Ieiri Shoko's cold words, "Thanks to you," were like a poisoned needle, precisely piercing the deepest part of Toho Hiroshi's heart, causing the agonizing pain and fury churning within him due to his sworn friend's fall to freeze for a split second.
He lay on the operating table, his Rinnegan staring at the pale halo on the ceiling, as if he could pierce through layers of obstacles to see the void of the abyss that had swallowed Gojo Satoru.
Silence spread through the medical room, with only the suppressed breathing of the two and the cold, subtle clinking of the instruments in Shoko's hands.
A few seconds later, Toho Hiroshi braced his arms and slowly sat up.
Every muscle and every bone in his body was protesting and wailing; the erosive damage caused by Tengen's "Divine Fall" was still throbbing with pain, and the efficiency of his Reverse Cursed Technique was far from recovered enough to fully suppress it.
Yet he still sat up, his movements stable and resolute.
He turned to Shoko, and in those Rinnegan eyes, there was no longer the usual indifference or calculation, but rather a deep, bottomless sorrow and a determination that was almost burning.
"Shoko."
His voice was a bit hoarse, yet exceptionally clear, "I'm sorry."
This apology was not because he might be about to face death, but for dragging Gojo Satoru and all of them into this desperate battlefield, ultimately leading to an irreparable loss.
Ieiri Shoko's movements of wiping the instruments stopped; she did not look at Toho Hiroshi, just keeping her head lowered, the hair on her forehead falling down to cover her expression.
"But,"
Toho Hiroshi continued, his tone resolute and ironclad, carrying an unquestionable power, "I promise you, I will never let this all end in tragedy."
"Satoru's will, Geto's regrets, everyone's sacrifices—they will never be in vain."
"I will end this all, in my own way."
As he spoke, he stepped barefoot onto the cold floor, his body swaying slightly, but he immediately steadied himself.
Cursed Energy was struggling to re-gather within his body; although he was far from recovered to his peak, the aura belonging to a powerhouse had already returned.
He took a step and walked out of the medical room, his goal clear—that final battlefield which had already become ruins.
Just as his foot was about to step over the threshold,
hurried footsteps came from behind.
The next moment, a body carrying the scent of disinfectant and a faint warmth suddenly hugged him from behind.
It was Ieiri Shoko.
Her arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him very tightly, so tightly that her nails were almost digging into the muscles at his waist.
Her face was buried in the clothes on his back, her body trembling slightly.
Toho Hiroshi's footsteps paused.
"Idiot."
Shoko's muffled voice came from behind him, carrying a suppressed sob,
"One, two... always like this..."
"Promise me."
Her voice carried a trace of unprecedented fragility and pleading, "You must come back alive..."
Toho Hiroshi's body stiffened for a moment; he could feel the warmth of his clothes on his back being slightly dampened.
This woman, who always disguised herself with indifference and fatigue, having witnessed too much death and separation, finally revealed a trace of uncontrollable fear at this moment.
He did not turn back, only raising his hand to gently cover the hands wrapped around his waist, squeezing them firmly.
"Yeah, I promise."
This promise carried a heavier weight than his previous guarantee about the outcome.
He gently broke free from Shoko's embrace, not turning back to see her expression at that moment, and strode out of the medical room.
Just as he passed another hospital bed nearby, his footsteps stopped again.
On the hospital bed lay Kenjaku, who had been squeezed half to death by Susanoo and was only kept alive by Shoko's Reverse Cursed Technique.
The body of Itadori Kaori that he occupied was broken and battered; those eyes that once belonged to his sworn friend were tightly shut, and the traces of the stitches on the forehead appeared exceptionally glaring.
Toho Hiroshi's Rinnegan instantly turned bone-chillingly cold.
All the fury, all the hatred, all the regrets found an outlet for release at this moment.
It was this guy... toying with souls, desecrating the dead, using Geto's body as a tool, and pushing the entire world into the abyss...
He raised his hand, and a jet-black, ominous-looking black rod instantly condensed and formed in his palm.
Without a shred of hesitation, carrying monstrous hatred and a purifying resolve, he fiercely stabbed the black rod down toward Kenjaku's forehead, the nexus where soul and body were forcibly combined!
After all, Toho Hiroshi had wanted to do this for a long time!
"Squelch!"
The black rod precisely sank into the center of the brow.
Kenjaku's body twitched violently, those eyes belonging to Itadori Kaori snapped open, pupils dilated; the last remaining consciousness, amidst endless malice and unwillingness, completely dissipated as the black rod thoroughly disrupted and shattered his soul's origin.
That body, which had carried too much pain and distortion, finally lost all vitality completely, collapsing softly onto the hospital bed, with no more sound.
The culprit who desecrated his friend's eternal rest was, at this point, completely finished.
Toho Hiroshi didn't even glance at the corpse again, as if he had just casually cleaned up a piece of disgusting trash.
Subsequently, his figure turned into a stream of light, rushing out of Jujutsu High, speeding toward that final battlefield that would decide the fate of the world.
Behind him, in the medical room, Ieiri Shoko leaned against the doorframe, slowly sliding down to the floor, burying her face deep into her knees.
In the silent room, there remained only a deeply suppressed sigh, mixed with endless sorrow and a glimmer of faint hope.
Gojo Satoru's death was like a giant boulder thrown into a calm lake; what it stirred up was not ripples, but a destructive tsunami.
That vast Cursed Energy that once belonged to the "strongest," which stabilized the battle situation and people's hearts, suddenly disappeared; everyone on the battlefield, friend or foe, felt a tremor and void in the depths of their souls at that moment.
Behind the remaining barriers of Jujutsu High, Yuta Okkotsu, Yuji Itadori, and Megumi Fushiguro, the three young people closest to Gojo Satoru, almost froze in their bodies at the same time.
The humming katana in Yuta's hand paused in mid-air; he looked at Gojo Satoru's fallen body in disbelief, his pupils contracting violently, while Rika inside him let out an uneasy, restless low moan.
The color drained instantly from Yuji Itadori's face; in those eyes that were always filled with firm will, for the first time, a look of bewilderment and broken light appeared, as if the pillars supporting the world had suddenly collapsed.
Megumi Fushiguro pressed his lips tight, his nails digging deep into his palms, seeping blood, but he could not feel the pain; there was only a bone-chilling coldness rushing from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, almost freezing his soul.
Sorrow needs time to ferment, but extreme sorrow and fury can often ignite everything in an instant.
"Gojo-sensei!!!"
Yuji Itadori let out a beast-like roar, a voice filled with a crying tone, and even more so, a madness that would destroy everything.
His Cursed Energy went berserk in an unprecedented way throughout his body; the black markings under his skin spread like living things, and terrifying power overflowed uncontrollably, shattering the ground beneath his feet into spiderweb-like cracks.
He no longer had any tactics, no longer considered any consequences, like a cannonball fired from a barrel, he rushed fiercely toward the direction of Tengen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 40+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics