Chapter 338: Get Ready!
Thud—!
Yanagi Ryuko lay flat on the arena sand, his mouth a jagged ruin of broken
teeth. His face twitched uncontrollably as dark blood leaked from his nose and
lips. A fragment of a shattered molar had lodged in his throat, choking him.
"Cough— ACK!"
Yanagi let out a violent, hacking cough, spraying blood across the sand. The
stinging, throbbing ache in his face forced his eyes to screw shut.
So... strong...
Yanagi's entire frame trembled. He gasped for air, forcing himself to crawl back
to his feet. As he replayed the last few frames of their exchange in his mind,
he reached a singular conclusion:
Ren Shiroki was a monster.
But he was a different kind of monster than Baki Hanma. Baki's strength was
pure, a refined pinnacle of martial arts. Ren's strength was... messy. It was a
chaotic blend of styles and "intent" that made it impossible to predict.
"Hah... hah..."
Yanagi panted, his chest heaving. A massive clump of hair had been ripped from
his scalp; blood flowed from the wound, slicking his face and dripping off his
chin. His nose was crooked, shattered by Ren's last punch.
"Shiroki... you are truly powerful," Yanagi hissed through a mask of blood,
offering a cold, raspy smirk. "But—you still aren't on Baki Hanma's level!"
This was a calculated psychological jab, but it was also Yanagi's honest
assessment. When he had fought Baki, the humiliation had been absolute. Not only
had his Poison Hand failed, but Baki had already mastered the "Whiplash Arm"
technique and countered it effortlessly. Worst of all, Baki had simply chosen to
stop fighting, walking away with his girlfriend as if Yanagi weren't even worth
killing.
That powerlessness was a scar on Yanagi's soul. But against Ren Shiroki, Yanagi
still believed he had a puncher's chance.
Ren remained in his side-facing stance, rolling his shoulders to stay loose.
"Even after hitting the dirt like that, you still want to keep going,
Yanagi-san?"
Ren hooked a finger into the corner of his own mouth, baring his teeth in a
mocking grin. "You've already fallen once, and it wasn't pretty. Your teeth are
gone, and your nose is pointing the wrong way. You sure you want to see the rest
of this 'process'?"
A cold sweat broke out on Yanagi's brow. If you hadn't experienced it firsthand,
it was hard to describe the difference.
Baki Hanma fought like a god—he decided when the fight began and when it ended.
Ren Shiroki fought like a technician—he sat back and meticulously analyzed your
injuries as if he were looking for the best place to make the next cut.
Yanagi's remaining fighting spirit began to flicker. To regain the initiative,
he wiped the blood from his chin and sneered.
"Those two fingers you used earlier... it looked like acupuncture, but the
mechanics were pure striking. A 'flick' to the chin to rattle the brain."
Yanagi rubbed his jaw. "A clever move. Exploiting the recovery frames of my
Poison Hand to induce a concussion. Very technical."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you can still see what's happening."
Yanagi's voice suddenly rose to a thunderous, desperate roar. "But the match
isn't over! Shiroki, you still have the naivety of a 'Martial Artist'! You
didn't follow up when I was down! You missed your window to finish me, and that
means I haven't lost yet!"
Ren's expression shifted, turning slightly pained, as if he were disappointed.
"I see. So even after all that, you still want a 'Death Match' to the bitter
end?"
"Fine. I hear you. Let's do it."
Ren lowered his center of gravity. His posture became even more relaxed, yet his
presence surged with a terrifying, jagged aggression. His eyes began to glow
with a faint, predatory light that left shimmering trails in the dark air as he
moved, as if the very space around him was warping.
"Get ready, Yanagi! I'm taking the gloves off. Everything I have, I'm throwing
at you right now!"
[SATSUI CHOICE] activated!
In this state, the "Surge of Murderous Intent" (Satsui no Hado) swirled within
him, whispering for him to dismantle the man before him until there was nothing
left to break.
To Yanagi, that killing intent felt physical, a cold blade pressed against his
throat. He couldn't believe it. A brat this young... can control his bloodlust
to this degree?!
Gulp—
Yanagi swallowed hard. His veteran instincts told him that this wouldn't be a
long, drawn-out war of attrition. This was going to be decided in a few
moves—perhaps even one.
Thinking fast, Yanagi let out a sinister chuckle.
