絆 | bond | gojo satoru

さんじゅうさん | thirty three

絆 | kizuna | bond

33

Yuri

NAOYA'S TAUNTING WORDS, "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?" sliced through the air like a verbal blade, stoking the flames of my fury. I had underestimated him; he was faster and more skilled than I had anticipated. His mocking grin only fueled my determination as I locked eyes with him, a glower of pure hatred in my gaze.

Gritting my teeth, I lunged at him once more, my katana a blur of deadly steel. The clash of our weapons resonated like thunder, a visceral testament to the battle of wills that raged between us.

"You underestimate me, Naoya," I hissed through clenched teeth, my voice edged with defiance. "I've trained for this moment my entire life."

He parried my strike effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. "Training is one thing, Yuri," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. "But experience is another. You can't match the depths of my cruelty."

With every clash, every strike, I felt the weight of our shared history pressing down on me. This battle was not just physical; it was a reckoning of our past, a culmination of years of pain and hatred. I couldn't let him win, not after all that had transpired.

Anger and hatred coursed through my veins like molten lava, consuming every fiber of my being. I had never anticipated that Naoya would be such a formidable opponent, especially in combat skill and swordsmanship. What left me in awe, however, was that he wielded only a knife, relying solely on his intelligence and inhumane speed to dominate the battlefield.

Every move he made was a testament to his mastery of the blade, his knife becoming an extension of his will. His agility was nothing short of supernatural, and it left me struggling to keep up, my own katana feeling like a clumsy, burdensome weapon in comparison.

As our blades clashed and sparks flew, I gritted my teeth, my muscles straining with effort. "You've honed your skills well," I admitted, my voice laced with begrudging respect. "But I won't let you win, you fucking asshole."

He grinned, his eyes alight with a sinister gleam. "That's the spirit, my love," he purred, his voice dripping with mockery. "But you see, I've always been one step ahead."

Our dance of death continued, the battlefield a whirlwind of steel and fury. With every move he made, it became increasingly clear that this was not just a physical battle; it was a battle of wits, a test of who could outmaneuver the other in a deadly game of strategy and skill.

The hatred I felt for him was a relentless fire burning within me, a driving force that pushed me to my limits. I couldn't afford to lose, not to this monster who had haunted my nightmares for so long. As we clashed once more, I vowed to myself that I would find a way to defeat him, no matter the cost.

In the midst of my relentless battle with Naoya, my peripheral vision caught a movement, a looming presence that sent a chill down my spine. I turned my head slightly, my eyes locking onto the figure of a man approaching, a man I recognized all too well—Jinichi Zenin, Toji's older brother.