The exchange tournament

Hiro was lounging in the common room, his eyes glued to the television screen as he watched his favorite show. Panda and Inumaki sat beside him, their attention equally captivated by the flickering images. The room was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, a comfortable atmosphere that spoke of the close bond between the three friends.

Suddenly, Hiro's expression contorted into a grimace, his hand flying to his stomach as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. "Damn it," he groaned, his voice strained with discomfort. "Something I ate must have disagreed with me."

Panda, his brow furrowing in concern, turned to Hiro. "What did you have for lunch?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Hiro, his face pale and sweaty, replied, "I had a hot dog earlier, before coming back to school."

Panda, his expression one of mild disapproval, said, "You know what they say about eating street food."

Inumaki, his voice soft and monotone, added, "Salmon."

Hiro, his patience wearing thin, snapped, "Shut up, both of you."

As the words left his lips, Hiro suddenly collapsed to the floor, his body curling in on itself as another wave of pain washed over him. "Ah, it hurts so bad," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Someone, call for help."

Hiro dragged himself across the floor, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated, until he reached the trash can in the corner of the room. With a violent heave, he emptied the contents of his stomach into the receptacle, the sound of his retching filling the air.

Minutes passed, each one feeling like an eternity to the suffering Hiro. Finally, the door to the common room swung open, and Fushiguro stepped inside, his expression one of mild annoyance.

Hiro, his eyes narrowing in irritation, said, "Why the hell did you bring him?"

Fushiguro, his voice dripping with sarcasm, replied, "I'm asking myself the same question."

Panda, his expression sheepish, said, "Well, you didn't specify who we should bring."

Hiro, his voice rising in anger, snapped, "I meant Shoko, you stupid animal."

A few more minutes passed, and finally, Shoko arrived, her presence a welcome relief to the ailing Hiro. She knelt beside him, her hand pressing gently against his forehead as she took his temperature.

"It seems like you've caught some kind of infection," Shoko said, her voice calm and reassuring. "But don't worry, with some medication and rest, you should be back to normal in no time."

Hiro, his voice weak and pitiful, asked, "Am I going to die?"

Shoko, a small smile playing on her lips, replied, "Of course not, silly. You'll be just fine."

She stood up, her gaze sweeping over the assembled group of friends. "Now, who can carry him to his room?"

Panda, his expression one of feigned innocence, said, "Don't look at me, I'm just a panda."

Inumaki, his voice soft and monotone, added, "Seaweed," which everyone knew meant he didn't have the strength to carry Hiro.

Fushiguro, his nose wrinkling in disgust, said, "No way. What if he throws up on me?"

Hiro, his voice filled with desperation, called out, "Someone call Gojo."

Minutes later, Gojo arrived, his expression one of barely contained amusement as he watched Hiro writhing on the floor. He chuckled, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo.

"What's the matter?" Gojo asked, his voice filled with mock concern. "The mighty Hiro can't handle a little stomachache?"

Hiro, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and frustration, snapped, "Damn it, just carry me to my bed already."

Gojo, his grin widening, replied, "No way. What if you throw up on me?"

Hiro, his eyes wide with disbelief, exclaimed, "So you're just going to leave me lying here on the floor?!"

Gojo, his expression one of feigned thoughtfulness, said, "Probably."

Shoko, her patience wearing thin, said, "Enough fooling around. Someone needs to carry him to his room."

Silence fell over the group, each one of them suddenly finding something incredibly interesting to look at on the floor or the ceiling.

Hiro, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and desperation, said, "I'm going to kill all of you."

Gojo, his expression brightening with sudden inspiration, said, "Oh, I know! Let's let his owner take care of him."

Minutes later, Maki arrived, her expression one of resigned exasperation as she took in the sight of Hiro lying on the floor. With a heavy sigh, she bent down and scooped him up into her arms, her strength belying her slender frame.

Hiro, his face flushing with embarrassment, mumbled, "This is so humiliating."

Maki, a small smile playing on her lips, replied, "What are you talking about? You love this."

Gojo, his grin widening, pulled out his phone once more and snapped a few more photos, much to Hiro's chagrin.

Maki carried Hiro down the hallway, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor. She made her way to his dormitory, the familiar scent of his room filling her nostrils as she pushed open the door.

With a gentleness that belied her strength, Maki laid Hiro down on his bed, her hands smoothing the covers over his fevered body. Hiro, his eyes fluttering closed, mumbled a soft thanks, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own labored breathing.

