The beach had stopped looking like a beach a long time ago.
It was just impact zones now.
Craters.
Shattered sand turned to glass in places.
Saltwater spraying upward whenever someone got launched too hard.
And still—
the music kept playing.
Sukuna hadn't changed it once.
Ryomen Sukuna
"Perfect tempo."
Nanami looked like he had accepted reality.
Kento Nanami
"…I don't understand why this is happening."
Higaruma didn't even respond anymore.
Hiromi Higuruma
He was just healing people on instinct at this point.
Because the fight didn't stop.
Not for a second.
Hours passed.
Takeru didn't slow down.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't speak.
He was covered in blood.
Not just his.
Everyone's.
His haori was long gone.
His black shirt torn and stained.
His movements sharper than anything human should be able to sustain.
He moved like a machine that never needed rest.
One enemy tried to flank him.
Takeru twisted.
Perfect counter.
Another used a cursed technique.
It landed.
It looked effective.
Then Takeru adjusted mid-impact.
And suddenly—
that same technique was being used back against its owner.
Yuji's eyes widened.
"…He just used that!"
Megumi clenched his fists.
"…That wasn't his technique."
Gojo stared harder than usual.
"…He's copying everything."
Satoru Gojo
Geto's expression tightened.
Suguru Geto
"…No mastery. Just execution."
But nobody fully understood it.
Not yet.
Because to everyone else—
Takeru just looked like he was adapting too fast.
Too skilled.
Too locked in.
Not like someone stealing techniques.
Like someone becoming them.
The girl from earlier was still alive.
Barely.
Watching from the sand.
Blood on her face.
Unable to move.
Takeru passed her once during the chaos.
Paused for half a second.
Looked down.
No emotion.
Just recognition.
Then he kept fighting.
Nanami exhaled slowly.
"…He said he would deal with her later."
Higaruma nodded.
"…He will."
More enemies rushed in.
More clashes.
More explosions.
Hours blurred together.
Music still blasting.
Still absurdly loud.
Still completely out of place.
Sukuna leaned back slightly.
"…He's learning them mid-fight."
Gojo didn't respond immediately.
Then—
"…No."
A pause.
"…He already learned them."
That was the part nobody liked realizing.
Because every time Takeru moved—
something felt familiar.
Like he wasn't reacting.
Like he already knew.
Fred slowly raised a sign, now completely blood-stained:
"Learning speed: illegal."
And in the center of everything—
Takeru kept moving.
Still silent.
Still covered in blood.
Still winning.
Not stopping.
Not slowing.