Bound In Love's Curse [Gojo Satoru x Female Readers]

139 ~ Hundred And Thirty-Nine

Disclaimer: This chapter contains spoilers about a specific character from the manga—read at your own risk!

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[Y]ou took a couple of slow, deliberate steps forward, your body loose, relaxed. This time, it was your turn to crack your neck, a quiet pop echoing as you tilted your head to the side, working out the stiffness. "Alright, Kinji Hakari... let's see how lucky you really are."

He cocked an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Oh? Finally getting serious? About time."

In all honesty, you used to think you were decent at hand-to-hand combat. It had never crossed your mind much, how you knew how to fight—until the rooftop incident. Afterward, as you'd tried to piece together your thoughts and memories, it clicked. You'd learned from someone. Shinichi Arai.

The memory was still a little hazy, but you remembered his voice, calm and reassuring, telling you, "You don't have to be afraid if you know how to fight. You won't need to hurt, and no one will be able to hurt you." That was why you'd fallen in love with him back in high school.

Your life had been a mess then—bullied at school, bullied at home. Shinichi had been the only one who'd seen it all and cared enough to teach you. But would your combat prowess really be enough to handle Kinji? You barely had any real-world experience. Sure, you'd trained with Maki, but a fight like this wasn't training.

Another thought crossed your mind as you moved back and forth, eyes never leaving Kinji's. You moved like a predator circling its prey, gauging the distance, waiting for the right moment.

Maki's combat style was brutal and efficient, drilled into you over hours and hours of relentless sparring. 'If I combine Maki's style with my own... maybe it'll be enough.'

You let out a slow breath, steadying yourself. That exhale was all Kinji needed. His eyes sharpened, that smirk still plastered on his face.

"You look focused," he commented with a hint of a taunt, taking a casual step forward. "Ready to give up? I get it, it's hard to fight when you're outmatched."

You raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. "You talk too much."

With that, you lunged forward, diving straight for his face with a full-force punch.

Kinji's eyes widened just slightly—a flicker of surprise. He hadn't expected you to go straight for the face, not this fast.

"Coming in hot, huh?" he sneered, shifting to block.

But that was exactly what you were counting on. The punch wasn't just a straightforward hit—it was a setup. As your fist barreled toward him, you prepared for the inevitable counter.

You didn't expect him to block or dodge conventionally—Kinji's fighting style was unorthodox, unpredictable. He'd likely deflect with something creative, banking on his innate luck and cursed energy to shift the tide in his favor.

But this time, you weren't planning on stopping with just one hit.

In the split second before your fist connected—or missed—you shifted your weight, your feet gliding into position for your next move. Maki's voice echoed in your mind, "Never stop at the first hit. Your body's a weapon—use all of it."

If your punch missed, your elbow was ready, your knee already in motion, your body one seamless machine of attack after attack.

As Kinji reacted, you felt a surge of clarity—your cursed energy flowing in perfect synchronization with your body. It wasn't just about raw strength or overwhelming force. It was about precision, control, and adaptability.

Kinji deflected your punch with his forearm, but before he could react, your elbow was already heading for his ribs.

"Fast," he grunted, blocking the blow but taking a half-step back.

A grin spread across your face. 'Got him.'

"Not bad," he complimented, his voice low, eyes narrowing as you stepped back slightly. "But luck's still on my side, you know that, right?"

Just then, his punch came in fast—too fast.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms just in time to block it. The impact was brutal, forcing you to skid backward, boots dragging against the ground. You could feel the vibration from the hit lingering in your arms. Even with cursed energy reinforcing your body, the blow stung.

Panting, you quickly assessed your opponent. Kinji, in contrast, barely looked fazed. His expression was smug, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and mischief.

"Zen'in style, huh?" Kinji remarked, his tone casual, but there was a slight edge of mockery in his voice. His hands shifted behind his head, relaxed like he was on a leisurely stroll. "Predictable. Maki's technique might be faster, but at least her cursed energy is harder to sense. You? You're practically screaming every move with how much your cursed energy is fluctuating."

His comment hit like a revelation. You blinked, realizing he had a point. 'He can sense everything I do before I even move?'

Of course, that's how you, yourself, could always tell what others were planning, even without seeing them. The cursed energy around them, the way it rippled, how it fluctuated—it was a dead giveaway. If you could read those ripples, seasoned sorcerers like Kinji could do the same, if not better.

But what made you different?

Your mind raced, connecting dots. Two things:

First, if your cursed energy was blocked or masked by your blockers when you weren't using it, no one could sense your presence or predict your moves.