"He made the Top 8. That kid's actually got some real talent," the middle-aged man to Gen Ijichi's right remarked, pushing up his sunglasses as he watched the previous match conclude.
"Bah, he's just one of eight. He could be out by the next round," the old-timer on Gen's left spat dismissively. "That kid with the headband and the one with the band-aid look just as good, if not better, than your Hasegumo."
"Don't count him out yet. Hasegumo hasn't even shown his full strength," Gen said, maintaining a mask of cool indifference. In reality, he was a nervous wreck, his palms sweating so much he had to wipe them on his knees. Come on, kid, he pleaded silently. You have to win this.
"The next match will be between—"
"The Prince of Kicks, Kyogoku Makoto!"
"Versus—"
"The modern successor to Miyamoto Musashi, the world's greatest swordsman, international fencing champion, and the strongest practitioner of Niten Ichi-ryu in history: Kumaya Kenshin!"
"A quick reminder: as this is a martial arts tournament, Participant Kumaya is forbidden from using a weapon. Which of these two will claim victory and advance to the Final Four?"
"Let's find out!"
The two fighters took their places in the ring.
On the left stood Kyogoku Makoto: 185cm (6'1"), dressed in a crisp suit, wearing glasses, and sporting a single band-aid on the left side of his forehead. He looked less like a fighter and more like a high-end corporate consultant who had wandered onto the wrong stage.
On the right was Kumaya Kenshin: a middle-aged man barely 160cm (5'3"), wearing a loose t-shirt and rubber flip-flops. He had a red cloth tied around his forehead emblazoned with characters like "Guts" and other vaguely motivational nonsense.
At a glance, they were an odd pair—one looked like a white-collar worker, the other like an old man out for a morning stroll. However, in the eyes of the audience, they couldn't be more different.
You see, while Kumaya Kenshin was introduced with a laundry list of grand titles and accolades, Kyogoku Makoto needed only his name. At just twenty-four, he was the defending champion of the last tournament, boasting sixteen consecutive wins against the world's elite. More impressively, he was a living legend in the world of Karate with a record of four hundred wins and zero losses.
Watching from the sidelines, Hasegumo spotted the "blind spot" immediately.
Are you kidding me? he thought, staring at the "swordsman" in the ring. That guy is that same old man who was cheating with Cursed Energy earlier. How did he make it to the Top 8 without getting caught? Is Uncle Gen's group really that incompetent? Is no one policing the use of Cursed Energy in this thing?
What Hasegumo didn't realize was that the tournament was actually a "fishing trip." With the number of Cursed Spirits rising globally, many "wild" sorcerers existed outside the knowledge of the Jujutsu Association. The Association used high-profile events like this as a dragnet. If an unregistered sorcerer was caught using energy, they would be covertly investigated. If they were peaceful, they'd be recruited; if they were dangerous, they'd be classified as Curse Users and dealt with.
The match didn't start with an explosion of violence. Instead, the two men circled, testing the "Ma-ai"—the engagement distance—with feints and low-stakes probes.
After a few sets of jabs, Makoto felt he had the measure of the man. With his superior height and reach, as long as he kept the distance and didn't let Kenshin get inside for a clinch or a "phone booth" fight, victory was inevitable.
Yet, Makoto didn't rush. Out of the pride of a champion, he remained in a classic Karate Neko-ashi dachi (Cat Stance), poised and waiting for the challenger to make the first move.
Kenshin clearly knew he was at a reach disadvantage. He used quick footwork and a style reminiscent of Wing Chun, trying to bridge the gap and get close. But Makoto was the greatest Karate master in Japan for a reason; he read Kenshin's intentions like an open book. Every time Kenshin tried to lunge, he was met with a heavy straight punch or a crushing low kick.
Within thirty seconds, Kenshin had eaten two solid punches. He hadn't landed a single hit in return. The dull ache in his ribs and gut told him he wouldn't survive a third.
Then, Kenshin did something that baffled the entire arena.
He dropped low with a sweep, forcing Makoto to check his kick and step back. In that split second of space, Kenshin retreated. He placed his empty left hand near his waist as if gripping a scabbard and hovered his right hand above it.
