Kashima Osamu was a student of Class 3-A and the president of the Judo club. He had a burly physique, which made him look intimidating. People often misunderstood him to be a short-tempered delinquent, but in reality, he was calm, collected, and quite intelligent as well.
Right now, Osamu was in quite a predicament.
A rather audacious first-year had called him a weakling and challenged him to a fight — in front of the whole school, at that.
Osamu knew very well that this was a trap. No sane person would challenge him to a losing fight in front of the entire school.
He knew that this was all a ploy to earn private points.
But there was nothing he could do.
If Akira had challenged him in private, he could've just made any random excuse to avoid betting private points.
Clearly, Akira was well aware of that, so he challenged him in front of the whole school. Now, his reputation was on the line.
Japan was a country where seniority was often determined by age. Senpai-Kouhai — these weren't just plain titles used to refer to a person; they were societal contracts.
He couldn't say no to this challenge. It wasn't just about reputation; he had his own pride as well.
He also couldn't say that he needed those points for his class in front of all the first-years. There was a special exam going on for the freshmen, and the school had strictly informed all senior students that they were not to pass any information about the S-system to them.
If he said that he couldn't pay because he needed those points to support his class in the special exams, it would count as breaking the rules — and he'd be expelled.
Maybe he should ask Horikita Manabu for help? No, if Manabu could intervene, he would've never let Akira finish his declaration in the first place.
'Kazama must've made some preparations beforehand,' he thought.
Sigh.
Akira had put him on the spot here. Backing out would cost him his reputation, and accepting the challenge meant wagering his private points.
There was no other choice.
He'd have to fight.
He looked at the presidents of the Karate and Aikido clubs and thought about letting them go first.
There were two reasons for this: First, even if Akira was trained, fighting two martial artists should tire him out. Second, Osamu wanted to gauge Akira's fighting style and level — he'd be able to use that to his advantage then.
Beep.
A notification sound played from his phone. Osamu had placed his phone on silent for the club fair. There was only one person whose contact would still be notified to him.
Horikita Manabu.
He checked the message, hoping for some good news — but instead of that, Horikita Manabu had asked him to fight Akira first.
This was confusing. Isn't it obviously better to fight him later?
Osamu thought for a few seconds about why Manabu would ask him to fight Akira first instead of last, but couldn't come to a plausible conjecture.
"Looks like the seniors are scared!"
"Maybe they really are incompetent."
"Ha ha ha ha!"
The crowd started hurling comments at them. Clearly, they were getting impatient and wanted some action.
Humans loved conflict.
Whether it was verbal or physical, if some sort of confrontation between two people was happening, then humans would divert all their attention towards them.
It is in their nature.
And such a situation to boot? A freshman challenging seniors to a martial arts fight?
No matter who wins — whether it's Akira or any other senior — they knew that they were in for a good show, and that's all they wanted.
Osamu walked up to the stage. He trusted Manabu's judgment over his own. This was a trust formed over the last two years of Manabu maintaining their class position.
"You're sure you want to do this, Kazama?" His voice was steady, but there was steel behind it. "My family runs a dojo. I've trained in Judo since childhood."
"We're already at a point of no return, Senpai. Let's have our fists do the talking now."
"Hmph. Prepare yourself then. I won't be holding anything back."
Osamu really wanted to wipe that smug smile off Akira's face more than anything.
"Likewise."
Akira and Osamu stood about two feet apart from each other. All eyes from the crowd were fixed on them. Some students in the crowd were already placing bets with each other on who they believed was going to win.
"So what're the rules then?" Osamu asked Akira.
"The rules are simple. First one on the ground loses."
"And the referee?"
If someone from Akira's class was chosen as the referee, Osamu could interject and call it an unfair ploy to steal points from senior students.
"I've got one right here."
Sae Chabashira walked up to the stage. Akira had paid her private points to act as the referee.
"I'll say this once. Any form of cheating or lethal attacks will cause you detention at best and expulsion at worst. Attacks directed at the eyes, groin, and solar plexus are forbidden.
"There will only be a single round, and the person who falls on the ground first will lose.
"If Kazama of Class 1-D is to lose, he'll have to pay all his private points to Osamu. If Osamu of Class 3-A is to lose, he'll have to match the bet.
"Are you two familiar with these rules?"
They both nodded.
"Now, 3, 2, 1 — begin!"
Osamu stepped in cautiously, keeping a solid stance, feet grounded.
Akira didn't move and just stood there silently.
He was confident that he could win against any martial artist in this world in a fight. Well, it was more like he was confident that Shang-Chi could win against any martial artist in this world.
Shang-Chi was a martial arts prodigy, brutally and extensively trained by his father.
In Marvel Comics, he is said to be the best hand-to-hand fighter — surpassing even the likes of Iron Fist, Black Panther, and Daredevil when it came to martial arts.
He had fought thousands of battles against all kinds of opponents in all kinds of situations. Now, all of that experience was Akira's.
There was absolutely no way he'd lose to anyone.
This is without even counting him maxing out his stats. He's basically a superhuman now.
Osamu might think he has a chance — but even if he devoted the rest of his life to Judo, he'd still lose.
Akira simply is a cheat, and he found no shame in admitting it either.
Finding his opportunity, Osamu lunged forward.
A sharp, controlled grab toward Akira's collar — his specialty. He planned to use his size and strength to throw the boy over his shoulder, ending the match under ten seconds.
With fluid grace, Akira twisted sideways, ducking under the grasp, and brought his foot up — not for a kick, but a subtle nudge against Osamu's rear ankle. Just enough to shift his center of gravity.
Osamu stumbled and fell.
Akira could've gone for a flashy performance, showing off moves these guys would find impossible to do. But instead, he chose to go for the quickest and easiest way to defeat his opponent.
The schoolyard, once roaring with excitement, now stood frozen.
Osamu lay on the ground.
The crowd erupted — not with excitement but with dissatisfaction.
"Boo!"
"Is this it? Hah, the Judo club is nothing special then."
"He didn't put up a fight. Just tumbled over and fell pathetically."
"Give me my money back!"
From the crowd's perspective, it indeed felt like Osamu came to grab Akira and just tripped. Clearly, they were dissatisfied for not getting their 'flashy fight.'
Chabashira raised her hand. "Winner: Akira Kazama."
Osamu sat up slowly, disbelief still etched across his face. He wasn't like the spectators — he knew what had just happened. Akira had managed to win the fight in the most efficient way possible.
To him, it felt like the work of a master.
What the hell is this guy…?
Osamu just stood still, looking at the crowd hurling insults at him… Today was a terrible day for him.
"It was a good fight, Senpai. Please deposit about 310,078 private points to this number."
Wait, 300,000? Aren't freshmen supposed to have 100,000 private points?
"Where did you get 300,000 points from?"
"That's none of your business, Senpai. You just need to pay me the amount of points I have."
Osamu was sure that there was someone pulling the strings behind Akira, but now wasn't the time to think about that. He reluctantly pulled out his phone and deposited the promised amount to Akira.
620,156 pp.
Akira looked at the number of points he had in satisfaction as Osamu walked away from the stage.
Osamu now understood why Manabu had prompted him to go first.
It was because the wager was lowest at the start. The next person to lose would have to give 600,000 private points. And the person after that would have to bet 1.2 million!
They probably don't even have that many points.
Horikita Manabu, from the start, knew that he would lose. Osamu felt quite bitter learning that — but forget it, at least he managed to keep cumber his loses.