Battle

Hiro and Geto clashed in a furious exchange of blows, their bodies a blur of motion. Geto threw punch after punch, his technique precise and ruthless. But Hiro was nimble, his hips swiveling as he dodged each strike with fluid grace.

Spotting an opening, Hiro lunged forward, his fist slamming into Geto's gut in a devastating hook. The air rushed from Geto's lungs in a whoosh, his face contorting in pain.

Hiro grinned, tapping his own jaw in a taunting gesture. "Come on, Geto. I'll give you a free shot. Show me what you've got."

Geto's smile was cold, his eyes glinting with malice. "Confident to a fault, just like Satoru. Let's see if you can back it up."

He surged forward, his arm blurring as he launched a vicious uppercut. His fist crashed into Hiro's chin with brutal force, snapping the boy's head back.

But Hiro just laughed, spitting out a glob of blood. "Is that all? I barely felt it."

Geto's eyes widened, surprise and irritation flickering across his face. But before he could react, Hiro's foot slammed into his chest, sending him flying backwards.

Geto rolled to his feet, his hand dipping into his cursed tool pouch. With a flourish, he drew out a gleaming sansetsukon, the three-sectioned staff whirring to life in his hands.

"I never had Satoru's raw strength," Geto admitted, his voice calm despite the fury in his eyes. "My physical blows lacked the necessary power. But with this..."

He lunged, the sansetsukon a whirlwind of metal. Hiro threw up his arms to block, but the force of the impact was staggering. He felt his bones creak, his muscles scream in protest as he was launched backwards, smashing through a wall in a spray of rubble.

For a moment, all was still. Then, with a groan, Hiro emerged from the debris, his uniform torn and dusty. "Damn," he muttered, eyeing the sansetsukon warily. "A special grade cursed tool. This might be tougher than I thought."

Geto smirked, the staff spinning lazily in his grip. "Having second thoughts, boy? It's not too late to surrender. Pledge your loyalty to me, and I might just let you live."

Hiro barked a laugh, wiping blood from his lip. "Surrender? To you? Not a chance in hell."

He squared his shoulders, lightning beginning to crackle around his fists. The adrenaline was pumping now, dulling the ache of his bruises, the throb of his surely cracked ribs.

"I'm Hiro fucking Miller," he snarled, his eyes blazing with defiance. "I don't bow to anyone, least of all a delusional prick like you."

Hiro lunged forward, trying to get inside Geto's guard, to negate the reach advantage of the sansetsukon. But the cursed staff was a blur of motion, a whirling dervish of steel that kept Hiro at bay.

With a deft twist, Geto brought the staff arcing down, the metal crashing into Hiro's skull with a sickening crunch. Stars exploded across Hiro's vision, pain lancing through his head like a white-hot spike.

But Geto wasn't done. The sansetsukon spun, the other end slamming into Hiro's temple with brutal force. Blood sprayed, bone cracked, and Hiro staggered, his world tilting wildly.

One final, devastating blow sent Hiro flying, his body ragdolling through the air like a discarded puppet. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs in a whoosh of agony.

Through the haze of pain, through no the ringing in his ears and the taste of blood on his tongue, Hiro saw something that made his heart stop.

Maki, lying prone on the shattered concrete. Blood pooled beneath her, her face pale and still.

She was hurt. Badly. And it was all Geto's fault.

Rage surged through Hiro, a white-hot fury that burned away the pain, the fear, the creeping blackness at the edges of his vision.

"Enough games," he snarled, staggering to his feet. Lightning crackled around him, his cursed energy rising in a maelstrom of power. "Let's see how you handle a thunderbolt, you bastard."

With a roar, Hiro drew the lightning into himself, feeling it course through his veins, his muscles, his very bones. The world seemed to slow, each heartbeat an eternity as the energy built to a crescendo inside him.

"Cursed Technique," Hiro growled, his body thrumming with barely contained power. "Lightning Speed."

He moved.

To Geto, it was as if Hiro had simply vanished. One moment, the battered sorcerer was standing across the courtyard, wreathed in crackling energy.

