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Haibara Yu answered with a spirited roar.
He dropped into a wide horse stance, fists raised to chest height, ready.
A lean black shadow shot low across the ground, reversed dagger aimed straight at Nanami’s throat.
Nanami ground his toe into the sand and sidestepped.
His broad-backed cleaver swung in a full arc and bit down with clean precision, exactly at the seven-tenths golden-ratio point along the man’s forearm.
The snap of breaking bone was startlingly crisp in the night wind.
The Ratio Technique forced a weak point into existence.
The assassin’s entire right arm came off at the root.
Blood splashed across the sand in a dark fan.
Before Nanami could raise his blade to finish the screaming wreck, that relentless voice came crashing down from the reef behind him.
“Nanami, kid!
Your slashing form looks like a washed-up housewife who hasn’t eaten in three days hacking at expired seafood!”
“That’s supposed to be an attack?!”
“A true laborer treats every swing as a grand act of cleaving through life’s confusion!
Tighten your core and put some real power into it!”
Comparing me to a fish-chopping housewife.
Nanami Kento’s breathing hitched from sheer fury.
His smooth combo sequence developed a painfully obvious gap.
Two assassins lurking off to the side seized the opening without hesitation.
They drove their boots hard into his lower back.
A dull, heavy thud followed.
“Shut the hell up!”
The impact sent Nanami stumbling forward 2 meters.
His already grim expression darkened to the point of dripping ink.
Every ounce of composure he had spent a lifetime building was teetering on the edge of total collapse.
“Haibara, kid!
Stop just dodging!”
Toji blew an indifferent whistle.
Then he swiveled his attention to the black-haired youth weaving through the flashing blades.
“When you throw a punch, shout the name of the move at the top of your lungs!”
“It’s not just an affirmation of your hard training — it’s the most basic respect you owe to the word hot-blooded!”
“Let your fighting spirit roar!”
Haibara Yu had both arms braced, absorbing an enemy flying kick.
The moment those passionately charged words hit him, his focused eyes ignited with searing light.
“Understood!
Senpai!”
He puffed out his cheeks, compressed the air deep in his lungs, and drove his long-harbored fist forward with everything he had, straight into the assassin’s chest.
“YOUTH INVINCIBLE STRAIGHT PUNCH!”
Wild fist-wind exploded outward, trailing a blazing corona of blue Cursed Energy.
The masked assassin never imagined a Grade 2 beatdown could hit like this.
He felt like a fully-loaded truck had plowed over his chest at full speed.
His ribs shattered.
“WHOA-OHHHH!”
Haibara stared at his smoking fist in delighted shock, then spun toward his partner.
“That move is seriously something else — shouting the name actually doubled the power, Nanami!”
Nanami Kento ground his back molars to dust.
He had absolutely nothing to say to this thoroughly corrupted idiot.
The unending noise overhead.
Haibara Yu’s increasingly loud and unhinged technique announcements right beside him.
In Nanami Kento’s mind, the string labeled reason was emitting a long, strained groan.
“Nanami, kid!
Watch your footwork!”
“With those light, floaty steps, are you rushing to the supermarket to grab discount eggs?!”
“A man’s legs are meant for measuring mountain ranges and vast plains!
Plant your feet before you strike!”
“And your breathing!”
“That shallow rhythm proves you haven’t pushed anywhere near your limit!”
“Squeeze every last bit of air from your lungs!
Let me hear you roar like a beast!”
“Open your eyes wide and hunt for openings!”
“Glare them down!
Fire your killing intent straight out of your pupils!”
All of it was noise.
Every single one of these so-called hot-blooded speeches was pure interference.
And this overtime, being spectated like a circus clown, was an outright catastrophe from start to finish.
Nanami Kento abandoned all composure and patience.
He tore the dark-patterned tie from his collar.
Both hands moved fast, wrapping the length of fabric tight around the back of his right hand, the one gripping the blade.
He knotted it with deliberate, killing-intent-laden force.
The moment he entered his Overtime binding state, the Cursed Energy inside him surged.
This wretched extra shift was finally about to get its reckoning.
“All of you — crawl back to the trash heap.”
A low, muffled roar rolled from Nanami Kento’s throat.
He raised his cleaver and brought it down onto the sand beneath his feet with everything he had.
The sand surface locked by the Ratio Technique disintegrated layer by layer.
Enormous amounts of sand and gravel, forcibly infused with compressed Cursed Energy, became thousands of micro-buckshot and tore outward in a wide fan, engulfing every killer within a 10-meter radius.
A dense chorus of piercing screams filled the beach.
While the enemy was still writhing on the ground, riddled and reeling from the sandblast, Nanami raised his blade and crashed into the crowd.
Wide, sweeping arcs.
No wasted movement.
Haibara, fully berserk, roared and swung his iron fists in every direction.
The two of them alternated cover and pushed forward.
Half a minute later, every last attacker on the beach was done.
Nanami Kento bent over with both hands on his knees, breathing hard.
Salty sweat dripped from his bangs and soaked through his tailored shirt entirely.
He wasn’t particularly tired.
The damage was all internal, inflicted entirely by the man sitting on that rock, pointing and shouting.
Toji kicked the rubble aside and dropped down from the high platform.
Hands clasped behind his back, he ambled over with an unhurried, swaggering stride.
He watched Haibara Yu, still swinging his fists and savoring the afterglow, and nodded several times.
Then he shifted his gaze to the blond youth steadying his breathing.
“Clean and decisive.”
Toji spread his arms and stepped forward.
His hands, the size of palm fronds, landed squarely on both their backs.
Haibara Yu puffed out his chest and grinned with open pride.
The completely off-guard Nanami Kento was sent stumbling forward.
The force was horrifying.
He was certain his shoulder blades had cracked.
“Barely a fraction of the youthful flair I had back in my day.
One percent, maybe.”
He raised a thumb in approval.
Moonlight gleamed off two rows of perfectly aligned, dazzlingly white teeth.
“Now then, to celebrate this thoroughly satisfying victory, and to carve the battle instincts you just grasped into your very bones!”
“Special training begins!”
Toji raised one arm and pointed straight down the dark, sprawling coastline.
His booming, unpolished voice delivered the most despairing verdict of the entire Okinawa trip.
“Run a hundred laps around the beach with me!”
“Nobody stops until you’re foaming at the mouth!”
“Move it!
Youths!”
Still braced over his knees, Nanami Kento slowly lifted his head.
His brain processed the words.
Then it crashed completely.
Behind those goggles, the eyes that usually carried a cool, detached calm had lost every trace of living light.
His pupils went dull and unfocused, rolling back to expose vast expanses of white.
A dead fish on a market-stall chopping board.
Scales already scraped clean.
He looked over at Gojo Satoru, who had laughed himself onto the ground nearby.
His entire being went numb.
Social death.
Complete and total social death.
Just kill me.
Don’t hesitate.
Now.
➤ Next: The Death of Riko Amanai?
Jujutsu Kaisen