Maki, her expression softening with concern, brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Get some rest," she said, her voice filled with a tenderness that few others ever heard. "I'll check on you later."

As she turned to leave, Hiro's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Stay," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and fever. "Please."

Maki, her heart melting at the vulnerability in his voice, nodded. She climbed into the bed beside him, her body molding itself to his as she wrapped her arms around his shivering form.

Together, they lay there, the sound of Hiro's labored breathing filling the room. Maki held him close, her presence a comfort and a balm to his aching body and soul.

And as Hiro drifted off to sleep, his mind hazy with fever and pain, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and love for the woman beside him. Maki, his rock, his anchor, his partner in all things.

With her by his side, Hiro knew that he could face anything, even the worst stomach bug in the world. Because together, they were unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with.

And as the sun began to set outside the window, casting the room in a warm, golden glow, Hiro and Maki slept, their bodies intertwined, their hearts beating as one.

The next morning, Hiro was awoken by the sound of rustling and movement in his room. He slowly opened his eyes, the remnants of his fever and stomach pain still lingering in his body. As his vision cleared, he saw Maki standing in front of the mirror, buttoning up her uniform shirt and adjusting her glasses.

She turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Finally awake, sleepyhead?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Do you think you'll be able to participate in the exchange event today?"

Hiro groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he said, his voice still rough with sleep and sickness, "but I don't think I have the energy."

Maki sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I was afraid you might say that," she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

But then, a sudden idea flashed through her mind, and a wicked grin spread across her face. "You know," she said, her voice dropping to a low, seductive purr, "I read something interesting online. Something that might help you feel better."

Hiro's eyebrows shot up, his interest piqued despite his weakened state. "Oh?" he said, his voice filled with curiosity. "And what might that be? I hope it's not panda meat."

Maki chuckled, shaking her head as she walked towards him, her fingers deftly unbuttoning her sweater and shirt. "No, nothing like that," she said, her voice filled with a playful warmth.

She reached out and tugged the covers off of Hiro's body, her hands sliding down his chest and stomach, coming to rest on the waistband of his pants. Hiro's eyes widened as Maki began to press soft, teasing kisses along his inner thigh, her breath hot against his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice strained with a mixture of surprise and arousal.

Maki looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just a little ritual to help you feel better," she said, her voice low and husky.

With deft fingers, she unzipped his pants and tugged them down, freeing his already half-hard member from its confines. Maki's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, so you were already in the mood, huh?" she teased, her fingers wrapping around his shaft and stroking it gently.

Hiro, his face flushing with embarrassment, mumbled, "Well, I am a man, after all."

Maki grinned, leaning down and taking him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. Hiro gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily as pleasure coursed through his body, temporarily erasing the pain and discomfort of his sickness.

His fingers tangled in Maki's hair, guiding her movements as she bobbed up and down, her mouth warm and wet around him. Maki could feel him growing harder with each passing second, his member twitching and throbbing against her tongue.

She pulled back, releasing him from her mouth with a soft pop. Her hand continued to stroke him, her fingers teasing the sensitive underside of his shaft. "Feeling better?" she asked, her voice filled with a knowing smugness.

Hiro, his breathing ragged and uneven, managed to gasp out, "I didn't say you could stop."

Maki laughed, low and throaty, before taking him into her mouth once more. This time, her movements were faster, more intense, her head bobbing up and down as she took him deeper and deeper.

Hiro's fingers tightened in her hair, his hips thrusting forward as he chased his release. Maki could feel him getting close, his member pulsing and twitching against her tongue.

With a final, muffled groan, Hiro came, his seed spilling into Maki's mouth and down her throat. She swallowed it down, her tongue lapping at his sensitive flesh, cleaning him thoroughly.

When she was finished, she sat back on her heels, a self-satisfied grin on her face. "That was quite a lot," she said, her voice filled with a teasing warmth. "And here I thought you were sick."

Hiro, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, could only nod weakly. Maki stood up, tucking him back into his pants and zipping him up with a final, affectionate pat.

"Well, I hope that helped you feel better," she said, her voice filled with a brisk efficiency. "Now, come on. We have a tournament to win."

Hiro groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "I don't know why," he said, his voice filled with a playful whine, "but now I feel even more tired."

Maki rolled her eyes, reaching out to tug him up by the arm. "Don't be such a baby," she said, her voice filled with a fond exasperation. "Let's go."

