Chapter 356: The So-Called Prayer...
"Pardon the intrusion, Shiroki-kun."
Tokugawa called out with a cheerful wave, gesturing toward the young man beside
him. "He heard you were fighting in the second slot and suddenly insisted on
meeting you. I hope we aren't interrupting your warm-up?"
Ren Shiroki offered a welcoming grin. "Not at all. I like it when things get
rowdy."
Alai Jr. stepped forward, extending his hand once again. "Good evening,
Shiroki-san."
The young man smiled, his eyes scanning Ren's physique. Ren was currently
bare-chested and barefoot, his skin a map of scars earned from various
battlefields. A few were particularly deep—specifically the one on his right
calf.
That patch of skin had been nearly pulverized by Kaoru Hanayama's [GRIP
SQUEEZE]. Though it had healed weeks ago, the jagged scar remained a permanent
testament to the Otokodachi's power. Alai Jr. didn't know the origin of the
wound, but he could tell it had been excruciating.
"I was right before," Alai Jr. praised as they shook hands. "Shiroki-san, your
Combat Aura... it's even more intense than when we first met!"
It wasn't a provocation; it was a simple, direct "American-style" compliment.
Ren laughed and the two engaged in casual small talk.
Alai Jr. looked around the spacious room and made a proposal to Tokugawa. "Since
we're here, and this room is big enough, why don't I just do my warm-up here
too?"
Tokugawa glanced at Ren. "Is that alright?"
Ren nodded. "Like I said, I like the company. This feels perfect."
"Thank you!"
Alai Jr. walked further in, greeting the waiting Mitarai and nodding to Fusui
Kure. He stepped into the changing partition, and when he emerged, he had shed
his casual clothes.
He wore professional boxing shoes and standard fighting shorts. Draped over his
shoulders was a white "Magic Cloak"—a heavy, towel-like hooded robe common among
pro boxers to manage sweat and maintain core temperature. He opened his duffel
bag and began meticulously wrapping his hands with athletic tape.
On the other side of the room, Tokugawa had happily spread out a mat to sit next
to Fusui.
The old man sighed in contentment. "My, my... two major matches in a row, both
with top-tier talent. Tonight is going to be one for the books!"
Fusui blinked her black-and-white eyes, her expression a mix of amusement and
exhaustion. Among the elders of the underground world, Erioh Kure had a clan to
manage, and Metsudo Katahara had a corporate empire to run. Tokugawa, by
comparison, was a total free spirit—a "Combat Fanatic" who lived only to see
legends collide.
"Is this a standard match? Or part of the Kengan Annihilation Street Brawl?"
Fusui asked.
"The former. Think of it as a 'Welcome Bout'," Tokugawa replied. "But the
opponent was indeed introduced by a Kengan Association member and is a
registered participant in the Street Brawl."
The old man chuckled, leaning on his knees. "Regardless, when you put the name
'Mohammad Alai' on a marquee, challengers tend to crawl out of the woodwork!"
Fusui could only nod. She leaned her head on her hand, her cheek squished into a
"pout," and tossed a water bottle to Ren.
Alai Jr. finished his hand wraps and gave his belt a sharp pat.
Slap!
He took a position at the edge of the room. Relaxing his frame, he suddenly
exploded into motion. His shoes screeched against the tiles—Screee!—as his feet
blurred in a series of high-speed shuffles. His fists cut through the air,
creating a rhythmic staccato of whoosh-whoosh sounds.
The white Magic Cloak billowed and snapped behind him, following his movements
like a living shadow. The lines of his movement were fluid, flashy, and
undeniably elegant.
It was a boxing warm-up, but it was unique. Compared to [THE GOD OF WAR]
Gaolang, Alai Jr.'s style was entirely its own—a different school of kinetic
grace.
Zip—!
Whish-thud-thud!
He continued the flurry until a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. Only then
did he stop, exhaling a slow, steady cloud of heat. He looked peak.
"Tokugawa-sama, thank you," Alai Jr. smiled. "To show my gratitude for your
hospitality, I will give this match everything I have."
Tokugawa gave a faint, knowing smile. "It is my mission to facilitate the
meeting of titans. I never refuse a request like that."
