The chase tore through the courtyard like a storm.
Students scattered.
Chairs overturned.
One speaker toppled and screamed feedback into the morning.
Utahime was relentless.
Every step sharper than the last.
Every swing closer.
Takeru kept moving.
Dodging.
Sliding.
Barely keeping ahead.
"…You're not funny anymore!" Utahime snapped.
"…Debatable!" Takeru called back.
He skidded to a stop.
Turned.
Planted his feet.
"…Alright."
A breath.
A shift.
The air changed.
Even the ones laughing stopped.
Utahime lunged again—
fist drawn back—
aim locked—
Takeru moved.
A spin—
fast—
tight—
controlled—
His leg arced outward—
TORNADO KICK.
Impact cracked through the air.
Utahime's momentum broke—
her stance shattered—
Before she could recover—
Takeru was already above her.
A sharp rise.
A drop.
Precision.
AXE KICK.
THUD.
She hit the ground again.
Not injured.
Just… defeated.
For now.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Takeru landed clean.
Straightened.
Brushed his shoulder once like dust mattered.
Then—
with full confidence—
"…Stylish…"
A pause.
"…and sexy."
Silence.
Then—
Both Gojos erupted.
"THAT'S MY BROTHER!"
"THAT'S OUR STYLE!"
They pointed at him like proud coaches witnessing a perfect play.
Hakari whistled.
"…That was clean."
Kirara nodded once.
"…I'll give him that."
Ryu grinned.
"…Excellent flavor."
Kashimo smirked.
"…Finally."
Higuruma adjusted his tie.
"…Excessive, but effective."
Nanami exhaled.
"…At least it ended decisively."
Takaba wiped tears from laughing.
"…The pose! The line! Cinema!"
Shoko took a sip of coffee.
"…He practiced that."
On the ground—
Utahime slowly pushed herself up.
Hair a mess.
Clothes scuffed.
Patience gone.
"…I…"
She stood fully.
"…am not done."
Takeru immediately took three steps back.
"…Understood."
Gojo shouted from behind him:
"…RUN IT BACK!"
Utahime turned.
"…YOU TOO."
Gojo pointed at Takeru.
"…He started it!"
"…You encouraged it!"
"…Fair."
And just like that—
the tension snapped back into chaos.
Because even when fights ended—
they didn't really end here.