Hiro sighed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He began to dress, pulling on his uniform with slow, sluggish movements. As he did so, he couldn't help but marvel at the woman beside him, at the depth of her love and devotion.

Maki was his rock, his anchor, his partner in all things. She was the one who picked him up when he was down, who pushed him to be better, to be stronger. And even in moments like these, when he was at his weakest and most vulnerable, she was there for him, ready to do whatever it took to help him heal.

As they made their way out of the room and towards the tournament grounds, Hiro couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and love swelling in his chest. He reached out, taking Maki's hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," he said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "For everything."

Maki looked over at him, her expression softening with affection. "Anytime," she said, her voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "That's what partners are for."

And as they stepped out into the bright sunlight, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, Hiro knew that with Maki by his side, he could overcome anything. Because together, they were unbreakable, a force to be reckoned with.

Hiro and Maki arrived at the meeting point, where Panda, Inumaki, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki were already waiting. Panda, his eyes widening in surprise, said, "Well, well, looks like someone's feeling better."

But as he took a closer look at Hiro's face, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the sickly pallor of his skin. "Oh, well," Panda amended, his voice filled with a hint of concern, "at least better than yesterday."

Maki, her brow furrowing in worry, turned to Hiro. "Hey, if you're still feeling this bad, maybe you should go back to bed."

Hiro, his jaw set in a stubborn line, shook his head. "No way," he said, his voice filled with a forced bravado. "I'm already here, anyway."

Maki sighed, reaching out to adjust the collar of Hiro's shirt. "If you start feeling worse, just abandon the tournament, okay?" she said, her voice soft but firm.

Kugisaki, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, said, "It seems like this idiot enjoys being treated like a little kid. First Shoko, and now Maki."

Maki, her expression softening, replied, "Give him a break. He's sick, after all."

Fushiguro, his arms crossed over his chest, muttered, "To me, it just looks like he's trying to get attention."

Hiro, his eyes flashing with determination, declared, "When I win this tournament, I want you all to apologize to me."

Maki, her gaze shifting to the stairs, said, "Hey, they're here."

The students from Kyoto climbed the stairs, their faces set in expressions of smug confidence. Mai Zenin, her voice dripping with disdain, called out, "Ready to be humiliated, Tokyo losers?"

Miwa, the blue-haired girl, turned to Mai, her expression one of mild disapproval. "Mai, don't be rude," she chided, her voice soft but firm.

Momo, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Hiro, asked, "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

Hiro, his body sagging with exhaustion, let himself fall against Momo's shoulder. "Yeah," he mumbled, his voice weak and pitiful.

Momo, her expression softening with concern, reached up to stroke Hiro's hair. "This idiot likes to act like a child when he's sick," she said, her voice filled with a fond exasperation.

Maki, her eyebrow arching in surprise, said, "Well, he seemed fine just a few minutes ago."

Hiro, his eyes widening in panic, hissed, "Don't say that out loud!"

Mechamaru, a robotic figure standing among the Kyoto students, said, "So, this is the famous cousin of Momo, the first-grade sorcerer, Hiro Miller."

Kamo, his eyes glinting with anticipation, added, "This year is going to be really interesting."

Aoi Todo, his expression one of mild disappointment, said, "Too bad Okkotsu isn't here."

Hiro, his lips curling into a sneer, retorted, "I don't know what you're bragging about, gorilla. You're more boring to fight than a turtle."

Momo, her eyebrow arching in surprise, said, "I thought you were dying to fight with Todo."

Hiro, his chin lifting in a show of arrogance, replied, "That gorilla is in a league far below mine."

Aoi, his eyes narrowing in challenge, said, "We'll see about that."

Mai, her gaze drifting to Hiro's sickly form, reached out and caressed his chin, her voice low and seductive. "What's wrong, handsome? Is Maki not treating you well? Because if that's the case, you should come with me instead."

Maki, her eyes flashing with anger, snapped, "Hey, hands off!"

Hiro, gently pushing Mai's hand away, said, "Sorry, I'm faithful... and I'm scared of her."

Maki, a satisfied smile spreading across her face, nodded in approval.

Hiro, his attention shifting to Mechamaru, asked, "And what are you supposed to be? A cosplayer?"

Mechamaru, his robotic voice filled with disdain, replied, "I'm a puppet. My real body is far away from here."

