A player in Jujutsu Kaisen

The petty monarch [111]

The air crackled with the unexpected turn of events. Gojo's playful grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise as Kenzo's swift dodge sent his fist flying past. The following knee strike landed with a sickening thud, momentarily stealing the oxygen from Gojo's lungs.

Before Gojo could recover, a flurry of kicks followed, each precise and powerful, pushing him back with a relentless rhythm. Gojo, used to dominating in these sparring matches, found himself struggling to anticipate Kenzo's movements. His playful taunts died on his lips, replaced by a focused gaze as he desperately tried to regain his footing.

With a final, vicious kick, Kenzo sent Gojo crashing into the barrier of Tengen, the impact leaving a spiderweb crack on its surface. Gojo emerged, winded but undeterred, cracking his knuckles with a nonchalant grin.

"So, student," he drawled, his voice laced with amusement, "pent-up frustration, eh? How adorable."

But the playful edge to his voice was barely there. Gojo, despite his jovial facade, was a keen observer. He recognized the simmering intensity in Kenzo's eyes, the controlled aggression fueling each blow. This wasn't just a sparring session; it was a release, a catharsis for months of pent-up emotions.

Kenzo met his gaze, a dark glint replacing his usual stoicism. "You have no idea how good it feels," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "to finally be the one doing the beating."

"Oh, come on, Kenzo," Gojo whined, his playful mask returning full force. "Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge over a little concrete-and-laughter combo? It's not like I dragged you through the Sahara!"

Kenzo crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. "Little? It was a parking lot, and you laughed for at least five minutes! My pride still aches, you sadist."

Gojo chuckled, feigning offense. "Pride? You, with your stoicism and brooding persona, have pride? Who knew?" He winked. "Besides, you gotta admit, it was a pretty epic takedown. You should be thanking me for making you a viral sensation within the Jujutsu world."

Kenzo rolled his eyes, the image of his dusty, defeated self plastered across social media flashing in his mind. "Viral? More like humiliating. And trust me, the only sensation I felt was the throbbing pain in my face."

Gojo feigned concern, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Oh, the horror! But think of the views! You could've launched your own merchandise line – 'Kenzo: Concrete Connoisseur' t-shirts, anyone?"

Kenzo's scowl morphed into a deadpan stare. "Gojo, if you don't stop, I'm going to forget we're about to face a major threat and unleash my full fury on you, concrete-free zone or not."

The air crackled with Gojo's playful challenge, "And what you gonna do about it?" It hung heavy, a taunt laced with amusement and a hint of underlying tension. But before the scene could unfold further, a shift occurred.

Mahito emerged from the shattered domain, a triumphant grin splitting his face. His hands cradled the grotesque form of Kenjaku, twisted and mutated by Mahito's cursed energy. His victory buzzed in the air, a chilling counterpoint to the playful banter outside.

Suddenly, his eyes darted to a specific spot, his grin faltering. The swarm of shadow soldiers, once under Kenzo's control, were engaged in a peculiar activity. They weren't attacking, not in the traditional sense. They were...jumping on Gojo.

Jumping on Gojo Satoru, the Six-Eyed King, the Limitless Sorcerer.

Mahito's brows furrowed in confusion. Gojo, usually a blur of movement and power, stood frozen, a whirlwind of shadow soldiers bouncing harmlessly off his Infinity barrier. But the sight of Kenzo, his face contorted in a mix of amusement and grudging participation, only added to the enigma.