Chapter 412: Integration
"The barrage! Ren Shiroki's assault hasn't stopped!!"
Sayaka Katahara's eyes were wide as she witnessed the spray of crimson painting
the sand. Her voice was full of disbelief. "Despite losing the sight in his left
eye, Ren Shiroki is the one holding the frame-advantage!!"
"At 187 centimeters, he is literally driving the 177-centimeter Kosho Shinogi
off the ground! Kosho is being suspended in mid-air by the sheer volume of the
impact!! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!"
The crowd was equally stunned by the visual impact.
"It's the weight gap! The muscle density is too high!" "No way, a 20kg
difference shouldn't make a man fly like a ragdoll!" "Did the Cord-Cut fail?!"
"Shinogi is being pinned against the other side of the Pit!" "Look at all that
blood!!"
[The VIP Stands]
Katsumi Orochi rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. He muttered to the elders
beside him, "Say... does losing just one eye really have that much of an impact
on a fight? You can still see with the other one, right?"
It wasn't an idle question. He was sitting between two of the most famous
monocular masters in the history of the underground.
[THE BUSHIN] Doppo Orochi—lost his right eye to the Ogre. [THE SAINT OF WAR]
Gouki Shibukawa—lost his left eye to The Poison Hand, Yanagi Ryuko.
Shibukawa offered a mysterious, toothy grin. Doppo pouted, looking wounded.
"What's that supposed to mean, kid? Does the fact that your old man reached the
top with one eye mean nothing to you?"
"Pops, stop. That's not what I meant," Katsumi sighed. "I'm asking about the
technical reality. What does it feel like when the cord is cut mid-fight?"
Before Katsumi could finish his sentence—Zip!
Shibukawa's hand snapped out, covering Katsumi's left eye. Before the younger
Orochi could react, Shibukawa pulled his hand away—only to be replaced by Dr.
Kureha Shinogi's fist, which was stopped millimeters from Katsumi's nose.
"—?!"
Katsumi flinched, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "I see. I
get it now. It's the Brain Lag. The mind can't process the sudden loss of depth
perception in real-time."
"Exactly," Kureha nodded. "A veteran martial artist trains day and night to
command their body as a perfect machine. But because of that discipline, when a
'wire' is cut, the brain struggles to reboot the sensory input. It creates a
massive tactical opening in both offense and defense."
Shibukawa chuckled. "I went through hell adapting to the blind spot. For a
fighter used to binocular vision, losing an eye is a death sentence."
Kanoh Agito, watching from the edge of the section, narrowed his eyes. "Then how
is Shiroki handling it? He isn't showing any lag."
"The answer is Momentum," Doppo explained. "Ren-kun was already in the middle of
a winning sequence when the sight was cut. He didn't stop to think. He doubled
down on his advantage, using the high-volume barrage to ride out the
micro-seconds of his own blindness. He's forcing Kosho to play defense so he
doesn't have to."
As the legends spoke—BOOM!
Ren delivered a massive front-thrust kick, his foot burying into Kosho's
abdomen. The force launched the Cord-Cutter through the air. He sailed over the
wooden perimeter railing and crashed into a row of empty spectator seats.
CRASH!
Fortunately, the crowd was sparse enough that no one was crushed.
"SHINOGI HAS BEEN KICKED OUT OF THE PIT!!" Sayaka screamed into the mic. "A
trail of blood marks his trajectory! The floor is painted red! Can the
Cord-Cutter even crawl back from a hit like that?!"
"And look at Shiroki! The high-torque movement is preventing his own wounds from
closing! He's leaking blood at an alarming rate!!"
"Hah... hah...!"
Ren stood in the center of the Pit, gasping for air. Every inch of his body felt
like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. The blood slicking his skin
felt like a cold, sticky shroud.
And then there was the void. His left peripheral vision was a wall of ink. He
was forced to navigate the world through a single eye.
But strangely, despite the disadvantage, Ren felt like he was the one holding
the leash.
What is this feeling? What did I just grab onto? Shinogi-kun... don't let it end
here. I need to experience this for one more frame...
"—!!"
Movement from the stands. Kosho Shinogi groaned, rolling out of the shattered
chairs. He grabbed the railing with trembling hands, hoisting his body up before
flipping back over the wood and landing on the sand.
"HE'S BACK!" Sayaka shrieked. "BUT THE DAMAGE... LOOK AT HIS FACE!!"
The crowd gasped.
Kosho was hunched over, his frame shaking with tremors of exertion. He was
covered in bruises, but the most striking sight was his nose. Blood was pouring
from his nostrils like a twin faucet.