The next, he was right in front of Geto, his fist slamming into the sorcerer's gut with the force of a runaway train.

Geto doubled over, his eyes bulging, blood and spittle flying from his lips. But Hiro wasn't done.

He struck again, and again, his fists a blur of motion. Each blow landed with the crack of breaking bone, the wet squelch of rupturing flesh.

Ribs shattered. Organs ruptured. Geto was tossed about like a rag doll, his body broken and ravaged by the relentless onslaught.

It was over in seconds. Hiro's enhanced speed faded, the world snapping back into focus with dizzying suddenness. He stood over Geto's crumpled form, his chest heaving, his knuckles raw and bleeding.

But even as triumph surged through him, even as the fierce joy of victory set his heart racing... Hiro felt his knees buckle, his vision swimming.

The adrenaline was fading, the rush of battle receding. And in its wake... agony.

His body was a ruin, every nerve screaming, every muscle torn and shredded. The toll of Gojo's training, of pushing himself beyond all limits... it all came crashing down, a tidal wave of pain and exhaustion that threatened to sweep him away.

Geto, incredibly, was staggering to his feet. His face was a mask of blood, his body a broken wreck. But still, madly... he was laughing.

"Impressive," he wheezed, coughing up a gout of crimson. "But not enough."

With a gesture, he summoned forth a tide of curses, a writhing mass of lower grade spirits that swirled around him in a vortex of malevolent energy.

"My turn," he hissed, his eyes blazing with madness. "Cursed Technique: Extreme Curse Manipulation - Tornado."

The swirling curses coalesced, forming a massive, seething cyclone of dark energy. It towered over the courtyard, the wind of its passage tearing at clothes and skin alike.

Hiro's eyes widened, panic clawing at his throat. The attack... it would hit Maki too. She was right in the path of the destructive maelstrom.

He had no choice. Gritting his teeth, Hiro reached deep inside himself, drawing on the last dregs of his power. Lightning crackled around his hand, coalescing into a ball of seething, crackling energy.

"Enhanced Cursed Technique," he ground out, his arm shaking with the effort of containing the raging power. "Azure Lightning."

With a scream of defiance and desperation, Hiro launched the sphere, sending it hurtling towards Geto's oncoming attack.

The two forces met with a cataclysmic boom, a shockwave that shattered windows and cracked the earth. The azure lightning crackled and seethed, pushing against the howling tornado of curses.

For a moment, they seemed evenly matched, the energies straining against each other in a dazzling display of light and shadow.

But then, slowly... Hiro's attack began to grow. It swelled, drawing in ambient electricity from the air, from the shattered power lines and sparking debris.

The azure sphere doubled in size, then tripled, crackling and pulsing with barely contained power. With a final, devastating surge, it overwhelmed Geto's curse tornado, consuming it in a blaze of blinding light.

The resulting explosion was cataclysmic. A dome of azure energy expanded outwards, vaporizing everything it touched. The ground buckled and heaved, great fissures splitting the earth.

At the center of the maelstrom, Geto screamed, his body consumed by the ravenous lightning. His flesh seared, his blood boiled, his bones charred to ash in an instant.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun... it was over.

The light faded, the crackling energy dissipating into the air. In the center of a massive, smoking crater... Geto lay still, his body a charred, unrecognizable husk.

Hiro, his uniform in tatters, his body pushed to the very brink of destruction... stood at the edge of the devastation. Maki was cradled in his arms, shielded from the worst of the blast by his own body.

Slowly, incredibly... Geto stirred. He rose from the ashes like a nightmare given flesh, his skin blackened and cracked, his eyes blazing with an unholy light.

"If not for my curses shielding me," he rasped, his voice a dry, rattling whisper, "I would surely be dead. You continue to impress, Hiro Miller."

Hiro stared at him, horror and disbelief warring in his gut. Geto's curse shield... it had absorbed the worst of the blast, had allowed him to survive what should have been certain annihilation.

And Hiro knew, with a sinking certainty, that if Geto had access to his full complement of curses, to the monstrous spirits he had painstakingly collected over the years...

