The 5th Special Grade | Jujutsu Kaisen

The battlefield was alive with energy, the clash of steel echoing through the desolate field as Furōkawa and Sigrun moved with relentless precision. It was more than a fight—it was an intricate, dance of death. The radiant golden arcs of Excalibur met the silver, cursed glints of Onamazu, sparks flying with every collision. Their movements mirrored each other: precise, calculated, and unyielding. Sigrun's wings flared as she spun mid-air, deflecting Furōkawa's whip-like Basilix with a swift twist of her sword.

She landed gracefully, her golden armor streaked with blood from earlier blows.

Furōkawa pressed forward, weaving his strikes with unmatched versatility, seamlessly shifting Onamazu between forms as he sought an opening.

Sigrun countered, stepping inside his guard with startling speed. She ducked under a swing of Oryx and drove her knee into Furōkawa's stomach, forcing him to stumble back. Before he could recover, she spun on her heel, her wings adding momentum to a powerful roundhouse kick that sent him reeling.

As he staggered, she followed with a clean slash from Excalibur that tore through his shoulder, crimson streaking the battlefield.

Furōkawa grimaced, blood dripping from the wound, but his grin only widened. "Not bad," he muttered, rolling his shoulder and promptly healing the gash. He shifted Onamazu again, the weapon expanding into its oar form.

Sigrun's golden eyes gleamed, her smile faint but genuine. "Show me more."

Furōkawa obliged, launching forward with renewed intensity. He swung the oar with deceptive fluidity, its wide arcs forcing Sigrun to stay on the defensive.

As she parried, Furōkawa suddenly shifted his grip, feinting low before striking her midsection with the flat of the oar. The blow sent her staggering, and before she could react, he transitioned Onamazu into Oryx. With a powerful, seamless slash, he carved a deep line across her side, golden blood splattering the ground.

Both fighters stumbled away from each other, panting heavily. Sigrun wiped the blood from the corner of her unmoving lips with the back of her gauntlet. Her voice was calm, yet filled with excitement.

"Your name, warrior."

Furōkawa straightened, wiping blood from his chin and steadying his stance.

He met her gaze, a grin splitting his face. "Fukitsu Furōkawa."

Sigrun nodded, her wings shifting as she raised Excalibur once more. "Good. I will remember it."

They charged again, their weapons meeting in a deafening clash. Each strike was laced with the intent to kill, yet there was no hatred between them— only respect and exhilaration. Blood was drawn from both, staining the battlefield. Furōkawa's whip slashed across Sigrun's thigh, while a sharp strike from Excalibur grazed his ribs.

The fight was relentless. Sigrun's wings fired blade-like projectiles, forcing Furōkawa to dodge and counter with Haze and Catalyst, the mist distorting her aim just enough to give him an opening. He struck her side with Basilix, the whip's energy crackling on impact, but she retaliated with a burst of blinding light that forced him to cover his eyes. In a moment of desperation, Furōkawa focused his cursed energy completely. He steadied his breathing, narrowing his focus as he recalled the singular moment he had landed a Black Flash before. His vision sharpened, and his cursed energy aligned perfectly with his movements.

Sigrun swung Excalibur, but Furōkawa ducked, his body moving as if guided by instinct. Onamazu shifted back into Oryx, and with a deafening roar, he struck.

The Black Flash connected.

The impact was monumental, the cursed energy erupting with unimaginable force. Sigrun was hurled backward, the ground beneath her shattering as her golden armor cracked under the blow. Blood sprayed from her midsection, staining her once-pristine form.

Yet Sigrun rose almost immediately, her golden eyes blazing with unrelenting fury. Despite the damage, she fought as if nothing had happened. Her swings were just as fast, her strikes just as precise, her movements even more ferocious. Furōkawa's chest heaved as he struggled to keep up, the toll of his unleashed power beginning to weigh on him.

Unbeknownst to him, the timer on his Binding Vow reached its limit. The surge of cursed energy that had fueled him faded, leaving him weaker in the heat of battle. Sigrun capitalized on the shift immediately.

"You're faltering, Furōkawa," she said, her tone sharp yet exhilarated. "Your edge is gone. Fight back, or you'll die."

Her words rang true as she pushed him back with a series of devastating strikes. Excalibur cleaved through the air, each swing heavier and faster than the last. Furōkawa barely managed to deflect the blows, his movements slowing as fatigue set in.

With a powerful upward slash, Sigrun disarmed him, Onamazu flying from his grip and embedding itself in the ground several feet away. Before he could react, Sigrun lunged, driving Excalibur straight into his gut. The blade pierced him completely, pinning him to the ground with a sickening crunch. The earth beneath them cracked and shattered from the impact.

Furōkawa gasped, blood spurting from his mouth. His vision blurred, but he remained conscious, his will refusing to let him black out.

Sigrun leaned in close, her expression both fierce and respectful. "Do not falter now, warrior. Face your death with pride."

Suddenly, the world around him shifted.

The battlefield dissolved into a serene, otherworldly scene-a green river flowing calmly under a pale sky.

Furokawa stood at the river's edge, his bloodied hands trembling as he stared at them in confusion. The pain in his gut was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness.

"What... is this?" he murmured, his voice echoing softly.

A faint ripple disturbed the surface of the river, and Furōkawa turned to see a figure standing silently before him.

The Boatman.

It loomed tall and shadowy, devoid of facial features, its form outlined in muted light. In its hand was Onamazu, the blade gleaming faintly as if untouched by the battle.

Furōkawa stared at the faceless being, his heart pounding as the weight of its presence pressed down on him.