133 The end {133}
Kenzo winced as his body knit itself back together, the aftermath of a brutal fight leaving him sore and stiff. He pushed himself to his feet, following the faint echo of Gojo's cursed energy signature. The sight that greeted him was both surprising and unsettling.
Gojo's domain, a sight usually as breathtaking as it was terrifying, was in tatters. Shards of Infinity shimmered like broken glass, swirling around the figure of the white-haired sorcerer who sat slumped against a ruined pillar. Burns marred Gojo's normally flawless skin, a deep crimson that even his regenerative abilities were struggling to fully erase."Someone seems like they had a hard time," Kenzo managed, his voice raspy from exertion.
Gojo, ever the showman, flashed him a grin despite his evident exhaustion. "Nah, this was light work." His voice came out raspy, a stark contrast to his usual nonchalant drawl.
Kenzo raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah, and you want me to believe that when you look like a walking barbecue?"
Gojo's pristine white coat was now a tattered mess, smoke curling from singed edges. Blood trickled down his temple, painting a gruesome line across his cheek. He looked, for the first time in Kenzo's memory, truly worse for wear.
A chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "Just got myself a very bad tan," he said, his usual playful glint dimmed but not extinguished.
Kenzo's already depleted reserves of energy drained further at the sight. Exhaustion pulled at him, dragging him down. He collapsed onto his back with a groan, eyes scanning the battlefield where their comrades continued their fight.
"And look who's talking," Gojo said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he spotted Kenzo's state. Kenzo simply grunted in response, mustering the energy for a weak retort.
"Apparently dragon breath isn't exactly good for a tan either," he mumbled, the memory of the scorching attack still fresh.
Gojo let out a soft laugh, a sound rough around the edges. "Heh, it could have been worse. At least you're not dead."
Kenzo cracked a tired smile. "Should we help them?" he managed, gesturing towards the ongoing battles.
Gojo tilted his head back, gazing at the sky where wisps of his shattered domain lingered. A serene smile played on his lips. "Nah," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Leave it to them. They can handle it."
So, the two strongest jujutsu sorcerers on the battlefield lay there, drained but far from defeated. They were the unshakable pillars, the last line of defense, and for now, they watched, their trust in their comrades a silent testament to their unwavering strength.
/
Kenzo's question hung in the air, a comedic counterpoint to the tense atmosphere of the battlefield. "Gojo-sensei, on a scale of one to ten, how willing would you be to get your soul touched?"
Gojo, ever the enigma, blinked once, then twice, processing the unexpected query. "Excuse me?" he drawled, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.
"Just asking if you'd let Mahito fix you up," Kenzo clarified, gesturing towards the shadowy figure that materialized beside Gojo. Mahito, ever the opportunist, wasted no time, tendrils of his cursed energy reaching out to Kenzo, his form solidifying as he began the process of reshaping Kenzo's battered soul.
Gojo chuckled, a deep rumble that echoed despite his weakened state. "Nah, I don't feel like being touched today. Gotta keep my soul virginity intact, you know?" He winked at Kenzo, his usual flippancy returning, albeit slightly dimmed.
Kenzo blinked, processing the absurdity of Gojo's statement. He had grown accustomed to his sensei's brand of humor, yet this took the cake. Still, a small smile played on his lips. He had achieved his goal – a new friend for Gojo, a sense of connection that had previously been absent.
Looking around the battlefield, Kenzo saw his comrades locked in battle, each pushing their limits. He had played his part – protecting his friends, his world, from the onslaught of the Monarchs. As long as those monstrous entities remained at bay, a fragile peace existed. And for now, that was enough.
/
The dust of war settled, a heavy, acrid blanket over the land. The remnants of the battle with the Monarchs were a stark reminder of the devastation they had almost wrought. Kenzo, his body a canvas of faded scars, stood amidst the ruins, a weary but resolute figure.
He offered a brief, yet genuine, thanks to each of his comrades who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder against the monstrous threat. The gratitude in his eyes, a reflection of the burden they had shared, needed no further words. It was a silent pact forged in the crucible of battle, a bond solidified by the blood and sweat spilled in defense of their world.
His next mission, a resolute glint hardening his gaze, was a solitary one. Uraume, the enigmatic servant of Sukuna, had to be silenced. He hunted her down with the relentless focus of a predator, her demise a grim necessity. But what of Sukuna himself? Though the King of Curses lay vanquished, his soul, a potent and volatile entity, remained.
Memories flickered across Kenzo's mind – a time not so long ago, a conversation fueled by potent narcotics, a fleeting dream that felt more like a fevered hallucination. In those hazy moments, the notion of binding Sukuna to his will seemed a fantastical impossibility, a madman's rant.
Yet, here he stood, the impossible a stark reality. With a surge of cursed energy, a dark tendril lashed out, coiling around the disembodied soul of Sukuna. The air crackled with malevolent power as the King of Curses roared in defiance, a sound that resonated within Kenzo's very being. But the binding held, a testament to Kenzo's mastery and the desperation of the situation.
Thus, the King of Curses became a twisted shadow soldier, a chained beast forever tethered to Kenzo's will. A chilling victory, a Faustian bargain etched in cursed energy.
Years flowed by, a peaceful interlude after the storm. The world, scarred but resilient, began to heal. Kenzo, once a warrior honed by conflict, found himself in an unexpected role – a father. In his arms, a tiny tyrant with eyes the same shade of brown as his own, mewled and gurgled. It was his son, a new life born from the ashes of war, a testament to the love he shared with his partner amidst the chaos.
