CHAPTER 146: OVERCOMING THE FLAW
"Ugh... BLEH!"
Ren Shiroki gritted his teeth, but he couldn't stop the violent convulsion of his stomach. He coughed up strings of translucent fluid, his knees buckling.
The only saving grace was the lack of blood in the bile. It meant his internal organs had taken a massive concussive shock, but hadn't ruptured.
...Yet.
"I really couldn't bring you down without this move," Kureha Shinogi noted, his expression clinical and cold. He didn't let up. He stalked forward, staying inches away from the retching Ren.
He held up his right hand, splaying his fingers.
"A light tap with the knuckle to a specific point on the interior of the elbow causes temporary neural paralysis. It's harder than a simple eye-gouge, but as an initial 'Surprise Entry,' it's nearly 100% effective."
"And then... a palm-push from a 30-degree upward angle creates a harmonic vibration in the stomach lining. Instant incapacitation."
As Kureha spoke, his fingers shifted into a "Half-Palm" strike. He blurred to the side. ZIP!
BAM!
The tips of his four fingers buried themselves deep under Ren's ribcage. The sight was sickening; it looked like the doctor was reaching inside Ren's chest.
"GAH—!"
Ren clutched his side and threw himself backward, his boots skidding through the sand. He hit the wooden railing and stood there trembling, his face twisted in a mask of agony.
"By the same logic," Kureha continued, "a strike to the right ribs at a 60-degree angle makes the liver quite... unhappy."
These two strikes didn't look flashy. They didn't have the roar of a sonic boom. But they were devastatingly effective.
Nozomi Tenma watched with wide, trembling eyes. "Senpai... what just happened? Ren-kun is falling apart!"
Mitsuyo Kureishi rubbed his chin. "Anyone who studies the 'Might' of the body eventually runs into Anatomy."
"Some learn it through talent, some from a master's scroll, and some through the trial-and-error of the pits. Take me—my knowledge of the skeleton is better than most orthopedic surgeons. That's why I can break bones so efficiently."
"But Kureha Shinogi? He is a Master of the Vessel. He knows exactly where the circuit breakers are. He's not fighting Ren-kun's spirit; he's attacking his hardware."
Kosho Shinogi nodded proudly. "Well put, Pinky. My Ani-ki perfected his 'Anatomical Demolition' years ago. Even Baki struggled against it."
Kosho looked at Baki Hanma, but the Champion was silent, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the ring.
"No, it's different," Baki murmured, lost in thought. "When I fought him, Kureha had to grapple me first. He needed the 'Clinch' to find the precision points."
"But those two punches just now... he didn't need to hold him. That wasn't just a doctor's trick."
"Baki is right," Doppo Orochi added with a grin.
"Just as Kosho perfected his 'Cord-Cutter' style after the tournament, Kureha has updated his 'Demolition' software."
WHOOSH!
Doppo threw a shadow-punch for emphasis.
"When it comes to breaking a man, I usually recommend Karate. But empty-hand combat requires two things: hitting the Right Spot and hitting it the Right Way. If your posture is off, the power dissipates."
"When Kureha fought Baki, he had a fatal flaw."
"Despite his god-like muscle, his attacks were all 'Telephones.'"
The Telephoned Strike. An amateur's error where the wind-up is so large the opponent can "hear" the punch coming from a mile away.
"Baki just had to slip the impact by an inch at the moment of contact, and the 'Demolition' became a common massage. It was useless."
"To fix that, Kureha used to rely on grapples to pin his target. But look at him now."
Doppo gestured to the ring.
"He isn't using 'Grapple-into-Strike.' He's using 'Strike-into-Strike.' He's used his elite speed and medical knowledge to break the guard with the first hit and deliver the killing blow with the second. He's eliminated the wind-up. His Demolition is finally... Perfect."
Baki looked at Kosho and smirked. "You Shinogi brothers are annoying. You just keep evolving to chase each other. It's enough to make a guy jealous."
"Hah! You're one to talk, Hanma!" Kosho barked, but he didn't look away from the pit.
Kureha stood with his arms raised, his fingers constantly twitching—shifting from a fist to a palm, to a single-knuckle projection. He looked like a surgeon standing over an operating table, meticulously choosing the right scalpel for the next incision.
The "Mighty Body" was now a "Scientific Weapon."
Kosho's fists tightened. Ani-ki... you really did it. You found your own path.
Baki nudged him. "Don't get too sentimental, Kosho-kun. The match isn't over. I think Ren-kun is about to start his counter-offensive."
Ren Shiroki was being hunted. He retreated step-by-step, his defense being picked apart by Kureha's precision.
Agony. Vertigo. Nausea. Numbness.
The biological markers of defeat were flooding his brain. His vision was beginning to vignette into a tunnel of dark ink.
The only things left in his world were Kureha... and the phantoms of his masters.
The shadows were gathered at the edge of the pit, discussing a memory.
Ren recalled his talk with the delinquent captain, Chiharu Shiba.
"If you face a monster with a 'Perfect Body,' how do you fight?"
"I'd just keep hitting him until one of us died. Obviously."
What a wonderfully simple, stupid answer, Ren thought.
The phantom of Luke leaned against the wooden fence, beckoning to Ren.
[The first rule of the street, kid? Don't hesitate. Stop looking for the 'Correct' move. Just be confident and Throw the damn punch!]
TAP.
Ren's foot hit the sand and stopped. He anchored his rear leg. He tightened his right fist and pulled his elbow back to its terminal anatomical limit.
It was a move with a massive opening—a total "Telephone." Kureha didn't miss it.
ZIP!
The doctor lunged with a Liver-Thrust palm aimed under Ren's ribs. His knuckles sank into the skin. It should have been a fight-ender.
But Ren Shiroki's face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated "Guts." He manual-overrode the agony and converted the pain into pure kinetic torque. He launched a heavy straight.
THUD.
Kureha executed a side-slip, catching the strike on his massive left deltoid. He redirected the force, minimizing the damage.
He followed through with an upward palm-strike to Ren's stomach.
But Ren didn't retreat. He pulled his right arm back again. He ignored the second hit to his gut and launched a second punch with even more weight.
BOOM!!
Kureha blocked with his left arm again. He had plenty of reaction time, but he felt a twinge of unease. Something is weird...
Before he could parse the feeling, Ren's fist was already chambered for the third time.
Kureha was forced into a reactive cycle. He couldn't advance without clearing the lead hand. He raised his arm to defend once more as Ren's third punch arrived.
"SEI—YAH!"
THOOM!!!
The third punch slammed into the exact same spot on Kureha's left bicep.
[ZANGIEF: SIBERIAN STRAIGHT]!
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