This fight would have been over before it began. Hiro, for all his power, for all his indomitable will... would have been simply outclassed. A lamb to the slaughter.

But Geto was weakened now, his curse stock greatly diminished. There was still a chance, slim though it might be.

Hiro, his body pushed beyond the brink of endurance, gently lowered Maki to the ground. He took a few faltering steps, each movement an agony, his muscles screaming in protest.

And then, his strength finally giving out, he collapsed to his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming with exhaustion and pain.

"Damn it," he panted, his voice a hoarse whisper. "If you had shown up just a few days later... I would have been rested. I would have wiped the floor with you."

Geto, his face a mask of cruel amusement, let out a bark of laughter. "You are truly impressive, Hiro Miller. A formidable sorcerer, without a doubt."

His smile turned predatory, his eyes glinting with malice. "But this is where your journey ends. A shame, really. Having someone of your caliber on my side... it would have been glorious."

He took a step forward, his hand raised, cursed energy swirling around his fingers. But before he could strike, a new figure burst onto the scene.

Yuta Okkotsu, his face set with determination, placed himself between Hiro and Geto. He glanced back at his fallen comrade, his eyes fierce and protective.

"Hiro," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Leave this to me. You've done enough."

Hiro, despite the pain, despite the bone-deep weariness that threatened to drag him into oblivion, felt a surge of indignation.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?" he snarled, struggling to push himself upright. "I softened him up for you, and now you want to steal my glory?"

Yuta, to his credit, just smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, Hiro. I just want to help."

Hiro stared at him for a long moment, a myriad of emotions warring on his face. Then, slowly, incredibly... he grinned.

With a herculean effort, he hauled himself to his feet. He swayed, his legs threatening to buckle, but through sheer force of will, he remained upright.

Staggering over to Maki's prone form, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. He turned to Yuta, his eyes hard and fierce.

"You better beat him," he growled, his voice brooking no argument. "Or I swear, I'll kill you myself."

Yuta, his face splitting into a wide, confident grin, just nodded. "I won't let you down, Hiro. I promise."

With that, he turned to face Geto, his stance low and ready, cursed energy beginning to swirl around him in a maelstrom of power.

Hiro, Maki held tight in his grasp, began to limp away. Each step was a torture, his battered body screaming in protest. But he pushed on, his jaw set, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Behind him, the sounds of battle erupted once more, the crash of cursed techniques and the roar of exploding energy filling the air.

But Hiro didn't look back. He knew Yuta would be alright. The kid was strong, maybe even stronger than Hiro himself, loathe as he was to admit it.

Geto didn't stand a chance.

It seemed to take an eternity, each step an agonizing lifetime. But finally, blessedly, the infirmary came into view.

Hiro shouldered the door open, staggering inside. With the last of his strength, he laid Maki gently on a bed, arranging her limbs with a tenderness that belied his rough exterior.

And then, as if a puppeteer had cut his strings, as if his body finally understood that its duty was done...

Hiro collapsed. He crumpled to the floor in a boneless heap, his eyes rolling back in his head, sweet oblivion rising up to claim him at last.

He had done it. Through pain and blood and sheer, indomitable will, he had brought Maki to safety. Had trusted in his friend, in Yuta, to finish what he had started.

As consciousness fled, as the darkness swept in to cradle him in its gentle embrace...

Hiro Miller, battered and broken, found that he had no regrets.

He had fought the good fight. Had given everything he had, and then some.

____________

Hiro's eyelids fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent lights of the infirmary assaulting his vision. He blinked groggily, his mind struggling to piece together the fragmented memories of the battle, the pain, the desperate struggle to save Maki...

Maki. With a jolt of panic, Hiro turned his head, ignoring the screaming protest of his battered muscles.

She was there, sitting beside his bed, her face a mix of relief and exasperation. Her hair, usually tied back in a severe ponytail, hung loose around her shoulders, softening her sharp features. And her glasses were nowhere to be seen, revealing the striking gold of her eyes.

