Gojo weaved through the reinforced battle room, his movements a blur as Rex Splode's explosive discs streaked past him, each one missing by inches before slamming into the walls with thunderous booms.
Dust puffed up, the floor trembled, and the crowd behind the glass—Mark, Bulletproof, and the other hopefuls—watched with wide eyes.
Gojo's mind raced, though his face stayed locked in that lazy, taunting grin. 'How much should I hold back?' he wondered, sidestepping another disc with a casual lean.
For a fleeting second, the idea of Black Flash flickered in his head—a devastating strike amped by Cursed Energy, fast and precise enough to hit like a truck. He shut it down just as fast.
'Nah, way too much—Rex'd be toast. Comatose if he's lucky, dead if not.' Black Flash was for curses and heavyweights, not a loudmouth like Rex trying to prove a point.
Another disc whizzed by, glowing hot, and Gojo shifted—a quick twist of his hips, letting it sail past his shoulder to explode against the steel wall.
To him, Rex was moving in slow motion, every step telegraphed, every toss obvious. The guy was running now, circling Gojo like a predator, jumping to get angles, chucking discs as fast as he could pull them.
Gojo's eyes tracked it all without effort, his reflexes so sharp it was almost unfair. Rex's arm cocked back—there's another one—and Gojo slid to the side, the disc blasting a dent behind him.
'He's trying hard,' Gojo thought, amused. 'Too bad it's like watching a kid throw rocks.'
Gojo wasn't just fast—he was a master of combat, his body a weapon honed by years of training in JJK's brutal world. Martial arts, street fighting, anything hand-to-hand—he knew it all, blending styles like a painter mixing colors.
Boxing jabs, Muay Thai kicks, Jiu-Jitsu holds, even some dirty tricks from back-alley brawls—he could flow between them without thinking, each move polished to perfection.
Against Rex?
It was time to show off a little, just enough to make a point without breaking him.
Rex lunged forward, sliding another disc free and hurling it point-blank, aiming for Gojo's chest.
Gojo sped up—his legs a blur, closing the gap in a heartbeat—dodging the disc with a slight tilt of his head.
It flew past, exploding harmlessly behind him, and before Rex could react, Gojo was at his side, moving so fast the air seemed to hum.
Rex swung a wild punch, desperate, but Gojo was already flowing into his stance, body loose and ready, like a dancer hitting the beat.
He started with a quick jab—sharp, precise, snapping Rex's head back with a crack.
The hit wasn't full force—Gojo pulled it, barely a tap by his standards—but it stung, Rex stumbling as his nose flared red.
"C'mon, Rexy," Gojo said, voice light, "keep up." Rex growled, swinging again, but Gojo ducked under it, smooth as water, and countered with a spinning elbow to Rex's jaw.
The strike landed clean, fast as a whip, rocking Rex sideways with a grunt. The crowd above gasped, Mark leaning closer to the glass.
Gojo didn't let up. He stepped in, pivoting on his heel, and drove a knee into Rex's side—not hard enough to crack ribs, but enough to double him over, air whooshing out.
Rex clutched his stomach, cursing—"You bastard!"—and tried to backpedal, fumbling for another disc.
Gojo was on him before he could throw, grabbing Rex's wrist mid-motion with a grip like steel, twisting it just enough to make him drop the disc.
It clattered to the floor, uncharged, and Gojo followed with a quick uppercut—fingers curled tight, fist snapping up to clip Rex's chin.
The hit was surgical, lifting Rex an inch off his feet before he staggered back, eyes glassy.
Rex swung wildly, a last-ditch haymaker, but Gojo slipped it, bobbing his head like a boxer, and ended it with a spinning backfist—his knuckles grazing Rex's temple, light but dizzying.
Rex hit the ground hard, sprawling on his back, chest heaving as he blinked up at the ceiling, dazed.
Gojo stood over him, hands back in his pockets, grinning wide. "Nice try, champ," he said, voice dripping with mock praise.
Gojo had Rex on the ground in mere seconds, his dodge game untouchable as explosive discs flew past him, each one missing cleanly.
Rex, sprawled but stubborn, jabbed a finger up at him, snarling, and yanked another disc from his belt. He hurled it straight at Gojo's face, the glowing projectile sizzling through the air.
