CHAPTER 9: RISING DRAGON
The man named Shigeru Akagi had said something utterly nonsensical.
"Winning after a successful dodge" is inferior to "simply winning"? But if you could win cleanly, why would anyone choose to struggle through the pain?
The bizarre question flooded Ren's mind, triggering another "Mental Overdrive." A thousand thoughts processed in a single heartbeat.
Combining his new memories with the logic of the man standing before him, Ren realized Akagi wasn't just talking philosophy. He had spotted a "Deep Error" that Ren hadn't even admitted to himself.
"..."
Ren grew quiet, his breathing becoming heavy as his fingers brushed against a fundamental truth of combat.
Suddenly, a scream from the sidelines snapped him back to reality.
"ONII-CHAN!"
Ren's eyes darted toward the movement. Instinctively, he executed a back-dash, narrowly avoiding Komada's mid-level roundhouse kick.
The air hissed as the steel-toed boot whistled past.
The kick missed, leaving Komada momentarily off-balance. It was the perfect opening for a counter-attack, but Ren just stood there, panting, looking almost dazed.
"What the hell! Start fighting!"
"Oi! Are you stalling for time? Kill him!"
"Nioh! Kick his head off!"
The crowd's frustration boiled over into insults. The stagnant pace was killing the "show." The amateur referee waved his hands frantically. "Keep going! Fight!"
"..."
Seeing Ren's lack of movement, Komada finally lost his patience.
"Dodging and weaving... it's boring. Hey! How long do you plan on running?"
"I'm ending this with one punch! COME AT ME!!"
Zip!
Komada slid forward, throwing a left-straight feint. The wind pressure slapped against Ren's face.
Ren didn't raise his guard. He let his arms hang at his sides, opened his weary eyes, and let out a long, calm breath.
"...I get it now."
With blood smeared across his lips, he began to laugh. "That's right. Ryu's lesson... and what Akagi-san was saying. I know where I was wrong."
"I forgot the most important feeling."
"A fight is supposed to feel like this. But I was trying to escape it—escape the reality of it. That's why I couldn't win. Even when I had the advantage, I was always retreating."
"A style that relies on 'dodging before winning' can never match a style that prioritizes 'winning' above all else."
"..."
Hearing Ren mutter to himself gave Komada a sudden, inexplicable chill. He decided he was done talking. He planted his feet and unleashed a full-power, committed right-straight to finish the lunatic once and for all.
The next instant—
SHING!
A sickening CRACK echoed through the building, followed by the sound of blood splattering onto the dirt.
The crowd gasped. They stared at the ring in total disbelief, unable to process the sight before them.
Komada's right hand was still extended. He hadn't missed. His fist had connected squarely with Ren Shiroki's forehead.
But Komada's right forearm was... gone. Both the ulna and radius bones had snapped clean through. Jagged, white bone shards protruded through the skin, dripping with gore. His forearm was now half its original length.
"—Guh?!"
The agony hit Komada a second later. His pupils dilated, and cold sweat drenched his massive frame.
Ren's forehead was split open, a deep gash leaking blood that mixed with the sweat on his face, tracing terrifying red lines down his cheeks.
"Does it hurt, Komada-san?"
"I almost forgot... the feeling of pain."
Ren bared his bloody teeth in a grin. "I kept trying to 'avoid' it. Avoid Ryu's fists, avoid your attacks, avoid the pain. Even when I couldn't get away, I was still mentally trying to run. That's why I was losing the 'Win-State.'"
"After all... if you can't afford to pay the price of a little pain, how can you ever expect to win?"
The bloody sight left Arisa frozen. She couldn't understand what had happened. "What did Onii-chan... just do?"
"It was a Counter-Hit," Karura explained, her eyes wide with professional interest. "In boxing, it's a 'Meet-Hit.' You predict the exact moment of the opponent's strike and launch your own movement simultaneously. You use the time difference to beat them to the punch."
"The force of both fighters is combined into a single point of impact. You aren't just hitting them with your strength; you're returning their own power back into their body."
"..."
Beside her, Fusui's eyes were bulging with veins. She was using the Kure Clan's "Removal" technique on her optic nerves to enhance her vision.
"In professional matches, some fighters use the top of their forehead to 'intercept' a fist," Fusui added. "Ren-chin combined the two. At the exact moment Komada threw his full weight into that punch, Ren accelerated into it, using the hardest part of his skull as a hammer to meet the fist."
"The combined kinetic energy was enough to shatter Komada's arm like a dry branch."
Fusui began to shiver with excitement, licking her lips. "The stance, the footwork... Ren-chin's technical execution is becoming... beautiful."
While the girls analyzed the technique, the two old men were discussing the "flavor" of the fight.
"Ho ho ho! Was I wrong, Akagi-kun?"
"No. That was a magnificent play," Akagi said, a thin smile on his face as he took a drag of his cigarette. "I'm starting to understand the appeal of these 'Kengan Matches' of yours."
Metsudo leaned in. "And what is that appeal?"
"...The Flavor."
Akagi used a strange word. He turned back to Metsudo. "What do you think is the most delicious thing in the world?"
Metsudo chuckled. "For an old man like me? Steak. And sweets."
"Heh. True enough," Akagi said, smoke curling around his silver hair. "But I have a different preference."
"Take Mahjong, for example. There are crazy people in this world who get addicted to the game. They bet their fortunes, their reputations, even their lives on the tiles..."
"Whether they're geniuses or fools, their desire to win is equally absolute."
"And then, at the deciding turn, a man will put everything he is into a single discard. He exhausts every drop of mental energy, he hesitates, he trembles... and finally, he thinks: 'This is the one.'"
"When he plays that tile, it's like he's playing his own soul."
"It's the flavor of eating a person's heart."
"Perhaps a punch in the arena, when thrown with that same resolve, has that same flavor..."
Akagi finished his cigarette and looked back at the ring. His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's over."
Komada's right arm was useless meat. Driven by pure agony and blind rage, he swung a desperate, wild left hook. He wanted to kill Ren. He wanted to tear him apart.
But Akagi was right. It was over.
Komada's posture was shattered. His balance was gone. Ren, though nearly out of stamina and covered in blood, was perfectly centered. His breathing was a steady, rhythmic pulse.
In Ren's vision, Ryu and Komada lunged one last time.
By "correctly facing" Ryu's lessons, Ren's body moved with the fluid grace of a master. A new technique crystallized in his mind.
"Hoo..."
He dropped into a micro-crouch, coiling his legs like high-tension springs. His left hand reached forward for balance; his right fist was chambered deep at his waist.
As Komada and the phantom Ryu entered his "Kill Zone"—
Ren's legs exploded. His body snapped upright like a steel trap, and his right fist rocketed upward in a vertical arc.
[SHORYUKEN!]
His fist split Komada's guard and buried itself into the giant's solar plexus. A dull, heavy THOOM echoed through the casino.