"By the way..." Tokugawa's eyes twinkled with mischief. He looked at Alai Jr.
"Having met him twice now... what do you think of the [SOUL COMBATANT] Ren
Shiroki?"
The implication was clear: Do you want to fight him next?
Ren paused his stretching, curious to hear the answer.
Alai Jr. thought about it for a moment, then gave a completely unexpected
response.
"Tokugawa-sama... I have no interest in Mr. Shiroki."
"In fact, I have no interest in my opponent tonight either."
Alai Jr.'s expression turned solemn. "I am participating tonight solely to
obtain a 'Ticket' to the underground. My target, from the very beginning, has
been Baki Hanma."
"I will face him in a duel. I will defeat him. I will win. I will prove that I
am the No. 1. That is all."
Tokugawa paused, his expression turning peculiar, as if he found the answer
slightly "off."
"Is that so...?" Tokugawa's gaze shifted to Ren, a teasing grin appearing. "Did
you hear that, Shiroki-kun? You aren't even being considered a rival! Hehe!
Someone's eyes are fixed on the Champion; you aren't 'qualified' yet!"
Ren's face went rigid for a heartbeat. He let out a muffled snort, which evolved
into a chuckle, and finally, he burst into a full-throated laugh.
"Puh—Hahahaha!"
He wiped a tear from his eye, looking at the old man. "Jiisan, you really are a
master of fanning the flames, aren't you?"
Tokugawa crossed his arms, looking smug. "What? Is it working?"
"Oh, it's working fine! Hahaha!"
Ren turned back to Alai Jr. The tall, long-limbed boxer didn't look like he was
trying to be insulting; he was simply being honest. He looked slightly
apologetic.
"Sorry. I didn't mean it as a provocation. I'm just stating my conviction."
Ren smiled. "I can hear that. I wish you luck, even if you're aiming for
Baki-kun."
"However," Ren's tone shifted. "Even if you have a clear goal, you might find
the 'Process' more enjoyable if you pay attention to it."
Alai Jr. gave a frank laugh. "As you can see, I am enjoying myself. Can't you
tell?"
He raised an eyebrow. "The 'Mohammad Alai Martial Arts' that my father intended
to complete... I have finished the work. And now, I am going to use it."
Ren didn't comment. Alai Jr. didn't need his validation. The boxer turned his
attention back to Tokugawa.
"Tokugawa-sama, I heard my opponent tonight comes from the Kengan Association."
"I may not be interested in the man, but I like that name. Kengan."
"To entrust one's 'Long-cherished Wish' (Gan) to the 'Fist of a Fighter' (Ken).
Kengan."
Alai Jr. clenched his fist, looking at the group with a gaze that was both
determined and almost pious.
"Do you know what a 'Prayer' is?"
"A prayer isn't about fantasizing that a supernatural miracle will happen."
"It is the resolution to make that wish a reality by your own hands!"
[Tokyo Dome Underground Arena—The Pit]
Thousands of spectators were packed into the stands. The atmosphere was
electric, the roar of the crowd like a physical weight in the air.
"IT'S HERE! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!"
The announcer gripped his microphone, his voice booming through the speakers.
"Entering from the Blue Dragon Gate! The Son of God makes his debut!"
"This is not a boxing match! This is a martial art! The Mohammad Alai Style of
Combat! Making its first appearance in the Pit!"
"MOHAMMAD ALAI JR.!!!"
Alai Jr. stepped into the arena, having shed his Magic Cloak. Standing in only
his shorts, his muscular definition was staggering. His shoulders, arms, and
back were a masterclass in functional anatomy. His biceps and deltoids, while
not overly bulky, looked like they were made of high-tension industrial rubber,
vibrating with explosive potential.
He looked every bit the superstar.
The announcer took a deep breath, his voice reaching a fever pitch. "And his
opponent tonight! Also hailing from the USA! A man who has 'repaired' the faces
of countless victims! A warrior who fears no one!"
"The King of Brawling from the Great State of Texas!"
"The man they call [THE EMPEROR]—ADAM DUDLEY!!!"
☆☆☆
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