Late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rooftop. The wind tugged at Akari's hair as she adjusted the straps of her sports bra and tied her short pink curls into a loose bun. She stretched her arms over her head and looked across the concrete at Riku, who was casually rolling his neck, barefoot, calm as always.
"You know," she said with a grin, "I've been keeping up with you all week. Maybe I should start teaching you."
Riku raised an eyebrow. "You feeling bold today."
"Just saying." She smirked and brought her hands up. "You ready, old man?"
He didn't reply.
He simply vanished from her sight for half a second—and the next thing she knew, she was flat on her back.
"What the—?!"
Riku stood over her, relaxed, hands behind his back.
"I didn't use cursed energy," he said. "And neither did you. This was just pure technique."
Akari blinked up at him, stunned. She sat up slowly. "Okay… okay, round two."
They circled each other again, bare feet shifting on the warm rooftop. No flares of cursed energy. No enhanced speed. Just bodies and instinct.
Akari darted in first this time, aiming a sharp jab at his chin—only for Riku to slip to the side and swat her wrist away, catching her momentum and spinning her into a gentle but complete takedown. Her back hit the mat again.
"You're fast," he said, tone level. "But you're leading with your shoulders. And you keep resetting your stance after every strike."
Akari exhaled hard and got back up. "I liked it better when you were praising me."
"You get praise when you earn it," he replied. "Let's go."
She tried again. A feint, a low kick, a pivot into a punch aimed at his ribs. Riku stepped inside her guard and, using her own balance against her, shoved her off course with the flat of his hand. She stumbled, caught herself, and came back swinging.
This time, he blocked her with just one arm.
"Come on," she growled.
"You wanted to spar." His voice was still calm.
"You're going easy on me!"
He disappeared again—no cursed energy, just pure, absurdly refined footwork and angles—and she barely caught a glimpse of his shoulder before she found herself pinned, her back pressed to the mat, Riku holding her arm in a clean lock.
"Still think you're the teacher?" he asked.
Akari blew a pink strand of hair from her face and glared up at him. "You suck."
"Maybe. But I win."
They stayed like that for a moment before he released her, and she groaned as she sat up.
"Okay," she admitted. "That was humbling."
Riku offered her a hand. "You're getting sharper. But strength doesn't mean anything without control."
She took his hand and let him pull her up. "Then teach me control."
He gave a rare smile. "Gladly."
They went again. Slower this time, more instructional. He corrected her stances, guided her balance, and broke down combinations. Every move she picked up, he pushed her to refine. He didn't coddle her, didn't sugarcoat it. But he never belittled her either.
By sunset, they were both dripping with sweat, muscles sore, but Akari was moving differently. More calculated. More precise.
Riku handed her a water bottle and nodded. "Now you're learning."
She chugged half of it in one breath and leaned back on the railing, gazing over the cityscape.
"You really know your stuff."
"I've had time."
She glanced at him. "Thanks for not going easy on me."
He looked back at her. "If I did, I'd be insulting you."
They didn't say much after that. Just stood together, side by side, as the sky darkened and the wind cooled. Somewhere far off, the chaos of the jujutsu world kept turning—but up here, for now, it could wait.
Tomorrow could bring more battles.
Tonight was about progress.
....
My brother, we are approaching the return of the SYSTEM. Let us rise and celebrate. Let us cry out in joy and prepare to be absolutely broken and completely OP. We are becoming GODS. Also comment what he should get for the return and I'll pick the one I like(most broken).