It wasn't a drip. It was a gusher.
The visual impact was every bit as horrific as Ren's shredded torso.
"They're both bleeding out!" Sayaka swallowed hard. "This is the reality of the
refined limb! A fist and a foot can be as sharp as a blade, and they carry the
weight of a sledgehammer!!"
Kosho felt the bridge of his nose throbbing with a pain so intense it made him
want to weep. A few stray tears of shock mixed with the blood on his cheeks.
"I won't... I won't let it end like this..."
He whispered the words to himself, his expression turning unnervingly calm. He
ignored the blood loss, his fighting spirit rising to a state of absolute,
frigid focus.
"Again!" Kosho hissed.
Ren bared his teeth in a grin. "Yeah. Again!"
Zip!
Kosho lunged side-on. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, thrusting a lethal
spear-hand toward Ren's throat.
But in that millisecond, Kosho felt a shiver of the uncanny. Ren's left arm
seemed to vanish into the air, as if it were a ghost that had never existed.
Amazing!
Before Kosho could react to the visual glitch, his world turned blurry.
[ED: PSYCHO FLICKER]!
WHISH—!
Ren's left hand, in a half-grip, snapped forward with the back of the knuckles.
It slammed into the center of Kosho's face.
BAM!
Kosho's head was snapped back, his spear-hand entry aborted mid-frame. The
fingers only grazed the outside of Ren's upper arm, leaving a shallow red line.
"Tsk...!"
Kosho narrowed his eyes, preparing a high-line roundhouse kick to regain the
initiative. But Ren was already a frame ahead. He executed a low sweep that
caught Kosho on the shin.
THUD!
It wasn't a power-kick, but it was perfectly timed. It shattered Kosho's base,
sending him crashing onto his backside.
"—?!"
Kosho stared up from the sand, his mind reeling.
Ren, however, had reached a moment of technical realization. He was synthesizing
his previous experiences into a singular combat principle.
Intercept the attack before it reaches terminal velocity. Disrupt the startup.
The name for it in the world of the 2D masters was: [COUNTER HIT] (打康)!
It was a fundamental concept seen in every combat sport, but to truly integrate
it into one's soul required a different level of understanding. The seeds
planted during his match with Saw Paing were finally blooming.
Kosho sat on the sand for a heartbeat. Ren stood tall, blinking his right eye,
still struggling with the monocular depth perception.
"Both men are heavily damaged, yet neither shows any sign of surrender!" Sayaka
watched, transfixed. "This is the Pit! As long as the Will remains, the frames
will continue to roll!"
"What is...?" Ren whispered to the air.
"Yeah... I feel it too..." Kosho muttered, his head hanging low.
Something was about to give. Something was on the verge of being born.
THUMP!
Kosho stomped the ground as he rose. His lead foot kicked up a spray of sand as
he reset his stance. He raised his hands to chest height, adopting his
razor-sharp slashing posture.
Ren pivoted his weight, his fists slowly closing.
The two were now in the "Pocket." They were standing so close they could feel
the heat radiating from each other's wounds.
Zip!
Kosho led the assault. His left finger-blade slashed diagonally downward while
his right spear-hand lunged forward. His lead toe touched the sand, ready to
fire a snap-kick at any moment.
Ren's right eye shimmered with a predatory, crimson light.
[SATSUI CHOICE]!
Clap!
Ren swatted Kosho's wrist aside with a palm-parry. He immediately stepped deeper
into the clinch, closing the distance so aggressively that Kosho didn't have the
space to extend his legs for a kick.
Thud-pop-thud-pop!
The two men entered a high-frequency close-quarters exchange. It was a blur of
technical violence. Blood splattered between them, but neither flinched. Their
movements were becoming leaner, sharper, and stripped of all unnecessary
"Noise."
"It's... it's too fast! I can't track the frames!!" Sayaka cried. "Strikes and
slashes are crossing in a matter of milliseconds! It's suffocating!!"
[The Stands]
"They've integrated..."
Doppo Orochi let out a long, admiring sigh. He clenched his own fists as he
spoke to the group.
"A 'Finishing Move' or a 'Secret Technique' only truly exists when it is
integrated into your very blood and bone. It shouldn't be something you 'try' to
perform. It should be something you simply are."
"Whether you're on the street or in the Pit, the art of 'Budo' is the ability to
call upon the right move at the right micro-second, accepting the result—be it
success or failure."
Doppo looked at the two shadows blurring in the ring.
"Ren and Kosho... they are using this war as a catalyst to reach that state.
They are no longer performing. They are Combat."
☆☆☆
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