CHAPTER 129: THE STRONGER SIDE
Ren Shiroki's skin had been sliced open by Akoya's knuckles—a rapid blood-loss event accompanied by a tearing agony. But Ren's body was working overtime; his platelets were already beginning to seal the Furumi-boosted vessels.
The youth stood in a coat of his own blood, his grin never wavering. He settled into his new stance.
Legs staggered, slightly wider than his shoulders. Center of gravity tilted forward, his weight concentrated on the balls of his feet. His heels were a fraction of an inch off the concrete, ready to explode.
His arms were bent at a 120-degree angle, forearms taut. His right fist was chambered at his chest, a coiled spring waiting for the release.
His shoulder blades were depressed, locking his upper torso into a stable power-triangle. His lead foot was turned inward 15 degrees, his rear foot outward 30. He was in a state of permanent "Imminent Lunge."
This was the stance of the street. This was the form designed for the "frontal breach"—a style that used the entire body as a battering ram to finish a fight before it could truly begin.
The master who had shown him this form was Luke Sullivan.
Ren looked at the ink-wash silhouette of the Coach. Luke stood at the edge of the ring, his arms crossed over a barrel chest, a boisterous, encouraging grin on his face.
[Welcome to the world of street combat, kid!]
[You want a tutorial? Honestly? I can't explain it either. Words are a bore.]
[But like the man said... a fighter is just someone who decided to go out and fight their own war. If you're having a blast, then just keep swinging!]
Seishu Akoya couldn't comprehend the scene.
Standing before him was an opponent soaked in blood—a man who should be in shock from the pain and blood loss. But Ren Shiroki showed no fear. He looked... delighted.
He was actually enjoying this.
It wasn't the manic laughter of a serial killer or the vacant stare of a psychopath. Akoya had executed plenty of those. Ren was different. To Ren, the pain was just a biological data-point—a stinging, uncomfortable reality that he accepted as the cost of the "Flavor."
He's happy to be fighting me?
The thought was a jagged insult to Akoya's logic.
A common maggot... facing Judgment... and he dares to feel joy?!
Akoya's face turned into a map of bulging veins. His volcanic rage bubbled just beneath his stone exterior. The "Might" radiating from him became heavy and oppressive.
Ren sensed the spike in killing intent and his own battle-spirit flared. "Nice! Simply perfect! A few 'Scratches' are fine, Akoya-bro. But if you want to win, you're going to have to do better than that!"
Akoya ground his teeth. "Foolish brat. Your bravado won't stop the bleeding. Justice holds the higher ground!"
WHOOSH!
Ren lunged. His rear foot slammed into the concrete, propelling him forward with a velocity that seemed to warp the shadows. He pulled his right arm across his chest and unleashed a horizontal swinging hook.
[DRIVE IMPACT: MUZZLE FLASH]!
Luke's version of the dash was "Street Style"—heavier, faster, and designed to breach a guard by sheer force of personality.
BAP!
The hook slammed into Akoya's lead arm. Ren didn't wait for the recoil. He used the contact to pivot, driving his left palm into Akoya's face.
[JAMIE: SWAGGER STEP]!
The Drunken Fist palm-thrust was a blur. Ren's palm slammed into Akoya's forehead.
Even with his 75ms reaction time, Akoya couldn't clear the strike entirely. He tilted his head back, letting the "Might" of the strike travel into the bone of his skull rather than his delicate features.
The impact caused his brain to rattle. A spray of blood erupted from his nose as the pressure peaked.
"Guh—!?"
Akoya bit back the iron taste. He lashed out with a low roundhouse, followed by a left-straight "Ripper" jab.
Ren slipped the strikes, but the wind-pressure was enough to reopen the cuts on his calf and forearm. Fresh blood sprayed across the deck.
Ren didn't flinch. He raised a knee, pivoting on his lead foot for a high-line snap-kick aimed at Akoya's neck.
[LUKE: FATAL KICK]!
BANG!
Akoya managed a last-second side-slip, but the heel of Ren's boot caught him on the shoulder. He staggered back, coughing up a mouthful of blood as he tried to reset his Aegis Guard.
The two fighters stood ten feet apart, both covered in a mixture of their own blood and sweat. At this point, the "Visual Damage" was nearly identical.
Static... crackle...
Suddenly, the microscopic earpiece in Akoya's ear buzzed. Shunsuka Hiyama's voice reached him, cold and clinical.
{ I've got him, Seishu. The analysis is complete. He is indeed a biological anomaly... but his rhythm has a pattern. }
"Do not fail me, Hiyama," Akoya whispered.
This was their secret "Partnership." Akoya provided the violence; Hiyama provided the navigation.
Hiyama was a human metronome. She could analyze a target's "Intervals"—the exact micro-seconds between heartbeats and breaths where the body was physically incapable of reacting.
In a fight, every human has a rhythmic vulnerability. Hiyama used her high-speed monitoring gear to decode those gaps and relay "Strategy Codes" to Akoya. Combined with his 75ms reflexes, Akoya could move on pure neurological "Reflex," bypassing the delay of thought entirely.
They were a single combat computer. An invincible machine of Justice.
Akoya's stance shifted.
He abandoned the high "Shield" guard. He dropped his body low, his hands open and splayed in front of him like the claws of a predator. He loomed over the ring, his presence becoming jagged and terrifying.
"!?!"
Takeshi Wakatsuki's eyes widened. "That stance... it feels familiar."
The Wild Tiger recognized the shadow of his old rival. "He's mimicking the Fang of Metsudo? No... he's evolved it. He's added more aggressive weight to the posture."
It was the Executioner's Pounce.
"Taste the horror of total suppression, Shiroki Ren!"
Akoya's voice was a low, vibrating growl. He looked like a "Steel Tiger" coiled to leap.
Ren Shiroki remained in his MMA stance, his weight centered. He looked entirely "Human" compared to the armored monster in front of him. To a spectator, Ren looked like an athlete; Akoya looked like a nightmare.
Watching from the sidelines, Cosmo Imai felt a cold sweat prickling his brow.
He was terrified of Seishu Akoya. Even as a spectator, the feeling that "there is no tomorrow" coming from the cop was overwhelming. There was no doubt in Cosmo's mind: The Executioner was more 'Scary.'
But Ren Shiroki? Even as he faced the Steel Tiger, Ren didn't radiate fear. In fact, Cosmo found himself liking the youth's presence. He felt a magnetic pull toward the light Ren radiated.
Why?
"Cosmo," Wakatsuki said quietly. "Who do you think is stronger right now?"
The young prodigy hesitated, then whispered: "Ren-senpai."
Wakatsuki nodded, agreeing with the assessment.
And that was the riddle Cosmo couldn't solve: Why was the terrifying, 'Non-Human' monster the weaker of the two?
Why did the 'Human' fighter, who looked so much more fragile, feel like the inevitable winner?
☆☆☆
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