Chapter 368: The Alai Style of Combat
In Ren Shiroki's vision, the Soul Combat Hub was never meant to be a restrictive
traditional dojo. It was a modern Combat Center—a neutral ground for all
warriors.
Because of this, the Hub never turned away a fighter. Even if someone just
wanted to drop in for a chat, the doors were always open. While this didn't make
much sense from a cold business perspective, Ren loved the energy it brought.
Besides, with a growing list of heavyweight sponsors and corporate partners, he
didn't have to worry about the light bills anymore.
It was mid-morning when Baki Hanma and Mohammad Alai Jr. arrived, one after the
other. It was clear that Alai Jr. had spent his entire morning stalking Baki's
pace.
Whish—!
Ren tossed a fresh towel to Alai Jr.
"Thank you!"
Alai Jr. caught it with practiced ease, wiping the sweat from his brow before
draping it around his neck and smoothing back his damp hair.
The three of them—Ren, Baki, and Alai Jr.—gathered near the main entrance of the
Hub, some inside, some out, engaging in casual stretches. It was a remarkably
domestic scene for three of the most dangerous young men in Tokyo.
Baki looked at Alai Jr. with a serene expression. "You're persistent. You've
been glued to my heels from the moment I left my house until the return trip."
Alai Jr. smiled. "The place you just visited... it's called the Aokigahara
Forest, right?"
Baki shrugged.
Alai Jr. turned to Ren, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.
"Shiroki-san, did you know? Deep in that forest, there's an ancient tree called
'The Elder.' Its trunk is over ten meters wide!"
Ren continued stretching his deltoids. "Yeah, Baki-kun mentioned it to me."
Alai Jr. arched an eyebrow. "They say that's where Baki's journey truly
'began'."
Baki sighed, looking a bit helpless. "I thought you were going to follow me all
the way home."
"That was the original plan," Alai Jr. admitted, looking around the Hub's
interior. "But this place... it has a good vibe. I like it here."
His gaze drifted to a shelf near the equipment room, landing on a specific
decorative piece: a "punctured" coconut shell.
Alai Jr. chuckled. "Interesting decor. Is that modern ceramic art? Or some kind
of folk craft?"
Curious, Baki followed his gaze.
The coconut shell was riddled with several jagged holes. The milk had long since
been drained and the meat hollowed out. The entire thing had been carefully
waxed and preserved to prevent rot.
"—?"
Alai Jr. didn't know the story, but Baki recognized the "craftsmanship"
instantly. Those holes weren't made by a drill or a tool. They were made by
human teeth.
There was only one man Baki knew with that kind of bite force—his half-brother,
Jack Hanma.
Baki bared his teeth in a grin. "So Jack-aniki dropped by for a visit? Heh,
classic Jack style."
Ren, happy that someone appreciated his "trophy," put his hands on his hips.
"Right? I spent all afternoon drying and waxing it so it wouldn't attract bugs.
Nice. It's perfect!"
While Ren and Baki shared a laugh, Alai Jr. let out a polite, sharp cough to
reclaim the spotlight.
"Ahem!"
He drew their attention back to him, his expression turning sharp. "In any case,
I tried my best to keep up with Baki's cardio routine. It was... refreshing."
Baki's expression flattened. "You've said enough. Why are you here? What do you
want?"
Alai Jr. stood tall. At 190cm, he towered over the 171cm Baki and stood a
fraction taller than the 187cm Ren. He spoke a single name that carried the
weight of the world:
"Yujiro Hanma."
Baki's eyes flickered at the mention of his father, but his face remained a mask
of calm.
Alai Jr. walked over to the outdoor arena, stopping in front of a heavily
scarred, 150kg heavy bag.
"Years ago, the [STRONGEST CREATURE ON EARTH] met my father, Mohammad Alai."
"According to the Ogre himself, my father—the man the world worshiped as the
[GOD OF BOXING]—his true masterpiece wasn't boxing at all."
"More accurately, my father's ultimate goal wasn't to be a world heavyweight
champion. What he truly sought to master was a comprehensive system—a technique
to pre-read and neutralize all forms of attack. In other words: Combat."
Alai Jr. reached out, his fingers grazing the rough canvas of the bag.
"The style my father wanted to complete wasn't designed solely for the boxing
ring. It was a complete, free-form martial art."