Hiro, his lips twisting into a mocking grin, said, "Eh? I see. You're afraid to face me."

Mechamaru, his voice dripping with condescension, retorted, "You talk a lot of big words for a mere second-year student."

Hiro, his voice filled with a childish sing-song, mimicked Mechamaru's words. "I can't wait to hear you say the same thing when I rip off your arm."

He reached out and placed his hand on Miwa's shoulder, his voice filled with a false sweetness. "Right, girl? I'm going to kick that idiot's ass."

Mechamaru, his robotic body shaking with rage, snarled, "Get your hand off her."

Hiro, his eyes widening in mock surprise, said, "Eh? Are you jealous? Don't worry, I have a girlfriend. But I bet this girl feels lucky to be touched by someone like me... someone real."

Mechamaru, his anger reaching a boiling point, extended his hand, ready to strike. Miwa, her voice filled with concern, grabbed his arm. "Stop, Mechamaru. It's not necessary."

Hiro, a wicked grin spreading across his face, taunted, "Ooh, how scary."

Maki, her patience wearing thin, smacked Hiro on the back of the head. "You talk a lot for an idiot with diarrhea," she said, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and affection.

Suddenly, Utahime arrived, her voice filled with a brisk efficiency. "Alright, Kyoto students, save that energy for the tournament. And where's the idiot?"

Hiro, his hand raising in a mock salute, said, "Here I am!" (I don't think she's talking about me, he thought to himself.)

Panda, his expression one of mild confusion, said, "He's not here yet."

Maki, her voice filled with annoyance, added, "That blindfolded idiot is always late."

Fushiguro, his eyebrow arching in surprise, said, "She never said she was talking about Gojo-sensei."

Just then, Gojo appeared, pushing a cart with a large box on top. "Sorry for the delay," he said, his voice filled with his usual cheerful nonchalance. "I brought souvenirs for everyone from a particular village."

He began to hand out small, pink dolls to the students, his smile never wavering. When he reached Utahime, he paused, his expression turning mischievous. "I didn't bring anything for you, Utahime."

Utahime, her face turning red with anger, shouted, "I DIDN'T WANT ANYTHING ANYWAY!"

Gojo, turning to the Tokyo students, said, "And for you, I brought this."

He gestured to the box, which opened to reveal a familiar figure. Itadori Yuji, his face split in a wide grin, waved at his friends. "Hey, OPP!"

The Tokyo students stood in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of shock and discomfort. Itadori, his smile faltering slightly, thought to himself, "They don't look surprised at all."

Hiro, unable to contain himself any longer, burst out laughing. "He really did it," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of amazement and amusement.

Gojo, his smile widening, turned to the Kyoto students. "Well, students of Kyoto, this is the vessel of Sukuna."

Gakuganji, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation, thought to himself, "The vessel of Sukuna is still alive? How?"

As the two groups of students stood facing each other, the tension in the air was palpable. The tournament was about to begin, and with the arrival of Itadori, the stakes had never been higher.

But for Hiro, none of that mattered at the moment. All he could focus on was the churning in his gut and the pounding in his head, the lingering remnants of his sickness. He knew he would have to push through, to fight with everything he had, if he wanted to prove himself to his friends and rivals.

The Tokyo students gathered in a small room near the entrance, their faces set with determination as they prepared for the upcoming tournament. Maki, her expression thoughtful, broke the silence. "So, are we going to make any changes to the plan? I mean, considering that Itadori turned out to be alive."

Itadori, his eyes widening in surprise, asked, "Wait, we're all participating? Aren't there more of us?"

Hiro, a cocky grin spreading across his face, said, "Well, theoretically, it's balanced because you guys are first-years. Though, of course, I could single-handedly wipe the floor with Kyoto."

Panda, his expression serious, explained, "The main plan was for Hiro to defeat Todo, while the rest of us hunt down the curse. Once Hiro takes down Todo, he'll handle the other students, like a hunting dog of sorts."

Hiro, his nose wrinkling in distaste, said, "Please don't compare me to an animal."

Maki, her gaze drifting to Hiro's sickly form, said, "But considering that the blond idiot has diarrhea, it might be best not to overexert him. He should conserve his energy in case things get rough."

Hiro, his expression turning serious, suggested, "In that case, let Itadori handle Todo."

Maki, her eyebrow arching in surprise, asked, "Are you sure? Todo can be a lot to handle."

Hiro, his confidence unwavering, replied, "Don't worry. Itadori trained with ME a bit over the past two months. He's strong."

