A player in Jujutsu Kaisen

The end {133}

Kenzo winced as his body knit itself back together, the aftermath of a brutal fight leaving him sore and stiff. He pushed himself to his feet, following the faint echo of Gojo's cursed energy signature. The sight that greeted him was both surprising and unsettling.

Gojo's domain, a sight usually as breathtaking as it was terrifying, was in tatters. Shards of Infinity shimmered like broken glass, swirling around the figure of the white-haired sorcerer who sat slumped against a ruined pillar. Burns marred Gojo's normally flawless skin, a deep crimson that even his regenerative abilities were struggling to fully erase."Someone seems like they had a hard time," Kenzo managed, his voice raspy from exertion.

Gojo, ever the showman, flashed him a grin despite his evident exhaustion. "Nah, this was light work." His voice came out raspy, a stark contrast to his usual nonchalant drawl.

Kenzo raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Yeah, and you want me to believe that when you look like a walking barbecue?"

Gojo's pristine white coat was now a tattered mess, smoke curling from singed edges. Blood trickled down his temple, painting a gruesome line across his cheek. He looked, for the first time in Kenzo's memory, truly worse for wear.

A chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "Just got myself a very bad tan," he said, his usual playful glint dimmed but not extinguished.

Kenzo's already depleted reserves of energy drained further at the sight. Exhaustion pulled at him, dragging him down. He collapsed onto his back with a groan, eyes scanning the battlefield where their comrades continued their fight.

"And look who's talking," Gojo said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he spotted Kenzo's state. Kenzo simply grunted in response, mustering the energy for a weak retort.

"Apparently dragon breath isn't exactly good for a tan either," he mumbled, the memory of the scorching attack still fresh.

Gojo let out a soft laugh, a sound rough around the edges. "Heh, it could have been worse. At least you're not dead."

Kenzo cracked a tired smile. "Should we help them?" he managed, gesturing towards the ongoing battles.

Gojo tilted his head back, gazing at the sky where wisps of his shattered domain lingered. A serene smile played on his lips. "Nah," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Leave it to them. They can handle it."

So, the two strongest jujutsu sorcerers on the battlefield lay there, drained but far from defeated. They were the unshakable pillars, the last line of defense, and for now, they watched, their trust in their comrades a silent testament to their unwavering strength.

/

Kenzo's question hung in the air, a comedic counterpoint to the tense atmosphere of the battlefield. "Gojo-sensei, on a scale of one to ten, how willing would you be to get your soul touched?"

Gojo, ever the enigma, blinked once, then twice, processing the unexpected query. "Excuse me?" he drawled, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

"Just asking if you'd let Mahito fix you up," Kenzo clarified, gesturing towards the shadowy figure that materialized beside Gojo. Mahito, ever the opportunist, wasted no time, tendrils of his cursed energy reaching out to Kenzo, his form solidifying as he began the process of reshaping Kenzo's battered soul.

Gojo chuckled, a deep rumble that echoed despite his weakened state. "Nah, I don't feel like being touched today. Gotta keep my soul virginity intact, you know?" He winked at Kenzo, his usual flippancy returning, albeit slightly dimmed.

Kenzo blinked, processing the absurdity of Gojo's statement. He had grown accustomed to his sensei's brand of humor, yet this took the cake. Still, a small smile played on his lips. He had achieved his goal – a new friend for Gojo, a sense of connection that had previously been absent.