"I told you to be careful, but you didn't hear me, and you caused a mess again. I am tired of this. Every time you fight, an issue arises. Why can't you go easy on your opponents?" Kenji started his nagging.
"I was careful. See? I didn't get myself hurt that badly, and I don't create an issue every time I fi—okay, I agree with it, but I went easy on my opponent," I answered him.
"Dumbass, careful here means not to hurt your opponent badly and create a new problem for us. But you did what I told you not to. I can't stay with you anymore. I am leaving."
He spoke those words in a dramatic way and started to shed crocodile tears. He got up and started to run like a female lead trying to run from the male lead after telling him, 'We can't be together.'
I held his hand exactly the way the male lead would hold the female lead and said,
"Please don't leave me. I can't live without you."
"Get married. You both look exactly like a couple from a drama. Even the two of us can't get into their relationship. What do you say, Keiko?" Akiko came along with Keiko, saying those words with a little bit of jealousy and anger in her tone.
"Yeah, even I think they look like a couple with this pose. Anyone new would totally think the same thing," she agreed with Akiko and started to tease us.
"Right, then, why don't we ditch the new pair and go train by ourselves?"
"Yes, I think this is the right thing to do," the both of them agreed and went to train.
Kenji shook my hand off and started to go after Akiko. I asked him to let them be, as it was what they wanted.
We both sat down again and discussed my position, as I had just broken a candidate's arm.
After our training was over, I told Kenji that I was not going to the Minka for the next two days, not even for the training and theory classes.
He told me that Keiko was angry at me, as I had left without a message and didn't even attend the theory classes after promising her that I would attend.
I didn't even speak with her or say 'hi.'
I should apologize, take her on a beautiful date, or give her a present to cool her down.
For the next two days, I should solely focus on the upcoming fight on Friday.
Finally, the Friday had arrived.
I don't know how the others felt about that day, but I was really nervous, as that was the first match for me in front of my grandpa and the others.
I don't know how to put this feeling into words, but above anything else, I felt scared that I might lose.
Last time, I succeeded because it was an ambush, but this time, it was different. I needed to fight him head-on.
All of us arrived at six in the evening. The both of us started warming up, and the students started coming in one after the other.
The elders also came in along with them and went to sit in the audience stands.
After a few minutes, Kenji and the girls came in. The girls avoided me and went on ahead.
I knew whose idea it was to avoid me.
Kenji came to me and said that they were just angry at me because I was doing things as I wished and didn't even tell them what I was doing.
He said that and asked me to be careful—in the sense of not getting hurt, and not in the sense of going overboard.
He left me to my warm-up.
Finally, we both finished our warm-up and picked up our swords.
We both walked to our positions, looking at each other. His gaze was more like a glare.
I don't know why, but he was not the same guy I ambushed before.
Standing in our positions, ready to attack each other right at the signal, the referee came to the centre and asked us if we were ready and whether we were adding any extra rules or conditions.
Ken came forward and said,
"I would like to remove the rules from this match and make it a street fight. No referee, no rules, no restrictions. And I heard you defeated Ryuu in a melee fight, so let's have a melee fight. I would like to fight you till death."
"Uh... uh, choose your words cleverly, or else you might regret your choice of words and actions," I replied.
"Don't worry. You don't need to be afraid. I won't kill you, or if I do, I won't regret it," he said with pure arrogance, not even confidence.
"Okay! I agree to your terms. A fight till death, right?" I spoke.
"Yes."
The referee confirmed our decisions and announced the changes to the viewers. He then asked the elders if we were allowed to do it.
To my surprise, they accepted the conditions, which I thought would be denied, and the referee left the ring.
We both threw our swords aside and took our respective positions.
I took a glimpse at the three.
Kenji's face was as usual, but Keiko's and Akiko's faces were a little... how should I put that?
They were afraid, anxious, regretful, or a mix of those three.
I got myself together.
Even a little mistake or losing concentration could lead to big consequences.
As we stood in our positions and put up our stances, he asked,
"Do you watch anime?"
With a confused look, I replied,
"Who doesn't?"
"Nice. What's your favourite?"
"One Piece," I replied.
"Really? If it weren't for that thing you had done, we might have been friends."
"No, it's not my fault. It's yours. If you hadn't done what you had done, I wouldn't have done what I did," I replied.
"Not backing down in a fight with words, huh? Let's see if you are the same with your fists," he said.
The whole auditorium became calm to let us concentrate on our fight.
I didn't underestimate him this time.
Not for a second.
No rules meant his fists could climb to my face, and I could see it in his posture,his guard was higher now, tighter, heavier.
The calm was still there, but it was sharper.
Dangerous.
He didn't test me with a kick.
He stepped in and punched my head.
Bare-knuckle.
Straight down the centre.
The impact rattled my teeth and split my lip instantly.
Kyokushin power isn't flashy—it's crushing.
The second punch followed, then a hook that grazed my temple.
My vision blurred for half a beat.
I backed off, hands up, heart spiking.
So, this was the version of him that could kill.
He pressed, mixing head punches with low kicks, breaking rhythm.
One kick chewed into my thigh; another punch cracked against my forehead.
I could feel blood running, warm and distracting.
I didn't trade.
I couldn't.
Every instinct told me that standing still meant getting broken.
I circled, forced him to turn, forced him to work.
When he planted to throw a full-power right to my head, I slipped just enough that it skimmed past my ear.
That punch had intent behind it.
He wanted me unconscious.
He followed with a knee, close-range and brutal.
It caught my ribs and knocked the air halfway out of me.
Pain flared, sharp and deep.
I grabbed him, not clean, not pretty, just enough to stop the next strike.
He shoved me off immediately and fired again, fists heavy and relentless.
That's when I saw it.
Every time he committed to head punches, his hips stayed tall.
His base was still built for striking.
I let him hit me once more, glancing, not clean, just long enough to sell the exchange.
Then I dropped.
Not slow.
Not hesitant.
I crashed into his legs and drove with everything I had left.
He tried to smash downward with his fists as I shot in, and one clipped the back of my head hard.
But momentum won.
We hit the ground awkwardly, bodies tangled, breath knocked loose.
He tried to scramble up immediately, throwing short punches downward, wild but powerful.
I stayed tight.
No space.
No room to generate power.
I passed his legs under pressure, ate a forearm to the side of my head, then slid into side control.
His strength was real, he bridged, twisted, tried to roll me.
I adjusted, stayed heavy, forehead pressed into his jaw, making him carry my weight.
On the ground, his punches lost their teeth.
Mine didn't.
Short elbows found his face.
Not fast—heavy.
Each one opened something.
I felt his movement slow, his breathing change.
He tried to grab my head.
I let him.
That was the opening.
I slid my arm under his neck as he pulled, locked my hands, and squeezed.
He clawed at my arms, still fighting, still refusing to give up.
Kyokushin doesn't teach surrender.
So, I didn't wait for it.
I tightened the choke until his body stopped resisting with strength and started resisting with instinct.
His movements became jerky, desperate.
Then they faded.
I released the hold and rolled away, chest heaving, head pounding, blood dripping onto the floor.
He lay there unconscious, alive.
I stayed seated for a moment, making sure my balance was real and my vision steady.
My face felt swollen and split.
I lost myself after that.
Only anger remained.
My hair tie got undone.
I got up as my hair fell over my face, covering it.
I took hold of him, his neck in my hand, still unconscious.
I started ramming punches into him, heavy and fast, precisely to bring pain to him.
His face started to crack after a couple of punches, blood covering my fist.