Kugisaki, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, turned to Hiro. "So, you knew he was alive? Why didn't you say anything, you blond idiot?"

Hiro, his shoulders slumping in exasperation, muttered, "Why does everyone keep calling me an idiot?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "Alright, here's the plan. Itadori, you go after Todo. When you defeat him, I'll step in. Meanwhile, the rest of you focus on hunting down the curse. Everyone in agreement?"

The group nodded, their expressions set with determination. Hiro clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. "Great! Let's get to work."

They exited the room, making their way towards the forest situated within the school grounds. Kugisaki, her voice filled with enthusiasm, shouted, "Let's give Kyoto a beating... for Maki!"

Maki, her face flushing with embarrassment, said, "Hey, cut that out."

Panda, his eyes sparkling with mischief, chimed in, "Yeah, for Maki!"

Hiro, not one to be left out, yelled, "FOR MAKI!"

Maki, her patience wearing thin, grumbled, "I told you guys to stop that."

Itadori, his excitement getting the better of him, rushed to the front of the group. "Alright! Let's do this!" he exclaimed, his fist pumping the air.

Hiro, not one to be outdone, kicked Itadori in the back of the head. "Hey, I'm the one leading the way," he said, his voice filled with a childish petulance.

On the other side of the forest, in a separate room, Gakuganji stood before the Kyoto students, his expression grave. "I want you all to focus on one task: eliminating the vessel of Sukuna."

Momo, her thoughts troubled, pondered, "I really don't want to do this."

Mai, her brow furrowing in confusion, asked, "Is it even possible to eliminate him? There must be a reason he's still alive."

Kamo, his voice filled with a clinical detachment, explained, "To eliminate him, we need to finish him off with cursed energy."

Momo, her voice hesitant, said, "Let's say we do kill him. What happens next? Hiro won't take it lying down. In fact, I doubt we'll even be able to get close to Itadori."

Mechamaru, his robotic voice dripping with disdain, said, "He's just a spoiled brat. He's only a first-grade sorcerer because of his family's influence. No offense, Momo."

Momo, her expression hardening, replied, "You're underestimating him."

Todo, his arms crossed over his broad chest, added, "He's strong, but he's not that big of a deal."

Momo, her patience wearing thin, said, "Like I've been telling you, Hiro is strong. Very strong. He may seem like a hopeless idiot, but he's smarter than any of us."

She turned to Mechamaru, her eyes narrowing. "Do you know why he provoked you? He wanted to see if you had emotions, if a human was really controlling you from a distance. Now he knows a lot about you."

She then shifted her gaze to Todo, her voice filled with a quiet intensity. "And he didn't bother with you because he doesn't even consider you a threat."

Todo, his eyebrow arching in surprise. Momo add, "He's my cousin, and I know him better than even Maki does. If we underestimate him, we'll end up losing."

Gakuganji, his voice stern and unyielding, interjected, "Enough. Hiro Miller must understand that any sorcerer can die in this tournament. If he can't accept that, then he will face penalties."

Momo, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and frustration, said, "You really don't know how far he's willing to go."

Gakuganji, his expression unchanging, replied, "Just follow orders, young lady."

Momo sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She knew that arguing with Gakuganji was a lost cause, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were making a grave mistake.

As the Kyoto students filed out of the room, Momo's mind raced with possibilities and concerns. She knew her cousin better than anyone, knew the depths of his power and the lengths he would go to protect those he cared about.

And as much as she loved him, as much as she wanted to believe in his goodness, she couldn't help but fear for what the future might hold. Because if Hiro Miller was pushed too far, if he was forced to face the loss of someone he loved... there was no telling what he might do.

Momo shook her head, trying to push those dark thoughts from her mind. She had to focus on the task at hand, on the tournament that lay ahead. But even as she stepped out into the bright sunlight, the weight of her worries hung heavy on her shoulders.

In one of the control rooms, Gojo, Utahime, Mei Mei, Gakuganji, and Yaga sat, ready to watch the tournament through the cameras and Mei Mei's crows. Shoko entered and took a seat, her presence drawing the attention of the others.

Utahime, a warm smile spreading across her face, said, "Ah, Shoko! It's great to have you here."

Gojo, his eyebrow arching in surprise, remarked, "It's rare for you to leave your cave. What brings you here?"

Shoko, her expression softening with affection, replied, "I just came to support my boy."

