Fistful of Infinity – Chapter 52

Ren was airborne, his body pulled by cursed strings, adrenaline, and fury, but his mind? Calm. Dead calm.

Yup… he's testing me for sure.

He rotated midair, slipping back into stance, blood dripping from his lip, his eyes already locked on the monster in human clothes—Gojo Satoru.

If he wanted to catch me or kill me, he would've used Blue or Red by now. I'd be pasted against the wall. But he didn't. He's holding back…

Ren's lips curled into a grin.

Ha… this is a golden opportunity. To fight one of the strongest. Even if he's holding back, I can learn from this. I have to.

CRACK!

A blur.

A hand.

Pain.

A punch slammed into Ren's face—so fast, so direct, he hadn't even seen Gojo move. His body twisted in the air like a puppet with cut strings, slamming into a billboard on the rooftop behind him.

"Rrren!" Rika roared, her voice a broken chorus of distorted echoes.

She exploded forward, a massive fist cocked back, ready to punch Gojo straight into the building.

Gojo didn't flinch.

He smiled, raised a single finger—

"Blue."

WHOOOM!

Rika was yanked backward by a gravitational force, her body screeching across the rooftop tiles and tumbling over the ledge.

"No, you don't," Gojo said with a smirk. "Not fighting you today, spooky."

Ren blinked through the stars in his vision, wiped blood from his nose, and ran cursed energy through his body. The familiar red spiral of his circuit flared to life, crawling across his arms, reinforcing joints and skin.

He jumped.

Hi.

Fast.

"HYAAAAAH!"

He came down at Gojo with a clean punch, his form tighter than usual, the red thread dancing faintly around his limbs.

And Gojo?

He caught the punch with one hand.

"Nice," Gojo said with a grin. "You're aiming better than most first-years."

Ren's eyes twitched.

Infinity's off. That was the only reason his fist didn't stop short.

Hand-to-hand? he thought. Fine. I know how to throw a few punches—I did boxing for, like, two weeks back in my old life. That has to count for something—

THWACK!

Gojo's elbow slammed into Ren's jaw.

CRACK!

A knee met his stomach. Ren doubled over.

And then—BANG.

A spinning kick sent him sailing.

Ren's back smashed into the water tank at the corner of the rooftop, denting the steel. He dropped down, gasping, vision a blur of lights and pain.

"Gh—Red Stitch…!" He hissed, red lines shooting out to stop his fall as he teetered over the edge.

His fingers clawed into the concrete.

Then—Rika was back.

She surged up from below, caught Ren mid-fall, wrapped her massive arms around him protectively, and snarled at Gojo.

"RRRRRRRAAAAAAAHHHH!"

It wasn't a scream—it was a sonic boom.

A howl so loud Gojo winced, raising his fingers to plug his ears.

"Yowch. Okay, okay—sounds like a good trick," he muttered.

Ren coughed inside Rika's arms, then looked up weakly. He saw Gojo—completely fine.

Still floating.

Still untouched.

Still smug.

He's unbeatable, Ren thought. Not just strong—unreachable. I can't land a hit on him unless he lets me. That's what this is. A test. A puzzle.

And I'm losing.

He looked at Rika.

Her chest rose and fell, cursed energy pulsing off her body like heat.

She wanted to fight.

But Ren…

Ren closed his eyes.

"Rika… go to sleep."

Her form flickered.

The cursed spirit shuddered.

And slowly…

She vanished into smoke.

Gojo's brows lifted.

"Huh? What do you mean you're giving up?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "C'mon, you don't want to throw another gas cylinder at my face? I know you've got more in that tiny apartment."

Ren sat down on the edge of the rooftop, legs swinging over the side, and looked up at Gojo with a tired, calm face.

"I mean," Ren said dryly, "you beat me up in hand-to-hand. Exploded a table at me. A literal gas cylinder went off in your face, and you don't even have dust on you."

He pointed a finger lazily.

"You've got something around you. Not a normal barrier—something passive. Something automatic. I can't touch you unless you let me."

Gojo tilted his head. "Not bad…"

Ren leaned back on his hands.

"So… yeah. You're unbeatable. Why would I fight?"

For a second, Gojo was speechless.

Not because Ren gave up.

But because Ren understood.

That quickly. That calmly.

Gojo's thoughts spiraled.

He's sixteen. Has no real training. But he kept up with me for what—twenty seconds? That's better than half the students I've slapped around in their third year.

And the way he talks—it's analytical. Mature. Like he knows this is a spar. Like he's already broken me down and logged the information in a file labeled 'Do Not Fight Unless You're Suicidal.'

He smiled.

His mind's a weapon.

Sure, he's lacking in technique. His form is garbage. His durability is trash. His cursed energy flow? impressive. But that brain?

That brain is special.

And just as Gojo was wrapping up his mental monologue—

Ren spoke again, voice sharp with sarcasm.

"Uh, don't tell me you go around beating up teenagers for fun," he said, cocking a brow. "Weird hobby for an old man like you."

Gojo flinched.

Actually flinched.

"Old man???"

"You're twenty-nine, aren't you?"

"No, I—HEY! Don't round up! I'm TWENTY-EIGHT!"

Ren smirked, rubbing his jaw.

"Still beating up kids like you're in a midlife crisis…"

Gojo groaned.

And Ren paused.

The rooftop shifted.

No, not the rooftop.

His vision.

It tilted. Warped.

And then, slowly, Rens's eyes closed.

He slumped forward.

Out cold.