The little one, with a grip that belied his size, yanked on a strand of Kenzo's hair, eliciting a surprised yelp. Kenzo, despite himself, couldn't help but chuckle. "For a small guy, you sure are strong," he said, his voice tinged with amusement and a touch of pride.
The baby, oblivious to the chaos he was causing, rewarded him with a gummy smile, his eyes sparkling with a primal joy that mirrored the warmth blooming in Kenzo's chest. At that moment, the weight of the world seemed to melt away. Here, in the quiet chaos of his son's laughter, Kenzo found a different kind of strength, a tenderness that surprised him.
/
"What in the world has Maki been feeding you?" Kenzo chuckled, hoisting the little one higher in his arms. Despite his son's small stature, the grip on his hair was surprisingly strong. This child, born from the union of the Heavenly Restriction and the Shadow Monarch, was practically destined for greatness. He possessed his mother's impressive physique, a perfect canvas for the immense reserves of Mana he'd undoubtedly inherit from Kenzo. This little bundle of boundless energy was a constant source of amusement, a whirlwind of giggles and flailing limbs.
"He'd make a fine warrior, my liege," chimed a voice from Kenzo's shadow. A miniature Bellion materialized on his shoulder, its scaled body gleaming like polished obsidian.
"Nonsense," came Igris' retort, another shadowy presence solidifying beside Bellion. This time it was a miniature version of the Divine General, his fiery mane seemingly reduced to a playful tuft of red hair. "The young league should be schooled in the marvels of engineering!"
Kenzo rolled his eyes, a familiar warmth spreading through him as his internal shadow soldiers bickered. No matter the situation, they always managed to lighten the mood. One thing was certain: Kento's future was his own to decide. No shadowy advisors, however well-intentioned, would dictate his path.
Kento, oblivious to the debate unfolding around him, rewarded Kenzo with a radiant smile, a perfect reflection of his father's own. "
Good boy," Kenzo cooed, his voice thick with affection. "Let's have a little adventure while your mama catches some sleep, shall we?"
The baby gurgled in agreement, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief. With a silent flick of his wrist, Kenzo activated his mama, teleporting them both away from their home in a blink. The familiar rooftop of the city's tallest structure greeted them, the sprawling cityscape twinkling like a sea of fireflies below. The world stretched before them, a canvas of endless possibilities. Kenzo, with his son nestled securely in his arms, felt a surge of determination.
/
Kenzo cradled his son close, their laughter echoing amidst the wind whipping around the rooftop. But the sound was abruptly cut short as a familiar presence snagged at his senses. He turned to see Gojo, a youthful grin plastered on his face despite the years that had passed. Time seemed to have bypassed the white-haired sorcerer altogether.
"Grand..pa.." Kento babbled, reaching out with a chubby hand toward Gojo. The corners of Gojo's eyes crinkled with amusement as he scooped the child into his arms. Kento giggled, his tiny fingers tugging playfully at Gojo's blindfold.
"Not old, am I?" Gojo teased, his voice carrying its usual lighthearted lilt.
Kenzo chuckled. "Well, you're not exactly 28 anymore, Gojo-sensei. Middle-aged, maybe?"
Gojo feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "Middle-aged! Don't you dare tarnish my youthful image, Kenzo!" A playful glint flickered in his eyes.
Despite the playful jabs, a quiet contentment settled over Kenzo. Gojo's comment, while exaggerated, held a sliver of truth. Time was a relentless river, and even the strongest swimmers eventually felt its current.
He looked back at the sprawling city below, the twinkling lights painting a peaceful tableau. Nine years. Nine years of relative peace, a hard-won serenity that tasted sweeter with every passing day.
A pang of nostalgia tugged at his heart. He should visit Yuji and Yuko Ozawa soon. He'd heard whispers of them having a kid recently - a testament to their happiness. And Megumi, his stoic friend, had finally shed his gloomy shell and started dating someone. It was good to see them all settled, building lives outside the constant struggle against cursed spirits.
This peace, though fragile, was precious. Despite the lull, his training hadn't faltered. Maki, ever the vigilant warrior, wouldn't let him slip into complacency. His strength, honed further over the years, remained a bulwark against any unforeseen threats.
But for now, beneath the starlit sky, he held his son close, the warmth radiating from the small body a comforting counterpoint to the cool night air. Gojo's playful banter filled the quiet, a reminder of their shared bonds, their unwavering camaraderie. At that moment, amidst the quiet laughter and the twinkling city lights, Kenzo knew this peace was worth protecting, worth fighting for with every last drop of his cursed energy and mana. For this was their future, a future he had helped forge, a future filled with the promise of laughter, love, and a world bathed in the gentle light of dawn.
A/N
I had my fun writing this side story, learn some stuff, and may or may not have pulled some bs out of my ass to make some stuff work.
Canon Ship.
KenzoXMaki
YujiXYuko
MegumiX...
I do feel like Gojo will just become a Dilf, he is quite literally scared of women, and Gege himself said he couldn't stay loyal to one woman but if that wasn't a problem then the ship would have been.
GojoXUtahime.
Aight, I did learn something from this and it's that even though the AI rewrite uses fancy words it's not necessarily better so for my next project I plan on using it way less.
Only use it if need be.
After rereading this story personally I would rate it a 3 star, not good just average, not too bad either.