Gojo, a teasing grin on his face, said, "You spoil him too much."

Utahime, her curiosity piqued, asked, "Who are you talking about?"

Gojo, his tone filled with a hint of exasperation, answered, "Hiro. He's a first-class arrogant brat."

Utahime, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, muttered, "Reminds me of a certain blindfolded idiot."

Gakuganji, his expression grave, warned, "If that Hiro doesn't take things seriously, he could get hurt."

Gojo, waving his hand dismissively, said, "Hiro is very strong, much stronger than the last time you saw him. Maybe even twice as strong. The only one in his generation who can rival him is Okkotsu."

Gakuganji, his eyes widening in surprise, asked, "Then why haven't you reported this to the higher-ups? The fact that you have someone so strong among your students?"

Gojo, a mischievous laugh escaping his lips, replied, "Because that would be boring."

He reached for the microphone and announced over the loudspeakers, "ALRIGHT, GUYS! ARE YOU READY TO BEGIN?"

Itadori and Hiro were the only ones who seemed excited, their voices ringing out in response.

Gojo, his grin widening, continued, "Remember, at the end of the day, you're all comrades, so get along. Oh, and Hiro... try not to throw up. BEGIN!"

As the Tokyo students began to make their way into the forest, Hiro, his voice filled with a forced casualness, said, "Okay, let's stick to the plan. I need to go that way."

They split up, each heading in a different direction. Hiro, his body crackling with electricity, leaped from tree to tree, his movements a blur of speed and agility. Once he was deep enough into the forest, he came to a stop, a satisfied smile on his face.

"That should do it," he said, his voice filled with a smug confidence.

Suddenly, he sensed a presence behind him. Hiro, his grin widening, said, "I knew you'd come, Mechamaru. Couldn't stand me making fun of you?"

Mechamaru, his robotic voice dripping with disdain, replied, "I'm just here to put spoiled brats like you in your place."

Hiro, his eyes sparkling with mischief, taunted, "Ooh, I'm so scared."

Mechamaru, his anger mounting, said, "You don't know what it's like to have nothing. You were born with everything and think you have the right to mock others."

Hiro, his head tilting to the side in a show of curiosity, asked, "For someone without a body, you talk a lot. That's how it is, right? I bet your real body can't walk. You must have some kind of heavenly restriction, like Maki, but not as cool."

Mechamaru, his robotic fists clenching, said, "It seems you know a lot, Hiro Miller."

Hiro, a cocky grin spreading across his face, replied, "I'm a genius."

Mechamaru, shifting into a fighting stance, declared, "Alright then, let's dance."

Hiro, a yawn escaping his lips, said, "This won't even take me 10 seconds."

Back in the control room, Shoko's eyes were glued to the screen, her heart racing as she watched Hiro face off against Mechamaru. She knew he was strong, knew he had trained hard under Gojo's guidance, but she couldn't help but worry.

"Be careful, my boy," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the monitors.

Gojo, sensing her concern, reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Shoko," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. "Hiro's got this. He's not the same kid he was when he first arrived here."

Shoko, her eyes never leaving the screen, nodded. "I know," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and fear. "But I can't help but worry. He's still so young, and he's already seen so much pain and suffering."

Gojo, his expression turning serious, replied, "That's the life of a jujutsu sorcerer. We all have to face our demons, both literal and figurative. But Hiro... he's got a strength inside him that most people can only dream of. He'll make it through this, and he'll come out even stronger on the other side."

Shoko, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, said, "I hope you're right, Satoru. I really do."

As Shoko's eyes returned to the screen, she felt her breath catch in her throat, a gasp of horror escaping her lips. There, in the middle of the forest clearing, lay Mechamaru, his robotic form broken and still. His arms, torn from their sockets, lay scattered on the ground, sparks flickering from the exposed wires.

And standing over him, a look of casual indifference on his face, was Hiro.

The blond sorcerer whistled a jaunty tune, his foot tapping out a rhythm on Mechamaru's shattered chestplate. "Hey, Mechamaru," he called out, his voice filled with a mocking sweetness. "If I crush your head, you won't die, right? I mean, you're just a puppet, after all."

Mechamaru, his voice filled with static and glitching with every word, spat back, "How dare you? How dare you mock me like this? You've already won, you bastard. Why are you still doing this?"

Hiro's smile vanished, his eyes turning cold and hard. "Because I don't like it when people make fun of me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you, my dear Mechamaru, have been doing an awful lot of that lately."