"You seem focused on my Poison Hand, but as I said... I have much more dangerous
toys."
"The Whiplash."
Yanagi stood tall, trying to regain his psychological footing by projecting the
horror of his art.
"A whip is a far more terrifying weapon than people realize. In some parts of
the world, 'The Lash' is still a legal punishment. Most criminals die before
they reach the full count—not from blood loss, but from the sheer shock of the
pain."
Yanagi let his arms hang limp at his sides. They began to sway in the breeze,
appearing as if they had no bones at all.
"The back, the thighs—even non-vital areas. If you are struck by a 'Whip,' the
agony is so absolute that it forces the mind to abandon the will to live. No
matter how much happiness you plan for your future, once you've felt the Lash,
you will never think of anything but that pain again!"
Before the sentence was even finished—CRACK!
Yanagi whipped his right hand forward, his "Poison Hand" cutting through the air
like a mercury lash. The sonic boom echoed through the courtyard. It was an
"Ultra-High Speed" strike, nearly invisible to the naked eye.
"That is the Whiplash," Yanagi whispered, his face a mask of malice. "Like the
Poison Hand, it is a magnificent toy for killing. How does it feel, Shiroki?"
Ren actually took a moment to ponder the statement. Then, he snorted and burst
out laughing.
"It's... okay, I guess?"
He looked at the stunned Yanagi. "Yanagi, if you're talking about 'killing,' any
martial art can do that. I can use a spear-hand to collapse a throat. I can use
a punch to stop a heart. I can use a palm to shatter a skull."
Ren's voice dropped, becoming raspy and hollow, fueled by the Satsui no Hado.
"Yanagi, you have mastered so many techniques, yet your heart is so weak. Why?
It's because you treat your 'Tools' as your treasure. You don't rely on your
body—the body isn't driving the weapon; you've become a slave to the weapon."
"Right now, you're bragging about your 'Poison Hand' and your 'Whiplash' as if
they're external items you just happened to bring to the fight."
Ren's grin turned savage. "If all you're doing is showing off the weapon without
the spirit to drive it, you're a joke! You might as well go study nuclear
physics, Yanagi. The 'Kill-Count' would be way higher than your little whip!"
"You...!"
Yanagi's face turned a bruised shade of purple. Seeing that Ren's mental defense
was impenetrable, he decided to strike first. He lunged forward, his small frame
blurring through the night.
In the heartbeat before he reached Ren, Yanagi threw a dirty trick. He didn't
lead with the whip or the poison. He dug his left toe into the rain-dampened
sand.
"Hmph!"
With a sharp grunt, Yanagi kicked a massive spray of wet sand directly at Ren's
face.
Fwoosh!
A wall of grit and moisture flew toward Ren's eyes.
But Ren had anticipated the "Convict Style" of fighting. He shifted his weight,
maintaining his balance while executing a high-speed back-dash.
[DEE JAY: KEEP IT COOL]!
Zip—!
He retreated exactly far enough to stay out of the grit's path. His eyes
remained fixed forward, tracking Yanagi's every micro-movement through the dark.
Yanagi, his face contorted with rage, was already thrusting his right palm
forward, hoping to catch Ren as he finished his retreat.
Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over Ren. His consciousness flared,
ink-wash smoke swirled in his vision, and a new, aggressive voice barked in his
ear.
{Look at this guy...}
The phantom voice was cocky, modern, and brimming with aggression. It was Luke
Sullivan.
{He's got all that dangerous power, but he doesn't have the guts to own it. He's
just hiding behind his toys. That kind of attitude? It pisses me off. Knock his
lights out!}
Whoosh!
Before the voice even faded, Ren had already lunged back in. His movement was
light, fluid, and impossibly fast. He ducked beneath Yanagi's Poison Hand, their
silhouettes crossing for a fraction of a second.
"Hah—!"
Ren's right fist was already primed. As he threw the punch, he extended his
middle knuckle—the "Phoenix Eye" variation.
[LUKE: FLASH KNUCKLE]!
BOOM!
The lightning-fast punch caught Yanagi right in the face. The protruding knuckle
hit its mark with surgical precision, sinking directly into Yanagi Ryuko's right
eyeball.
SQUELCH—!
The eye imploded, a spray of vitreous fluid and blood erupting as the knuckle
buried itself deep into the socket.
☆☆☆
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