"Finally awake, huh?" she said, her voice rough with an emotion Hiro couldn't quite place. "You feeling okay?"

Hiro took a moment to assess his body, to catalog the myriad aches and pains that seemed to radiate from every cell. He felt like he'd been run over by a truck, then backed up on for good measure.

"I've been better," he admitted, his voice a hoarse croak. Then, because he couldn't resist, he added, "By the way, you look cute with your hair down. And without the glasses."

Maki's response was immediate and violent. Her fist slammed into Hiro's stomach, right over a particularly nasty bruise. Hiro yelped, curling in on himself as agony lanced through his gut.

"Shoko healed your wounds," Maki said, her tone matter-of-fact even as Hiro writhed in pain. "But your body is still exhausted. Gojo says your recovery time has been extended to two weeks."

Hiro groaned, both from the throbbing in his abdomen and the prospect of being bedridden for so long. Then, a thought occurred to him.

"What about Yuta?" he asked, struggling to sit up despite the screaming protest of his muscles. "Did he beat Geto?"

Maki nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "He did. Even managed to free his cursed spirit, Rika. She's her own entity now... more or less."

Hiro scoffed, falling back against the pillows. "That idiot. He just swooped in to steal my spotlight."

Maki raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "And what would you have done if he hadn't shown up? You were on your last legs, Hiro."

Hiro waved a dismissive hand, wincing as the motion pulled at his battered muscles. "I would have beaten him. Probably with a Black Flash or something."

Maki's eyebrows climbed even higher. "I've never seen you pull off a Black Flash. What made you think you could do it against Geto?"

Hiro shrugged, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his shoulders. "Dunno. I would have figured something out. Improvised."

Maki shook her head, but there was a fondness in her exasperation. She reached out, her fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Hiro's forehead.

"Don't make me worry like that again, you idiot," she murmured, her voice softer than Hiro had ever heard it.

Hiro grinned, ignoring the way the action pulled at his split lip. "I mean, I doubt I'll be getting into another fight like that anytime soon. There's only, what, three special grade sorcerers left? And I don't see any of them going rogue. Or some super curse popping up out of nowhere. Or, hell, even Sukuna himself making an appearance."

Maki frowned, confusion etched across her features. "Sukuna?"

Hiro stared at her, aghast. "Uh, yeah? The King of Curses? Baddest of the bad? Ringing any bells?"

Maki just shrugged, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Hiro gaped at her. "Do you even pay attention in class?"

"Nope," Maki said, popping the 'p'. "Do you?"

"Of course!" Hiro said, affronted. "Why do you think I'm top of the class?"

Maki just rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Anyway," she said, changing the subject. "It's Christmas. What are we going to do? I'm guessing you didn't have time to get me a present, what with the whole 'nearly dying' thing."

Hiro grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, ye of little faith. Your present is in my room. But, uh, seeing as I'm currently incapable of movement... think you could grab me a wheelchair? I'd really rather not crawl there."

Maki's eyebrows shot up, a look of gleeful disbelief on her face. "The great Hiro Miller, reduced to using a wheelchair? I thought your ego wouldn't allow for such a thing."

Hiro waved a hand dismissively, then hissed as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through his arm.

"If anyone asks, I'll just tell them you broke my pelvis with your enthusiastic lovemaking."

The words had barely left his mouth before Maki's hand shot out, grabbing his ear and twisting viciously. Hiro yelped, flailing weakly as he tried to escape her iron grip.

"Ow, ow, okay, I'm sorry!" he whined, tears of pain pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I take it back, please don't rip my ear off!"

Maki held on for a moment longer, her eyes narrowed in a glare that promised retribution. Then, with a final, warning twist, she released him.

Hiro slumped back against the pillows, rubbing his abused ear and pouting theatrically.

"You're so mean to me," he whined, his lower lip jutting out. "Here I am, your brave hero, wounded in battle... and this is the thanks I get?"

Maki snorted, but there was a softness in her eyes that belied her harsh exterior.