With a sudden, violent motion, Hiro brought his foot down on Mechamaru's head, the metal crunching and shattering beneath his heel. The robot's body twitched and spasmed, sparks flying from the gaping wounds, before finally falling still.

Hiro kicked the severed arms aside, a look of disgust on his face as he wiped his hands on his pants. "Well, that was disappointing," he said, his voice filled with a casual disdain. "I was hoping for more of a challenge."

He looked around, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. "So, who's next?" he called out, his voice ringing through the forest. "Come on, don't be shy! I promise I'll go easy on you!"

In the control room, the reactions to Hiro's brutal victory were mixed. Gojo, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold, leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I told you he was strong," he said, his voice filled with a quiet satisfaction. "Hiro's not the kind of guy who goes down easily."

Utahime, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror, shook her head in disbelief. "That was... that was too much," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He didn't need to go that far. Mechamaru was already defeated."

Mei Mei, her expression one of mild interest, shrugged her shoulders. "Well, at least he's efficient," she said, her voice filled with a pragmatic detachment. "In a real battle, there's no such thing as going too far."

Gakuganji, his brow furrowed in concern, turned to Yaga. "Principal, are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice filled with a hint of doubt. "Letting someone like Hiro participate in the tournament... it seems risky."

Yaga, his expression thoughtful, stroked his beard. "Hiro may be rough around the edges," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence, "but he's a valuable asset to our school. We just need to make sure he understands the importance of restraint."

Shoko, her hands trembling slightly, couldn't take her eyes off the screen. She had known that Hiro was strong, had seen the power he possessed firsthand. But to see him so casually destroy another sorcerer, even a puppet like Mechamaru... it sent a chill down her spine.

Shoko turned to Gojo, her eyes wide with worry. "Satoru," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Don't you think Hiro was a bit... ruthless just now? It's not like him to be so cruel."

Gojo, his expression unreadable behind his blindfold, shrugged. "It's not his usual style, sure," he said, his voice filled with a casual nonchalance. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it. Mechamaru's comments probably just got under his skin, that's all."

Mei Mei, her eyes glinting with interest, leaned forward. "You know," she said, her voice filled with a hint of admiration, "I'd say Hiro's skills are on par with Nanami's at this point."

Gojo laughed, shaking his head. "No, no," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. "Hiro's even stronger than Kusakabe, believe it or not. The kid's got potential, that's for sure."

Back in the forest, Momo descended from the sky on her broom, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight of Mechamaru's destroyed form.

"Geez, Hiro," she said, her voice filled with a mix of awe and concern. "You really did a number on him, huh?"

Hiro grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, if it isn't my favorite cousin," he said, his voice filled with a playful arrogance. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Momo rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I just wanted to check in on you," she said, her voice filled with a fond exasperation. "See how your stomach was holding up."

Hiro's grin widened, and he patted his belly. "Fit as a fiddle," he said, his voice filled with a cocky assurance. "Takes more than a little stomach bug to keep me down."

Momo's expression turned serious, and she reached out to place a hand on Hiro's shoulder. "Listen, Hiro," she said, her voice filled with a quiet urgency. "I know you're strong, and I know you want to win. But maybe try to go a little easier on the others, okay? No need to be quite so... brutal."

Hiro's smile faded, and he looked away, his jaw clenching. "They started it," he muttered, his voice filled with a childish petulance. "Mechamaru was asking for it, the way he was talking."

Momo sighed, giving Hiro's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know," she said, her voice filled with a quiet understanding. "But you're better than that, Hiro. You don't need to stoop to their level."

Hiro was silent for a moment, his eyes distant and thoughtful. Finally, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right," he said, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "I'll try to be better. For you, Momo."

Momo's eyes softened, and she pulled Hiro into a tight hug. "I know you will," she whispered, her voice filled with a fierce pride. "You're a good person, Hiro. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

As they pulled apart, Momo's expression turned mischievous. "Now, go out there and show them what you're made of," she said, her voice filled with a playful challenge. "Just try not to break too many bones in the process."

Hiro laughed, his eyes sparkling with a renewed energy. "No promises," he said, his voice filled with a cocky assurance. "But I'll do my best."

With that, he turned and sprinted off into the forest, his body crackling with electricity as he leaped from tree to tree. Momo watched him go, her heart swelling with a fierce love and pride.