CHAPTER 41: FEMALE UNDERGROUND COMBAT
Underground fighting—it wasn't a monopoly held by the Kengan Association.
To be more accurate, the Kengan Matches were the gold standard of underground combat, but they were far from the only game in town. Unlike the Kengan circuit, which was driven by corporate disputes and billion-yen contracts, most underground fighting rings were "For-Profit" ventures.
These groups were usually backed by the Yakuza or corrupt politicians. They recruited fighters, hosted matches in hidden venues, and charged admission fees to crowds of bloodthirsty gamblers.
Just like "sanctioned" combat sports in the public world, the underworld had its "Men's Division" and a smaller, but equally popular, "Female Division."
This was the world of Valkyrie Underground.
Ren Shiroki followed the "Scent" of combat through the winding alleys, his instincts acting as a compass.
He found himself standing in a cavernous, empty warehouse. There were no crates or shipping containers here; instead, a crude, octagonal ring had been cordoned off in the center, the floor covered in a layer of loose, packed sand.
The facility was primitive—far worse than the temporary setup the Zanshi-gumi had built for his match against Komada. But the lack of polish didn't dampen the energy of the crowd.
Over a hundred spectators were packed around the barrier. It was a diverse mix of low-level thugs, Yakuza foot soldiers, and bored salarymen looking for a thrill. The air was thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and the roar of the mob.
"..."
Since this was an illegal gathering, there were naturally "enforcers" at the door. They spotted Ren's new face immediately, pulling him aside to demand a "Spectator's Fee."
Ren paid the yen. The thug gave him a quick rundown of the house rules: no photos, no recording, and no starting fights in the stands. The guy didn't seem particularly motivated; he had the glazed-over look of a man who was just punching a clock.
It was obvious that this organization, while professional, was at the bottom of the underworld hierarchy. They couldn't afford top-tier talent, which made it hard to draw a massive crowd.
But the "Female Division" was their secret weapon for survival.
In the Men's Division, the draw was pure blood and brutality. In the Female Division, the promoters relied on a secondary, more primal draw: "Fanservice."
It was a survival strategy for a bottom-tier ring.
Having paid his way in, Ren pushed through the crowd to find a good vantage point near the ring.
The match was already underway. The atmosphere was reaching a fever pitch as the crowd's bloodlust boiled over.
"Go! Tear her apart!"
"Hahaha! What a steal! Only a few thousand yen to see a 'Pro' like her scrap!"
"Don't let up! Rip her gear off!"
"Take it off!"
The shouts were a mix of genuine sports enthusiasm and dark, predatory intent. Ren ignored the catcalls and focused his gaze on the ring.
The fighter currently holding the advantage was a muscular woman with short hair tied into messy twin tails. She wore a sports bra and tight athletic shorts. Her physique was impressive—dense, functional muscle rippled under her tanned skin.
Ren recognized her from a news segment he'd seen on a TV in a shop window.
Her name was Ran Tojo. She was the former Japanese Champion of the WWBC Super Featherweight class.
Her career record: Eight wins, two losses. One of those losses had been a disqualification after she triggered a violent "incident" outside the ring, leading to her being stripped of her professional license. She had vanished from the public eye shortly after.
For a disgraced pro like Tojo, there were only two paths. You retired and became a trainer, or you went "Underground."
Tojo had chosen the latter. She looked like she had adapted perfectly, moving with the cold efficiency of a shark in the water. Seeing a fighter of her caliber in a place like this was worth every cent of the admission fee.
However, the match was a disappointment. Tojo's opponent was clearly outclassed, being driven back step by step in a one-sided slaughter.
THUD! THUD!
After a quick exchange of blows, Tojo and her opponent reset their stances. Both women were breathing hard, their skin glistening with sweat.
The referee, who was also acting as the hype-man, shouted into a megaphone: "There it is! The genius boxer, Ran Tojo, has settled into her signature form! The legendary 'Philadelphia Shell Defense'!"
Ren was standing directly across from Tojo, giving him a perfect view of her technique.
The Philly Shell was a classic of the sweet science, made famous by legends like Floyd Mayweather. It relied on a low lead hand to protect the body and a high lead shoulder to deflect punches, allowing the fighter to counter with pinpoint accuracy.
Tojo's execution was flawless. She was a professional through and through.
"This match is already over..."
Tojo rolled her lead shoulder, her voice full of arrogance as she taunted her opponent.
"I heard you were the 'Champion' of some old-school underground circuit. But a 'King of the Gutter' is still just a piece of trash. Underground fighting is where the 'Pros' who can't hack it in the real world go to rot. You're out of your league."
"Don't worry. I'll make the execution quick!"
ZIP!
Tojo lunged forward, snapping a lightning-fast jab.
Ren watched closely. Like Fusui Kure, Tojo was "Agile," but her style was different. Where Fusui focused on grappling and evasion, Tojo focused on "Fast-In, Fast-Out" striking.
Using the Philly Shell, she wasn't throwing standard jabs. She was firing Flicker Jabs from the hip—strikes with trajectories that were nearly impossible to predict.
SHING—BOOM!
Tojo connected again. She followed through with a lead uppercut that caught her opponent in the chest. The other girl staggered back, doubling over at the edge of the ring, gasping for air.
"..."
Ren's eyes narrowed. He had spotted something.
Tojo's punches were carrying too much weight. Even with the thin MMA-style gloves, the impact was disproportionate to a flicker jab. She's loaded her gloves, Ren realized. There's lead or a steel slug hidden in the padding.
She was a disgraced pro for a reason. She had adapted to the "Underground Style" by embracing the dirtiest tricks in the book.
Ren sighed. The technique was impressive, but the cheating ruined the "Flavor" of the fight. It offered him no inspiration.
Ren was about to turn and leave when his gaze drifted to Tojo's opponent—the girl currently gasping for breath on her knees.
Wait... that stance.
Even though she was losing, her fundamental posture was rock-solid. Compared to the flashy, cheating Tojo, this girl's base was anchored. She looked like she had far more "Experience" than her opponent.
But something was wrong. Her movements were sluggish. Her legs were trembling, not from fear, but from exhaustion. She looked... malnourished. Starving.
It made no sense. Anyone in the underworld knew that you didn't step into a ring without a full tank. Even in Ren's poorest days before the match with Komada, he had made sure to eat a proper meal. You can't fight on an empty stomach.
How had a veteran fighter ended up so desperate that she was fighting for her life while starving?
"DIE!" Tojo roared.
She slid forward, her flicker jab aimed squarely at the girl's face.
The girl took a sharp breath. Her eyes sharpened as she prepared to meet the fist with the top of her forehead—a classic "Head-Counter." But her body failed her. The lack of glucose in her system slowed her reaction by a fraction of a second.
CRACK!
Tojo's weighted fist slammed into the bridge of the girl's nose. Blood sprayed across the sand.
THOOM!
Tojo followed up with a heavy elbow to the girl's sternum, launching her backward. The girl collapsed into the dirt right at the edge of the ring, her breathing ragged and shallow.
"Guh... cough... ah..."
She had landed directly in front of Ren. At this distance, he could hear it—the loud, persistent growl of her stomach. She was literally dying for a sandwich.
The crowd began to jeer, assuming the match was over. The girl heard them, her pained expression shifting into a look of dazed, delirious realization.
"I'm going to lose...? Wait... I'm actually going to lose?"
"Eh? You've got to be kidding me. I'm the genius Kung Fu girl... Yuzuha Li..."