Chapter 290: The Grand Theater Storm
"Ren-chin!"
The girl with the black-and-white eyes was the first to hoist a clenched fist.
Fusui Kure flashed a sharp, adorable grin, hopping in place as her excitement
hit a new peak.
Following her lead—ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!
Ringside, the crowd erupted into a wave of cheers, their roars acknowledging the
technical masterclass unfolding in the octagon. The heat in the plaza was now
indistinguishable from a major professional wrestling pay-per-view event.
Jose Kanzaki stared with vibrating pupils, his awe as a performer piqued.
"Ren-kun can actually control a crowd like this? A martial artist with that much
stage presence... he's incredible!"
"OOH—!!"
Ren Shiroki lowered his hoisted thumb, snapping his hand down to clamp firmly
onto Jaku Kaioh's waist.
Ren's core tightened, his hips providing the torque for a violent pivot. He used
his left arm to suppress Jaku's neck, spinning the master in a high-velocity
counter-clockwise rotation.
Zip-zip!
Jaku's footing was deleted. He stumbled and staggered, his world becoming a blur
of sand and sky.
"HYAH!"
Ren let out a sharp, rhythmic bark. He fired a series of rapid-fire knees, the
strikes tracking straight for Jaku's left ribs.
Jaku had no choice but to use his left elbow and right hand as a shield, his
form crumbling under the pressure. His face was a mask of crimson, his breathing
restricted by the vice-grip of Ren's arm around his throat.
Through the haze of pain, the cheers of the crowd reached his ears.
"REN! REN! REN!"
Of course... they are cheering for him.
Even I... I can't help it. I want to cheer for that confidence, that technical
brilliance, and that magnificent style!
The world is on your side, Ren-kun. I truly am outmatched—
Whoosh!
Ren realized the knee strikes weren't finding a clean vital and he didn't intend
to end the match with a mere choke. He released his grip, letting Jaku collapse
to his knees on the sand.
The Kure announcer chirped into the mic: "The grappling-throw exchange
continues! Does Jaku Kaioh still have the guts to answer the call?!"
The crowd's hunger for battle remained insatiable.
"..."
Jaku knelt in the sand, blood coating his mouth and nose. His pupils were
quivering, and the psychological weight of the suppression forced a single tear
of frustration from his eye.
This...
This feeling—it's magnificent!
THUD!
Jaku slapped the sand and stood up. He snorted a clot of blood from his nose,
dropping back into a bladed stance to face Ren. He was panting heavily, his
chest heaving.
He was covered in dirt, beaten bloody, and not a single soul in the plaza was
cheering for him—but it didn't matter. He didn't need their approval!
That isn't what I'm chasing!
Ringside, seeing Jaku prepare to charge again, Jose Kanzaki looked stunned.
"Whoa... that uncle has a hell of a lot of fight left in him!"
"Heh. The feeling is familiar, isn't it?"
Kugo Kurachi crossed his arms, staring at the ring. "Jose, have you ever watched
the tapes of my debut match?"
Jose paused, sensing a lesson. "I have, Senior."
"Exactly." Kurachi nodded. "In my generation, before social media and viral
highlights, we had to build our names on raw grit. To reach the top, we trained
until our blood literal pooled on the mats. We were beaten with bamboo swords,
kicked until we couldn't stand, and then forced back up again."
"When we finally debuted, we'd face a popular ace. When we beat them, the arena
wouldn't erupt in cheers. It would fall into a deathly, suffocating silence
because the crowd's favorite had lost."
"It's a lonely, crushing feeling. A wrestler only needs to experience it once to
understand the soul of the sport."
Kurachi's eyes crinkled. "But Jaku Kaioh is choosing to endure that weight right
now. He's fighting until the very end without a single ally in the stands.
Fantastic!!"
"SHINK!"
Jaku roared and lunged. His lead hand reached for Ren's right elbow, but Ren
adjusted his footwork, misaligning the grab. Jaku's trailing hand drove forward
to apply pressure, but Ren swatted it aside with a rising forearm.
Zip!
Ren seized Jaku's arm, hoisting him over his hip.
[RYU'S SHOULDER THROW]!
BANG!
Jaku hit the sand with a heavy thud, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
I want it too—
In his daze, Jaku performed a semi-kneeling pivot, performing a backward roll to
reset. He faced the advancing Ren, his inner monologue a frantic whisper.
I want to knock my enemy down with technical grace! I want to dismantle my
opponent with master-level composure! If I had the skill to win like that, I
would do it in a heartbeat!
—If only I were capable of it.
Jaku lunged forward again, only to be redirected and thrown once more. Ukemi
(Break-falling) was no longer enough; he was relying on his Gulag-hardened
physique to simply survive the impact of the earth.
Thud! Pow! Slap!
Jaku's mind continued to race.
My opponent is a genius whom even Retsu Kaioh praised. He's a superior fighter,
stronger even than the legends described!
I cannot win!
But a warrior—no, every human being—will eventually face a 'Battle' they cannot
run from. What do you do then? You give your everything!
If I can't throw him... then I will protect myself!
I will become an immovable object! I will use every trick to ensure I am not
defeated!
