MHA; Gojo Vs Sukuna

Chapter Eight: The Weight of the System

Satoru Gojo lay sprawled across his bed, a rare, genuine smile playing on his lips. His fingers lazily traced the smooth fabric of the sheets, the lingering warmth of the evening still clinging to his skin. This life… it wasn't so bad. No overwhelming responsibilities, no constant battles. Just peaceful, simple days. For the first time in a long while, he felt something close to contentment.

Just as his breathing began to slow, his mind drifting toward sleep, a sharp chime shattered the silence.

DANGER ALERT.

PENALTY ACTIVATED: FAILURE TO COMPLETE DAILY TASKS.

Gojo's eyelids fluttered open, his brows furrowing. The glowing blue screen hovered before him, its luminescence casting an eerie glow across his darkened room.

"A penalty?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What do you mean by that?"

The screen flickered, and new words materialized.

Punishment: Severe illness for one hour.

Gojo scoffed, rolling onto his side. "Yeah, right. Like some system can actually make me sick. That's just ridiculous."

Dismissing the message, he shut his eyes once more—only to feel something warm trickle down his nose.

A drop of crimson splattered against the back of his hand.

His body tensed. The red stain against his pale skin stood out starkly in the dim light. Before he could even process it, a sharp, searing pain erupted in his gut, twisting and coiling like barbed wire. His entire body jerked, his limbs spasming involuntarily as his breath hitched in his throat.

He gasped, but no sound escaped. His vision blurred, his once vibrant blue eyes darkening with agony. His fingers dug into the sheets, gripping them in desperation as he writhed against the relentless torment. His muscles screamed, his veins burned, his nerves felt as though they were being shredded apart fiber by fiber.

Time remaining: 58 minutes and 30 seconds.

Gojo's mind reeled. This isn't a joke. I'm really… being torn apart for a whole hour?!

His consciousness wavered as waves of nausea and fever crashed over him. His sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead, his body convulsing violently. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced—like his entire existence was being dismantled piece by piece, only for the pain to start anew the very next second.

Minutes crawled by, each one stretching into eternity. He lost track of time, lost track of himself. There was nothing but the agony, the suffocating, endless agony.

By the time the countdown reached zero, Gojo lay limp, his body drenched in cold sweat. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his face buried in the damp pillow. His limbs felt weightless, like a puppet with its strings cut. His entire being had been ground down to exhaustion, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell.

Auto-recovery initiated.

All damage has been healed.

A strange sensation washed over him—a cooling relief spreading through his veins, stitching his body back together. Yet, the echoes of pain still lingered in his mind, a cruel reminder of what had just transpired.

Warning: Next penalty will be doubled if the player fails to complete daily tasks again.

Gojo's lips trembled. His body was healed, but his mind? That was another matter entirely. He lay there, unmoving, his blue eyes unfocused as saliva pooled at the corner of his mouth. Silent tears trickled down his face, his body too spent to even acknowledge them. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, pulling him into an unconscious abyss.

The Next Morning

Soft footsteps padded against the wooden floor. A small girl, no older than six, shuffled out of her room, clutching a white teddy bear in one hand. Her short, snowy-white hair was tousled from sleep, and her half-lidded eyes held the dazed look of someone who had just woken up.

Rubbing her eyes, she made her way toward the bathroom—only to stop mid-step.

Her tiny mouth formed an 'o' as she blinked, staring at the figure crouched at the entrance.

Her older brother, Satoru, was sitting on the threshold, lacing up his running shoes.

"…Onii-chan?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Where are you going?"

Gojo looked up at her, a tired but soft smile gracing his lips. His usual playful arrogance was absent, replaced with a quiet determination.

"I think I'll go for a run," he replied simply.

The little girl's drowsiness vanished in an instant. She clutched her teddy bear tighter, her mouth falling open in pure shock.

"My lazy brother… is trying to improve himself?" she muttered under her breath. "I must still be dreaming."

Gojo chuckled at her reaction but said nothing more. He rose to his feet, adjusting the hood of his blue sweatshirt over his head. His black joggers fit snugly, allowing easy movement. With one last glance at his little sister—who still looked as if she couldn't believe her own eyes—he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

The crisp morning air greeted him as he stood on the pavement, the faint scent of dew and fresh earth filling his lungs. He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool dawn light.

Lifting his gaze, he tapped the side of his temple, summoning the system screen once more.

Daily Tasks:

Run 5 kilometers

Practice combat techniques

Meditate for 30 minutes

Gojo's grip tightened. His usually carefree eyes darkened, his resolve hardening like steel.

"I'm never going through that hell again."

Without another thought, he took off into a sprint, his feet pounding against the forest trail. The wind rushed past him, his heartbeat steady and focused. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but he pushed forward, his muscles burning with exertion.

This wasn't just training. This was survival.