CHAPTER 151: ARRIVAL
The 131kg mass of the Super-Physique hit the sand with a heavy, final THUD.
In the aftermath, the Underground Arena was filled only with the sound of ragged, wet gasps.
Hah... huff... hah...
Ren Shiroki's arms hung limp at his sides. His knees were buckled inward, his frame trembling as he fought to remain upright. He had nothing left in the tank. He couldn't even find the strength to lift his head.
Through a veil of dark crimson, Ren stared at the motionless form of Kureha Shinogi.
Step... slide...
Ren forced his feet to move. He turned to face the tiered stands, his gaze sweeping over the 1,500 spectators.
Thud... thud...
Ren stopped. He inhaled a final, pained lungful of air and raised a trembling fist toward the white dome above.
"I WON! AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!"
The roar shattered the silence, snapping the audience out of their trance. The crowd erupted into a chaotic, joyous celebration.
"VICTORY!"
"SHIROKI! REN SHIROKI!"
"A NEW LEGEND IS BORN!"
The Referee slammed his hands together, signaling the end. "MATCH IS DECIDED!! WINNER: REN SHIROKI!!"
As the words echoed, a team of medical enforcers vaulted over the wooden railing, sprinting toward the unconscious Kureha.
"Hurry! Get the stretcher!"
But as they prepared to lift the doctor, a massive hand reached out and clamped onto the lead medic's shoulder.
"!?!"
The staff jumped back in shock. Kureha Shinogi had sat up. His face had already regained its color, his vacant eyes replaced by a sharp, clinical focus. Aside from a few cuts and bloodstains, he looked remarkably recovered.
"Thank you for the effort, but I'm fine. Stand down," Kureha said.
He took a roll of gauze from the medic's bag and began expertly wrapping his own mangled left bicep. He wiped the blood from his jaw and looked at the lead doctor with a smile.
"Forgive my rudeness for refusing your treatment. I hope you aren't offended?"
The medic scratched his head, looking dazed. "O-Of course not, Shinogi-sama. To witness your self-treatment is a dream for any practitioner."
"However..." the medic looked at the ring, then at the doctor. "I can't believe you're moving already. That final hook was..."
"It was perfect," Kureha finished, standing up with a light, fluid grace.
He walked over to the hunched figure of Ren Shiroki. He reached down and took Ren's limp right hand, raising it high for the crowd to see.
"A magnificent struggle, Ren-kun. My curiosity is... satisfied for now."
With that, Kureha guided Ren over to a nearby stretcher, helping him lie down gently.
"Hmm. Internal hematomas aside, the most problematic issue is right here..."
Kureha flipped Ren onto his side. He traced his fingers along the left side of Ren's upper back, near the spine. He gestured for the other medics to gather around.
"Look closely. This is the hardest fracture to treat—the Interscapular Ribs."
"Because of their position under the major muscle groups, they cannot be set with a cast."
Kureha pressed his fingers into the muscle.
"To treat this properly, you cannot just consider the bone. You must map the patient's specific Muscle Grain. Every warrior is slightly different."
Kureha offered a clinical smirk.
"Because he slipped at the last second, it's a hairline crack, not a clean break. His elite constitution will handle the rest. However... if one applies a very specific, high-frequency manual vibration to relax the surrounding fibers, the healing rate will double."
"But the touch must be... firm."
SNAP!
Kureha's fingers twitched, delivering a sharp, percussive jolt to Ren's back.
Ren's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"WAAAAAAGGHHH!"
The scream startled the spectators. But a microsecond later, Ren felt a warm, numbing sensation flood his upper back. The agonizing, localized pressure vanished.
"Hoo...!"
Ren lay on the stretcher, offering Kureha a shaky thumbs-up.
Kureha smiled. "Excellent. Now... let us continue the demonstration."
Ren: "..."
Ren: "Wait, what?"
Kureha flipped him over again, using Ren as a "Living Model" for his impromptu medical seminar.
"When treating internal trauma from a Dashin strike, one must consider the counter-vibration, or the situation will worsen."
Kureha began a series of high-pressure finger-strikes across Ren's abdomen and chest. Ren shrieked and groaned in a way that sounded far more pathetic than anything he'd done during the fight.
But as the "Massage" ended, his muscles went slack with relief. His internal organs felt "Cool" for the first time since the match began.
Kureha finished the session and jotted down a prescription on a pad. He handed it to Ren as the youth sat up, feeling a strange, weightless clarity.
"Nice! Simply perfect! Thanks, Doc."
Ren reached out his hand. Kureha slapped the prescription into his palm and shook it firmly. The two warriors shared a grin of total contentment.
"What a sight!" the announcer cheered. "Dr. Shinogi is treating the victor who just broke him! This is the peak of warrior chivalry!"
The VIP Box.
"WOO-HOO!"
Arisa screamed, jumping for joy. "I told you! Good things happen when you have god-tier luck!"
Fusui Kure was ignoring the celebration. She was staring at Kureha's hands, her pen flying across a small notebook as she sketched his "Medical Grip."
"If I can learn to induce that kind of muscle failure with a simple tap," Fusui muttered to herself, "Ren-chin won't be able to refuse a checkup ever again. I could catch him while he's sleeping..."
Mitsuyo Kureishi leaned over her shoulder. "Fusui-chan, if you want to learn the art of 'Paralyzing the Target' with bare hands... I can teach you. I have a whole curriculum on 'Unpleasant Tactile Mastery.'"
Nozomi Tenma was about to stop the corrupting influence, but she noticed Fusui was actually nodding.
"Haha... yeah. Ren-kun is going to be in a lot of trouble later," Nozomi sighed.
She crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on the ring. "But those two... they're really something else. A match of that quality would sell out the Tokyo Dome on its own. I need to figure out how to get 'Valkyrie' on this level."
Doppo Orochi chuckled. "A lofty goal, Nozomi-chan. But this is the Underground Arena. What happens here stays in the dirt. No cameras, no leaks. That's the rule of the elite."
"I know," Nozomi said, glancing at the bald old man sitting nearby.
Mitsunari Tokugawa. The King of the Dome. His net worth alone was more than the entire Valkyrie circuit's projected five-year growth.
"I wonder if he's interested in female combat...?" Nozomi's business brain was redlining.
Baki Hanma let out a long yawn and stood up. "Alright, Old Man. Match is over. I'm heading home. I have a chemistry test tomorrow."
"Wait, wait!" Tokugawa laughed, stopping him with a hand. "The show is just starting!"
"Hmm?"
Baki rubbed his eyes. "Another match?"
Tokugawa's grin turned wicked. "Heh. I'm not sure if you could call it a 'Match'..."
Baki frowned. "You came to my school talking about Synchronicity and Convicts. You love making people wait, don't you?"
"Guilty as charged!"
Tokugawa didn't care about the Champion's annoyance. He opened his fan with a sharp snap. "Tonight's climax... it's the fruit of that Synchronicity!"
As the words left his lips, a figure strolled into the VIP box. The man ignored the guards and took a seat among the legends, his eyes locked on Tokugawa.
"Hmm. So... is this where the 'Good Things' are happening?"
The group turned.
Standing before them was a tall, blonde-haired Westerner with cold blue eyes. He wore a heavy, dark brown trench coat over a tracksuit and heavy combat boots.
"Heh," the man said, looking at the warriors in the box. "The atmosphere here is high-grade. My choice to accept the invite was correct."
Tokugawa's eyes lit up with a manic light. "Oho! Here he is! The Siberian Beast himself!"
"Welcome... SIKORSKY!"
☆☆☆
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