"You're an idiot," she said, her voice fond. "But you're my idiot. And... I'm glad you're okay."

Hiro felt his heart skip a beat, a warmth blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with his injuries.

"Maki..." he started, his voice suddenly hoarse with emotion.

But before he could continue, the infirmary door burst open, revealing a grinning Panda and a stoic Inumaki.

"Hiro!" Panda exclaimed, bounding over to the bed. "You're alive!"

"Unfortunately," Maki muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

Gojo burst into the room with his usual flair, his signature grin plastered across his face. "My golden boy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with melodramatic concern. "I heard you were at death's door!"

Hiro, still wincing as he tried to sit up, managed a cocky smirk. "Please. Geto's hits were barely a quarter as strong as yours, sensei."

Gojo laughed, the sound rich and warm. "True, true. But give the man some credit. He was a special grade, after all."

Hiro waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the twinge of pain the motion sent through his arm. "Whatever. I'm still going to be the strongest, in the end."

Maki, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and exasperation, snorted. "You're awfully confident for someone in your position," she said dryly. "Let's review, shall we? You fought a drunk old man, Naobito, and barely scraped a win. You fought Naoya and got your ass handed to you. And now Geto, who pretty much used you as a punching bag."

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. "I don't recall seeing you win decisively, like, ever."

Hiro gaped at her, a look of betrayal on his face. "Excuse me? Are you my girlfriend or my hater?"

Maki shrugged, a small, mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Little bit of both, I guess."

Gojo, who had been watching the back-and-forth with undisguised glee, clapped his hands together. "Alright, lovebirds, let's take this party to the common room. I ordered some food so we can spend Christmas together, all cozy and whatnot."

Hiro, determined to salvage his pride, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He gritted his teeth, preparing to stand, when Maki's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hold up, you idiot," she said, her tone somewhere between concerned and annoyed. "Let me get you a wheelchair."

Hiro shook off her hand, his jaw set stubbornly. "I don't need it," he insisted, planting his feet on the floor. "I'm fine, see?"

He took one step, then two. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually make it.

Then, his legs buckled, his battered body finally giving out on him. With a yelp, Hiro tumbled to the floor, landing in an undignified heap.

Gojo, far from being concerned, just laughed. "Man, Geto really did a number on you, huh?"

Hiro, his face pressed against the cool tile, just groaned.

Maki, shaking her head, moved to help him up. "Idiot," she muttered, but there was a fondness in her voice that she couldn't quite hide.

With a lot of grunting, cursing, and no small amount of laughter from Gojo, they managed to get Hiro into a wheelchair. He slumped in the seat, his face red with humiliation and exertion.

"This sucks," he whined, as Maki began to push him out of the infirmary. "I feel like an invalid."

"You are an invalid," Maki said bluntly. "But don't worry, I'm sure your ego will keep you company."

Hiro twisted in his seat to glare at her, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his side.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused, his eyes narrowed.

Maki just smiled sweetly. "Immensely."

Gojo, strolling alongside them with his hands in his pockets, chuckled. "Ah, young love. So beautiful to witness."

Both Hiro and Maki shot him a look that could have melted steel, but he just grinned, unperturbed.

As they made their way to the common room, Hiro couldn't help but feel a warmth blooming in his chest. Sure, he was in pain, humiliated, and being pushed around in a wheelchair by his far-too-amused girlfriend.

But he was alive. He was with his friends, his makeshift family.

And it was Christmas. A time for joy, for laughter, for being together.

As Maki wheeled him into the common room, as the scents of good food and the sounds of cheerful chatter washed over him...

Hiro found himself smiling. A real, genuine smile, not his usual cocky smirk.

Because this? This right here?

This was what mattered. What made all the pain, all the struggles, all the near-death experiences worth it.

This warmth, this love, this sense of belonging.

It was the greatest gift he could have asked for.

And as he sat there, surrounded by the people he cared for most in the world...

Hiro knew, with a certainty that went soul-deep, that he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

For them. For this.

For the chance to be here, in this moment, battered but unbroken.

Alive.

Loved.

Home.