"Strikes, kicks, throws, chokes—a style of battle that could adapt to any
situation on the planet!"
Alai Jr. went up on his toes, his feet beginning to move in a weightless,
rhythmic skip.
"In my father's defensive system, static blocks and low ducks were rare. They
were too specialized for boxing. Instead, back-steps and sways make up the vast
majority of the defensive architecture."
"Only these two movements allow a fighter to respond effectively to any
attack—not just a punch, but a kick, a tackle, or a blade!"
Alai Jr. looked up toward the ceiling.
"The dream my great father couldn't finish... I have completed it."
"Of course, words are cheap in our world. I want you to experience it for
yourself. The ** Mohammad Alai Style of Combat**. I want to show you exactly how
far I've taken it."
WHISH!
Alai Jr.'s left fist snapped forward, hitting the heavy bag with a sound like a
whip-crack. In a flash, a clean horizontal laceration appeared on the canvas—the
jab had sliced through the reinforced material as if it were a razor, just as it
had opened Adam Dudley's face.
Shhh-rip—!
The sand and filler began to leak out of the ruined bag.
Alai Jr. arched an eyebrow at Baki. "I want a duel."
Baki blinked.
Alai Jr. spread his arms. "You weren't there the other night, but Shiroki-san
witnessed it. I've tasted the 'Underground,' and I find it... acceptable. Since
there's an arena right here, let's settle it."
Baki fell silent for a long moment. Then, his voice dropped to a heavy, resonant
tone. "I refuse."
Alai Jr. looked genuinely confused.
Baki's expression became serene. "I don't fight you. In fact... I don't fight
anyone anymore. Except for one person."
Alai Jr. tilted his head. "And who is the lucky man?"
Baki looked toward the horizon. "It's not something I like to brag about. You
just mentioned him yourself. My 'Ugly Family Feud'."
Alai Jr. realized he meant Yujiro. He paused, his gaze softening with pity.
"You'll die, Baki."
"Maybe. But I'm going to do it anyway," Baki replied firmly. "If I only fought
because I could win, I wouldn't be a fighter. Who's stronger, who's weaker... I
don't care about those metrics anymore."
Alai Jr. looked at the road they had just run. "And yet, you train as if you
intend to be 'The Strongest'."
Baki gave a helpless, weary smile. "Well... the man holding the title is who he
is. Everyone knows it."
[THE STRONGEST CREATURE ON EARTH].
Alai Jr. nodded in understanding.
Seeing that the conversation was over, Baki tossed his towel back to Ren and
waved a casual goodbye. "Later."
Baki walked out of the Hub, leaving Alai Jr. standing alone amidst the wreckage
of the heavy bag.
Meanwhile, at the door of the Hub...
Ren, Fusui, Arisa, and Marco were all squeezed into the frame, their necks
craned as they watched the drama unfold with high-definition interest.
Alai Jr. turned back, looking a bit sheepish as he gestured toward the ruined
bag. "My apologies, Shiroki-san. I destroyed your equipment."
Ren shrugged. "Don't sweat it. Sandbags are meant to be hit. If they don't
break, they're just ornaments. I'll just patch it up."
Ren watched Baki's retreating silhouette and offered Alai Jr. a knowing grin.
"Besides, opponents dropping out of a fight happens all the time. It doesn't
change what you are, right?"
Alai Jr. didn't seem to hear him. He was still staring at Baki.
"Baki Hanma..." he whispered. "You will fight me. In fact, you'll be the one to
challenge me."
With that, Alai Jr. bid them farewell and departed.
Marco scratched his head, mumbling to himself. "That guy's punch was really
fast. But... Marco thinks it wasn't 'satisfying'?"
Ren slapped Marco on the back. "Right?! I felt the same thing!"
He teased Marco for a bit before telling Arisa to get back to her homework.
Then, he led Marco to the weight room for their afternoon set.
That evening.
An old friend of the Hub—[THE FREAK] Mitsuyo Kureishi—dropped by for a visit.
Kureishi had just won a local MMA bout and pocketed a decent purse. Having heard
that Ren had also won his match in the Pit, he was in a celebratory mood. He
practically dragged Ren out the door to go grab some late-night soul food.
☆☆☆
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