK IT.
Then he let go—only to slam his elbow into my stomach.
I gagged. My knees buckled.
And that's when I realized what kind of fight this was.
This wasn't a training match.
This was a lesson in pain.
Toji wasn't here to teach me form. He wasn't here to give me gentle corrections. He was here to beat every ounce of fear, weakness, and hesitation out of me until my body learned how to survive on instinct alone.
He was teaching me like I was already on the battlefield.
I had two choices:
Die on my feet or Die on my knees.
And if I was gonna die either way—
Then I was gonna fight.
I forced my body to move, throwing another punch, this time with everything I had.
Toji dodged it so effortlessly I wanted to cry.
Then he punched me in the liver.
I immediately regretted every life decision I had ever made.
Drool leaked from my mouth as I crumpled to my knees, clutching my side like my organs were about to leave my body before Toji knocked them out like I was a piñata.
IT HURT. IT HURT SO MUCH.
How the hell does a punch hurt this much?!
Before I could process my agony, a hand grabbed my hair and yanked me upward.
And then, just as my head reached his hips—
I swung my fist straight into his balls.
To hell with "honor." To hell with "no low blows." I was fighting for my life, and if that meant turning this into a prison brawl, so be it.
But I didn't stop there. While Toji barely flinched (because of course he didn't), I grabbed his head with one hand and smashed my forehead into his nose.
Bad idea.
My skull felt like I'd just headbutted a wrecking ball. My vision flickered, my entire face screaming in protest. But hey—it did something.
Toji took two steps back.
I, on the other hand, was still on my knees.
Yeah, yeah, I know. "I won't fight on my knees, I'll fight on my feet." Well, everything can't be like you planned it.
Toji casually touched his nose, then checked his fingers for blood.
Nothing.
Of course. Because without cursed energy, I'm just an average guy, and even this dude's hair is built like a tank.
But at least he wasn't fighting at full strength.
Toji took a step forward. I immediately scrambled to my feet—or at least tried to. The liver shot was still wreaking havoc on my insides.
His hand darted out, reaching for me. I flinched back.
Bad move.
That's exactly what he wanted.
His foot hooked behind my leg, sweeping me off balance, and before I could even register my impending doom—
BAM.
A knee slammed into my face.
Everything went white.
My body hit the ground, sprawled out like roadkill. I stared up at the sky–and for a brief moment, I didn't even care that it exists in a room. The stars above twinkled mockingly, like they were taking bets on how much longer I'd last.
I lifted a shaky hand to my nose. Blood.
Toji's voice rang out above me, calm, instructive, like a teacher correcting a student's test.
"Next rule: Watch all your opponent's actions. Don't let them deceive you."
Well, thanks.
I took a deep breath and started getting up. First onto all fours, then onto one knee, until I was standing at my full height again. Barely.
I looked at Toji. This guy isn't human.
He's a machine. A murder machine.
I don't stand a chance.
But I raised my fists anyway, settling into the fighting stance Satoru drilled into me a few hours ago. My body ached. My face throbbed. But I wasn't dead yet.
"Come on," I said, like some action movie protagonist who just got their second wind.
Spoiler alert: I was not that guy.
I was going to get wrecked. But I wasn't going to give up.