Gojo's eyes flicked to it—calm, unbothered—and he leaned back just enough, the disc grazing past his cheek with a faint hiss before it slammed into the reinforced wall behind him, erupting in a fiery boom.
Not a trace of worry crossed his face; he didn't even blink, his smirk steady as the dust settled.
Rex scrambled to his feet, pride bruised but not broken, and glared at Gojo. Before he could swing again, Gojo stepped forward, one foot pressing lightly on Rex's chest—not hard, just enough to pin him down.
The crowd above the glass gasped, Mark's hands were gripping tight… maybe a excitement to fight or just some adrenaline rush. Gojo's chuckle faded, his grin vanishing as a rare seriousness settled over him, his voice low and sharp.
"Give up, Rex," he said, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. "This time, I'm not holding back with my punches. You don't want that." The words hung heavy, a warning wrapped in ice.
What Gojo didn't mean to let slip—what hit the room like a silent bomb—was that he'd been holding back even now, without using Infinity, Blue, Red, or any technique.
He was holding back while holding back, his raw skill alone enough to toy with Rex like a kid swatting flies. The crowd didn't catch it fully, but Rex's eyes widened slightly, sensing the weight but...
Rex, true to form, didn't buy it. He barked a laugh, shoving Gojo's foot off and springing up, wiping dirt from his jaw.
"You can't fool me, white-hair!" he snapped, voice dripping with that cocky edge. "You're just talking big 'cause you can't take me without your fancy powers! What, hitting your limit already? That's why you're begging me to quit, huh?" His grin was all bravado, ego flaring even as his bruised face told a different story.
Gojo didn't bother replying. He moved—blindingly fast, a flicker of motion—and appeared right in front of Rex, so close the guy barely had time to blink.
Gojo's fist snapped out, a clean, sharp punch that cracked against Rex's cheek with a sickening thwack.
The impact twisted Rex's head to the side, his skin rippling from the force, a red welt blooming instantly. Rex staggered, eyes wide with shock, but Gojo was already moving, flowing into his martial arts like water.
Another punch—fast, precise—slammed into Rex's jaw, jerking his head the other way, spit flying as his teeth clacked together.
The hits were relentless, each one landing with a dull thud—a left hook to the temple, a right cross to the nose, a straight jab to the mouth.
Rex's face bounced left, right, left again, too slow to block, his cocky grin gone, replaced by a dazed grimace as pain sank in.
Up top, the crowd winced with every blow—Mark's just seeing, Bulletproof giving a smirk like face.
Rex was a classic: chill on the surface, cocky to a fault, ego bigger than his brain, and arrogant enough to rub people raw.
Deep down, sure, he was a decent guy—loyal when it counted—but that outer layer? Most folks couldn't stand it. Gojo didn't care either way.
He didn't hate Rex, didn't like him much—Rex wasn't worth the effort to feel strongly about.
To Gojo, he was just a loudmouth in over his head, not a problem, not a threat, just… there.
Gojo kept going, his fists a blur—another jab snapped Rex's head back, blood trickling from a split lip. Rex swung wildly, a desperate counter, but Gojo slipped it, stepping in close.
He pivoted, winding up, and delivered a final blow—a roundhouse kick, his leg whipping out like a steel cable.
The kick slammed into Rex's side, right at his arm, with a bone-deep crunch. The force sent Rex flying, his body spinning as he crashed into the reinforced wall with a jarring thud.
He slid down, hitting the floor hard, blood dripping from his nose, pooling at his mouth, a thin trickle leaking from one ear.
He coughed, spitting red, clutching his arm—broken where the kick had landed, the bone snapped clean under Gojo's precision.
Gojo stood over him, hands back in his pockets, sunglasses glinting as he looked down. "Told ya," he said, voice light again, like he'd just finished a warm-up.
Rex groaned, head lolling, too beat to talk back.
….
A/N: Hehehe… So, how was the chapter it was big and Rex Bashing, do tell me your thoughts. And how about you comment and make this chapter a bit special… like getting 99+ comments in just under an hour.
And guys add my other fanfic to your library. "Madara Uchiha In Jujutsu Kaisen" it would be really great, and help me come in ranking of top 5. It eould mean a lot to me. (you can check out the fanfic from my profile or directly from this chapter author note)
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