Chapter 273: Tricking the Old Fox
Ren Shiroki's body wobbled, and his eyes remained glassy and unfocused. To a
combatant in the middle of a life-and-death exchange, this was the equivalent of
a death sentence.
"Gulp—!"
Fusui Kure swallowed hard, her knuckles white as she gripped the barricade.
"Ren-chin was the one who initiated the grab, yet he was the one who got
dismantled... That old man is beyond terrifying!"
Official Sonoda stared in awe. "That... is Gouki Shibukawa's Aiki-Throw."
Sonoda was an observant student of the martial arts. As he watched, he mentally
replayed the Master's past lectures on the mechanics of the throw.
"Unlike those who rely on striking, Shibukawa-sensei has elevated Aiki to a
functional battlefield level, using the throw as his primary weapon. And Sensei
always said: a throw has three critical stages—which are also its three greatest
weaknesses!"
Fusui listened intently. Sonoda continued: "First, you must successfully Grip
the opponent. Second, you must Launch the opponent. Third, you must ensure the
opponent Impacts the ground."
"If you fail to complete even one of those steps in the correct sequence, the
throw loses its lethality!"
Fusui understood. It was basic combat theory, similar to the Kure Clan's own
doctrines. "Compared to a strike... where you just have to hit the target."
The girl nodded. "Training to hit and training not to be hit... that's the
foundation for 90% of the world's fighters."
Sonoda added grimly, "At the highest level, a one-shot kill with a strike is
rare unless you hit a vital organ. But a throw is different! By accepting the
risk of those 'Three Weaknesses,' a throw gains the potential for an absolute
finish!"
"Unlike a punch, a Master's throw adds the opponent's own mass to the force of
the user's torque. It's an impact delivered by the Earth itself!"
Sonoda looked at Ren. He was desperately trying to convince himself that this
was just a "friendly spar," but his tactical brain wouldn't allow the delusion.
"Right now, Ren-kun's brain is vibrating within his skull. In that state,
launching a coherent, effective strike is almost impossible!"
Sonoda muttered a nervous complaint. "Seriously... how far are these two going
to take this 'game'?!"
Ren Shiroki's arms hung limp at his sides. He swayed like a blade of grass in
the wind. Shibukawa offered a serene smile, stepping forward and aligning his
fingertips toward Ren's throat.
Suddenly—WHOOSH!
Ren drove off the balls of his feet. He didn't lunge forward; he performed a
high-speed lateral dash, circling the interior of the octagon to reset the
distance.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
It was a raw, desperate retreat. Any amateur could do it. But the key was the
context: Ren's equilibrium was currently non-existent. For a normal person,
taking even one step would have resulted in a face-plant.
"Oho?"
Shibukawa looked surprised, then chuckled as he realized the logic. "Using a
high-velocity dash to force your body into a straight line... so you only have
to manage the balance for 'that one step' at the end? Clever."
Ren came to a stop several meters away. His vision was still a hazy blur, but he
gave a sharp nod of confirmation. He was using the [DRIVE RUSH] as a gyroscope,
letting the momentum carry his weight while using [PARKOUR] instincts to
manually compensate for the vertigo.
It was an ugly, frantic maneuver, but it successfully prevented Shibukawa from
following up, buying Ren the precious seconds he needed to breathe.
"Heh... hehe..."
Shibukawa knew pursuit was pointless now. He took a single, symbolic step
forward and waited for the youth to recover.
Ren took several deep, ragged breaths. The world finally stopped spinning. His
vision snapped back into sharp focus.
"Phew—!"
He exhaled a massive cloud of heat. He looked at Shibukawa, who was standing in
an open, relaxed posture. Ren couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his
face.
"I love this," Ren whispered to himself. "Using every trick I've ever learned...
ignoring all other options... just to experience a singular, unique individual
like you."
"Who are you? What have you been through? What makes you 'Gouki Shibukawa'? I
want to feel it all!"
"Sensei... you really are a piece of work! You're magnificent!"
STOMP!
Ren drove his foot into the sand again. This time, without the concussion
dragging him down, his speed was terrifying. He left a trail of dust in his
wake.
ZIP!
[DRIVE RUSH]!
Maintaining that level of output was a massive drain on his stamina, but Ren had
no choice. He became a blur of motion around the old master, circling and
weaving, searching for a single frame of opening.
Swish! Zip! Whoosh!
But no matter how fast Ren moved, the stationary Shibukawa offered zero
openings. It was as if every move Ren made was part of the Master's pre-written
script.
One was a storm of motion; the other was absolute stillness. Yet it was the
storm that was at a disadvantage.
"EXHILARATING!"
Ren suddenly dived to Shibukawa's flank. He leaped, twisting his body in mid-air
to build torque before firing a stinger-like back-fist.
"DIE!"
[CAMMY'S QUICK SPIN KNUCKLE]!
Faced with a strike, Shibukawa once again applied his Aiki. He caught the
momentum, intending to return Ren's own force with interest while adding a push
of his own.