If I can stay standing, that is enough!
With that resolution, Jaku's movements shifted into something bizarre.
He dropped his center of gravity lower and lower until he was nearly flat
against the pavement. He settled into a kneeling posture, his body tightly
curled into a ball, hands protecting his head.
The "Turtle Shell" defense.
Using his lead foot to dig into the sand and his knees as pivots, Jaku began
sliding across the octagon like a hockey puck, his movements erratic and
unpredictable as he targeted Ren's shins and ankles.
Swish-zip-swish!
The display looked pathetic and cowardly, but it was tactically sound. By
bunching his limbs and lowering his height, he made it impossible for Ren to
secure a grip on his torso for a throw.
I see now—
Jaku glided forward, attempting to ram his shoulder into Ren's ankle. When he
missed, he immediately performed a high-speed roll to reset.
It looked ridiculous, but the tactical logic was sound. By minimizing his
surface area and keeping his weight grounded, he was negating Ren's grappling
advantage.
In a regulated wrestling match, this would be a severe foul. But here? It was a
street brawl.
My offensive output is zero, and I'm burning through my stamina... but if I had
fought him face-to-face, I'd be in a coma by now!
This is it: The Eye of Self-Preservation!
"URAAAH!"
Jaku lunged from his prone position, trying to trip Ren. After several rounds of
rolling and sliding, Ren suddenly performed a back-hop, creating a massive gap
and refusing to engage the "Turtle."
"Hah... Phew... Hah..."
Jaku knelt in his ball, panting heavily. He peeked through the gaps of his
elbows, a manic, toothy grin spreading across his face. "Did you give up,
Ren-kun?! Did you lose the heart to out-grapple me?!"
"If you use a strike to end this, then I'm the winner! Because you would be the
first one to break our rules! You—! IT WOULD BE YOU!!"
"..." "..."
The desperate shouting made the audience wince. The tension was gone, replaced
by a sense of awkward confusion. Jaku was being incredibly annoying.
Jose Kanzaki tightened his fists. "There are a lot of guys who use dirty tricks
to win... but a stubborn pest like this? This is a first for me!"
Gouki Shibukawa was having the time of his life, clapping and laughing at the
absurdity.
Suddenly, Kugo Kurachi noticed Ren's posture shift. His grin widened. "Haha! He
knows that one too?"
Ren Shiroki gave no verbal response.
Jaku grew suspicious. He lifted his head slightly to get a better look.
He saw Ren take a deep, steadying breath. Ren drove his foot into the sand and
launched forward. In a blur of speed, he closed the gap with the prone Jaku.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
WHOOSH!
Sensing the charge, Jaku prepared to slide away on his knees, but before he
could move, Ren's arms wrapped around him. Ren didn't go for a limb; he
performed a massive bear-hug, pinning the "Turtle" to the sand.
Jaku scrunched his body tighter, screaming, "Throw me then! Go ahead! It won't
work!"
As a Master of Grappling, Jaku knew that throwing a person who had no "Handles"
and was dead-weight was nearly impossible. Even if Ren succeeded, the lack of
leverage would minimize the damage.
Ren Shiroki didn't try a traditional throw. He drove his weight upward,
whispering in a low, hungry voice: "Technically, this counts as a throw. It just
takes a bit of raw torque. I've been meaning to test this out."
"And besides... Jaku-san, you're a lot lighter than you look."
Jaku: "..." Jaku: "―?!"
Before he could process the insult, Jaku—still in his ball-posture—was hoisted
off the ground. Ren performed a massive vertical heave, launching the master
into the sky.
A sense of weightlessness swallowed Jaku. His instincts screamed Danger.
This is bad—
Spinning in mid-air, the "Turtle" Jaku couldn't unfold his body fast enough. He
looked down to see Ren setting up his follow-through. Ren's arms were wide, his
fingers pointing toward the moon.
Everyone... watch me!
"SHINK!"
Ren's left hand centered the target while his right fist tightened, veins
bulging. He aimed for the descending Jaku, putting the torque of his entire body
into a massive horizontal lariat.
A PRO-WRESTLING CLOTHESLINE!
BANG!
The "Turtle" was violently "unfolded." Jaku's limbs were forced open by the
impact. He let out a pained groan and hit the sand, retching blood.
Ren didn't let him stay down. He reached down and seized Jaku's left wrist in a
vice-grip.
LIFT!
Lethal Secret Art— [ZANGIEF'S BOLSHOI STORM BUSTER]!!
ZIP!
Ren hauled Jaku up and draped him over his shoulder. He drove off the floor in a
massive vertical leap. Mid-air, he twisted his core like a localized tornado,
switching his grip into a crushing embrace that turned Jaku upside down.
KRA-KOOM—!!!
Ren and Jaku descended together. Ren hit the sand in a sitting posture, the
force of the high-angle powerbomb delivering Jaku head-first into the ring. A
massive shockwave rippled through the plaza, sending a wall of dust into the
air.
Jaku's eyes rolled back as he slipped into a deep, final unconsciousness.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the announcer's distant scream:
"THE MATCH IS DECIDED—!!!"
(End of Chapter)
☆☆☆
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