"Participant Kumaya has forced a reset, but he's still on the defensive!" the announcer shouted, though his voice wavered. "Wait... what is that stance? Is he...?"
Even the professional commentator was stumped. The pose was utterly abstract in a hand-to-hand fight.
"Is this the ultimate secret of Niten Ichi-ryu? No sword in the hand, but a sword in the soul?" the announcer improvised, grasping at straws.
Kenshin ignored the noise. He lunged forward, and from a distance where it was physically impossible to touch Makoto, he whipped his right hand forward in a slashing motion.
"Niten Ichi-ryu: Invisible Sword Qi—Iai One-Sword Slash!"
Kyogoku Makoto, a man with zero knowledge of jujutsu, felt a surge of confusion. Can someone really manifest a blade out of thin air? But a man who had spent his life honing his body wasn't going to be scared off by a magic trick. He charged forward, intending to end the performance with a decisive strike.
Wait, look out! Hasegumo's eyes widened. He saw what the audience couldn't: Kenshin's right hand was a distraction. It had zero energy. But his left hand, still tucked at his waist, was condensed with a massive, volatile amount of Cursed Energy.
It happened in the space between heartbeats. Just as Makoto moved to strike, a primal sense of "Danger" screamed in his brain.
Left. Dodge left! Makoto's instinct yelled. You won't make it, Kenshin thought grimly.
Kenshin's left thumb flicked out in a subtle, hidden motion. A needle-thin beam of hyper-compressed Cursed Energy shot out like a laser, aimed directly at Makoto's head.
But Makoto's martial prowess bordered on the supernatural. He didn't see the energy, but his body "read" the intent. He jerked his head to the right an instant before the beam arrived. The laser grazed the skin just below his left earlobe.
Drip. Drip.
Blood trickled down his neck. Makoto stood perfectly still, his defensive posture unbroken, though his expression was now one of deadly seriousness. He couldn't see what had hit him, but he felt the heat of it passing his ear.
"What was that? A hidden projectile?" Makoto asked, his voice low. "It was so fast I couldn't even see it."
"Something like that," Kenshin sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked at the champion with a mix of awe and frustration. Then, he raised his hand toward the referee. "I forfeit. I give up."
"I... Participant Kumaya has manifest—wait, he's forfeiting?" The referee scrambled to keep up. "Winner: Kyogoku Makoto!"
The arena exploded into a deafening roar. Thousands of fans and gamblers who had bet on the "Unbeatable Legend" screamed until they were hoarse. Hasegumo winced at the noise, his ears ringing.
The discussion about Kenshin's "invisible blade" was instantly drowned out by the celebration, but Hasegumo remained shaken. A Cursed Energy laser? And that guy dodged it without even being a sorcerer? What kind of monster is Kyogoku Makoto? His martial state might actually be higher than mine.
Meanwhile, Kumaya Kenshin was making a break for the exit when he found his path blocked.
Gen Ijichi stood at the back door of the athletes' area, flanked by the white-bearded elder and the man in sunglasses. As the two men stepped forward, a crushing wave of Cursed Energy washed over the hallway. The sheer pressure made Kenshin freeze in his tracks.
"Have you ever used your technique to kill someone?" Gen asked coldly.
Kenshin blinked, looking between the three men. The "Yakuza" look of the man in sunglasses and the "Buddha" aura of the elder made it clear these weren't ordinary people.
"No! I just use it to win prize money! That's not a crime, is it?"
"The Jujutsu Association oversees all sorcerers," Gen said, leaning into the authority of the two powerhouses beside him. "Using techniques against civilians is a direct violation of our regulations."
"You're coming with us to headquarters for an investigation. Once we confirm you aren't a threat, you'll be free to go."
Kenshin looked at the two "monsters" flanking Gen and realized he didn't have a choice. "Fine... fine. Look, that shot earlier was just meant to knock him out, not kill him. I'm not a murderer."
"The Association will be the judge of that," Gen said, turning to lead the way.
The "World's Strongest Swordsman" could only follow meekly, sandwiched between two elite sorcerers as they headed back to the stands to watch the rest of the matches.