But the moment he made contact, Shibukawa felt an anomaly.
Ren's back-fist had zero weight behind it!
Slap!
Ren was hit by the Aiki-counter, but because his initial output had been so low
and he had landed in a low, stable crouch, he wasn't launched. He merely tilted
backward.
"I WAS WAITING FOR THAT!"
Ren roared. Using the backward tilt as a wind-up, he snapped his left leg
forward in a violent kick.
[DRIVE REVERSAL: SAGAT'S RUSSIAN KICK]!
ZIP!
It was a low-torque, high-speed interruption kick designed to break an
opponent's rhythm. It relied on localized muscle snap rather than full-body
weight.
It was the perfect "scalpel" to bypass the "boulder" of Aiki. And even if it was
a "low-power" strike... it was being delivered to a seventy-five-year-old man's
solar plexus.
"HYAH—!"
POW!
Ren's foot connected flush with Shibukawa's chest.
But strangely, the Master wasn't sent flying. His posture didn't even ripple.
—Wait.
Fusui Kure's eyes narrowed. Shibukawa had moved. He hadn't flinched, but his
entire body had shifted backward by a fraction of a centimeter at the exact
moment of impact. The sand in front of his lead foot bore a fresh, thin
score-mark.
Through that microscopic adjustment, Ren had only succeeded in scuffing the
fabric of Shibukawa's gi. The lethal force had been nullified.
"Ho-ho~!"
Shibukawa dusted off his chest, teasing with a grin. "Brat... that was quite the
kick. Where's your respect for your elders?"
Ren let out a raspy, dry laugh. "Respect? If I treated you like an 'old man,'
you'd be insulted enough to kill me!"
Shibukawa's face lit up with realization. "You're right! If you had sandbagged
that move, I'd have broken your neck by now."
He wasn't joking. Against Gouki Shibukawa—a 75-year-old who weighed less
than 50kg—showing "mercy" was a fatal mistake.
"You're an old monster who doesn't hesitate to fight men twice... no, six times
your size!"
Ren retreated several paces, leaning forward as he coiled for another charge.
Unmistakable Luke-style aggression.
Shibukawa noted the posture, his eyebrows arching. "Oh? An MMA suppression move?
You really want to play Judo with me now?"
Ren spat a mouthful of blood and grinned as sweat dripped from his brow. "Why
don't you guess?"
ULTIMATE ART— [LUKE'S ERASER]!
This was the move that had finished Dr. Shinogi. Based on CQC and modern MMA, it
involved a heavy lunging tackle followed by a relentless barrage of
"ground-and-pound" strikes.
Zip!
However, the wind-up was massive. The first punch missed by a mile, Shibukawa
casually stepping back to let it pass.
Ren's entire body was pitched forward, his fist buried in the air diagonally
below him.
Seeing the youth seemingly lose his composure, Shibukawa decided to end the
"game." He targeted the massive opening Ren had left after the whiffed punch. He
stepped in with his right leg, his palm-root firing upward toward Ren's chin.
"TASTE MY... [RISING PALM]!"
BANG!
The palm-root slammed into Ren's face. The impact contained Shibukawa's torque,
Ren's own body weight, and the momentum of the youth's lunging miss.
"Hah!"
A normal man's neck would have snapped instantly.
But based on their previous trade, Shibukawa intended to use this strike to flip
Ren onto his back and let him rest on the sand for a few minutes.
Then, the unexpected happened.
Shibukawa pushed with all his might, but Ren's head didn't rise. He couldn't
upend the youth. Ren's body didn't budge.
"—Eh?"
Shibukawa looked closer. Ren Shiroki was still in the "follow-through" of his
heavy punch. It wasn't a feint.
But compared to a standard punch, Ren had tucked his chin so low his head was
nearly between his shoulders!
When Shibukawa fired the rising palm, he hadn't hit the jaw. He had hit Ren's
forehead—specifically the thickest part of the frontal bone!
Splurt!
The sheer force split the skin of Ren's brow, blood pouring down his face. But
that was the only damage. Ren's center of gravity remained locked.
The "whiffed" Ultimate Art and the half-step retreat had all been a setup. Ren
had intentionally delivered a "clumsy" punch just to bait the Master into a
specific counter.
And because of that gamble, a singular gap appeared in Shibukawa's god-like
technical flow.
"This is the rhythm... of the Lag—!"
Ren began to rise, retracting his fist at the same moment he straightened his
back. His recovery speed was a fraction faster than Shibukawa's.
"TRICKED YOU!"
[FRAME PUNISH]!
Ren caught Shibukawa in the middle of his recovery frames. He swatted the
Master's extended arm aside and lunged.
But he wasn't stupid enough to try and out-wrestle the old man's hands.
ZIP!
Ren's arms shot forward, his massive hands clamping around either side of
Shibukawa's head.
The classic finisher of Muay Thai—
THE CLINCH. THE KNEE. READY FOR TAKEOFF—!!
(End of Chapter)
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