Bloodied Streets

The battle between Naoya Zenin, Furōkawa, and Choso spilled out into the desolate streets, their cursed energy radiating in every direction.

Naoya moved like a phantom, his speed making him nearly untouchable. His taunting laughter echoed as he weaved effortlessly through their attacks.

"You've got all this power now, brat," Naoya sneered, dashing behind him in a blur. "But you're still too slow to track me!"

Before Furō could respond, Naoya tapped his chest lightly, causing Furō to flinch. In the next moment, Naoya's fist drove into Furō's gut with a clean, precise punch. Furō slid back several feet, the pavement cracking beneath his heels, but he stood tall, barely phased.

Choso's eyes widened as he watched

Furō recover without so much as a wince. "That hit should've at least knocked the wind out of you. How are you not hurt?"

Furō brushed the dust off his shirt and smirked faintly. "This guy isn't as strong as he thinks—he's just fast. Reinforce your body at the moment of impact, and it won't do anything."

Choso didn't understand the reflex but, still suspicious, asked, "Why did you let Yuta chase after Yuji? I don't understand."

Furō's expression hardened. "I don't know what Yuta has planned, but I'm going to trust him for now, and you should too. Don't worry, we're still on your side."

Choso hesitated, his fists clenching as he processed Furō's words. Reluctantly, he nodded. "I'll trust you... for now."

Furō looked back at Naoya, who was casually bouncing on the balls of his feet, watching them like a predator circling prey. "We just need to hold him off for... however long it

takes," Furō finished, readying his fist.

Choso, steeling his resolve, activated his Flowing Red Scale: Stack technique. His veins pulsed with cursed energy, his body surging with power as he moved to match Naoya's blinding speed.

Naoya smirked at the display, his confidence unwavering. "Oh? So, you're actually trying now. Good. I was getting bored."

Naoya's movements became a blur, darting between Furōkawa and Choso with surgical precision. Furō, still holding back to avoid interfering with Yuta's plans, focused on parrying Naoya's attacks. Every swing of his hands met Naoya's strikes with resounding clashes.

Choso capitalized on the moments in between, his blood-soaked fists crashing toward Naoya in fierce bursts.

Each of his strikes forced Naoya to dodge narrowly, buying Furō enough time to reset his defense. Their coordination, though unspoken, was beginning to frustrate Naoya.

"Is this really the best you've got?"

Naoya sneered as he ducked under another of Choso's blows and sent a lightning-fast jab into his ribs. "Two against one, and you're still struggling to keep up!"

Furō remained calm, his mind racing. I shouldn't fully engage him yet, but if he pulls out anything lethal...

As if reading his thoughts, Naoya suddenly stopped mid-dash and reached into his sleeve. He withdrew a small, gleaming knife, its edge shimmering with cursed energy.

Furō's eyes widened. "Great. A knife."

Naoya grinned, spinning the blade effortlessly in his hand. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're scared of a little sting."

He lunged forward, his speed even faster than before, aiming the blade at Choso. Choso managed to dodge partially but winced as the knife grazed his side, leaving a deep cut. Blood poured from the wound, staining his clothes and the ground beneath him.

"Choso!" Furō shouted, deflecting an incoming slash aimed at himself. "Are you okay?"

Choso gritted his teeth, his cursed energy flaring despite the pain. "This is nothing! Worry about yourself!"

Naoya capitalized on the chaos, his knife flashing as he landed a series of shallow cuts on Furō's arms, legs, and torso. Furō staggered slightly but steadied himself, his hands fixing themselves into a defensive position.

"This is starting to get fun!" Naoya laughed, reveling in the chaos.

Choso, his breathing heavy, suddenly released an enormous wave of cursed blood from his open wound. The liquid surged forward, flooding the underpass and forcing Naoya to retreat to higher ground.

"What the hell-" Naoya cursed, his movements slowed by the thick blood now coating the ground.

Before Naoya could recover, Furō dashed forward, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him back into the pool of blood with a powerful swing.

Naoya stumbled, his feet slipping as he struggled to maintain his balance.

Choso raised his hands, his piercing gaze locked onto Naoya. The air grew heavy with cursed energy as a sharp, blood-red beam began to form at his fingertips.

"He doesn't know my technique yet," Naoya thought, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to dodge. "Even with this blood slowing me down, I can outrun his Piercing Blood!"

But Furō smirked, his voice cutting through the tension. "Checkmate, blondie."

Naoya's confidence wavered, and for the first time, he looked unsure. Choso didn't fire Piercing Blood. Instead, the blood around him swirled into a large sphere before erupting into countless high-speed projectiles.

"Supernova."

The blood projectiles tore through the air, piercing Naoya's flesh with devastating precision. He screamed in pain as the attack shredded through his body, leaving him bloodied and gasping for air. The remaining blood retreated back to Choso, who stood beside Furō, both sorcerers staring down at the injured Zenin.

"Don't look down on me!" Naoya shouted, his voice shaking as he bled on the ground.

Before Furō could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the tunnel. Yuta Okkotsu appeared from the shadows, dragging Yuji by the hood of his jacket like a disobedient child.

Yuji, bruised and unconscious.

Choso's expression darkened as he saw Yuji's condition. "Let him go!" he roared, stepping forward with renewed rage.

Yuta's face remained stoic as he released Yuji momentarily, only to deliver a swift punch to Choso's face.

The blow knocked Choso out cold, his body crumpling to the ground.

"Choso!" Furō shouted, quickly squatting next to his fallen ally. He glared up at Yuta. "Was that really necessary?"

Yuta didn't flinch. "Unfortunately, I wouldn't have been able to calm him down otherwise. This was the quickest solution."

Furō dropped his head, sighing deeply.

"You owe him an apology when he wakes up."

Yuta shrugged, his gaze shifting to Naoya, who was struggling to push himself up from the bloodied ground.

"And what about this guy?" Furō asked, gesturing toward the injured Zenin.

Yuta stepped forward, his hand glowing faintly with cursed energy. "Looks like you're hurt, Naoya."

Naoya's eyes widened as he suddenly felt a wave of nausea. He coughed violently, then vomited blood onto the ground. His mind raced as the realization hit him. "Poison!" he thought. "This must be Choso's blood, he can't be human!"

Yuta knelt down, his expression as calm as ever. "I'll heal you, Naoya. But in exchange, you're going to inform your superiors of Itadori's death. Understood?"

Naoya, unable to speak through the pain, nodded weakly. He had no other choice.

Yuta's glowing hand pressed against Naoya's wounds, the healing energy seeping into his body. The poison's effects faded, but the humiliation of defeat lingered.

With Naoya now subdued and Choso unconscious, Furō shouldered Choso's limp body as Yuta grabbed Yuji by the hood again. The group began to move, leaving the blood-soaked underpass behind.

"Where are we headed?" Furō asked Yuta.

"There's a broken-down convenience store we've been using as a camp," Yuta replied. "Fushiguro is there."

Furō's eyes flickered with recognition, a faint glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Without another word, he followed Yuta into the night, preparing himself for whatever came next.