Chapter 350: The God of Boxing
[Tokugawa Estate—Front Courtyard]
On the way to the guest wing, Tokugawa walked side-by-side with Alai Jr., while
Hideaki Kanoh followed a respectful pace behind. As the Captain of the Guard,
Kanoh didn't strictly need to escort them, but like anyone in the presence of
greatness, he couldn't help but want a better look at this "guest."
The young man was of African descent, with bronze skin and a towering height of
roughly 190cm (6'3"). He had a lean, lithe build with corded, functional muscle.
His casual athletic gear faintly traced the powerful contours of his back. His
hair was kept short and neat, his eyes were sharp, and he wore a smile of
supreme confidence.
His name: Mohammad Alai Jr.
"Jr."—meaning the second of his name. His father was the greatest pugilist of
the 20th century—Mohammad Alai.
Anyone who had ever even glanced at the word "Sports" knew the name Alai.
The man had won Olympic gold, only to declare it worthless, toss it into a
river, and throw himself into the shark tank of professional boxing. Before his
matches, he would bury his opponents under a mountain of insults and
psychological warfare. Through these unprecedented, manic performances, he stood
out, shining brilliantly under the glare of the media spotlight.
He would make shocking KO predictions, causing massive uproars—and then he would
make every single word come true.
His footwork was so fluid it was like a butterfly dancing across the ring; fans
dubbed it the "Butterfly Step." His hand speed, his power, his evasion, his
reflexes—all of it redefined what it meant to be a "God of Boxing."
His conviction was just as ironclad. To protest an unjust war, he publicly
refused military service, challenging the might of a superpower. He was stripped
of his titles and forced out of the ring for over three years at the peak of his
career. Yet, upon his return, Alai miraculously reclaimed his throne—not once,
but three times.
Mohammad Alai—a man who used nothing but a pair of fists to accumulate vast
wealth, earn the highest honors, and command the respect of the entire world.
His existence created legends that transcended the realm of athletes; he was a
man who, with a body of flesh and blood, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the
"Gods."
Hideaki Kanoh didn't even need to recall these facts; they were etched into the
collective consciousness of every fighter.
And now, the son of that "God," Alai Jr., had come to this house. He was
standing right before him.
He's so young... early twenties, maybe?
He was the spitting image of Alai in his youth—handsome, charismatic, as if he
had been cast from the same mold. And this warrior had come to Tokyo for the
Kengan Annihilation Street Brawl? He even wanted to challenge Baki Hanma?!
Kanoh was internally reeling, but he maintained his professional composure and
remained silent.
Tokugawa chuckled. "If you want to challenge Baki Hanma, I can just give him a
call. No need to join a tournament for that."
Alai Jr. thought for a moment. "It's not... just about challenging him."
"I need an opportunity to 'prove' something." Alai Jr.'s expression grew
serious. "The 'Mohammad Alai Style' of martial arts that my father intended to
complete... just how far have I taken it? I need to prove its worth to the
world."
"No problem at all!" Tokugawa beamed, his tone shifting. "But throwing Alai II
directly into the 'Streets' right away... that's like asking Marilyn Monroe to
ride a bicycle to work. It's a waste of the aesthetic!"
"A match opportunity will arise soon. I'll contact you then. In the meantime,
feel free to explore the city."
At the same time, Ren Shiroki was walking down the street, his mind buzzing with
data.
Alai Jr... Sting like a bee, dance like a butterfly boxing? Sounds incredible!
And the weather is great today too. Haha!
The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. His combat aura began
to faintly leak, slightly warping the air around him. Passersby cast nervous
glances his way, unable to put a finger on why the smiling young man felt so
dangerous.
[The Following Day—Shinshinkai HQ]
The nine-story Shinshinkai building was one of Tokyo's most recognizable
landmarks. A massive mural of a "Bushin slaying a Tiger" adorned the exterior,
radiating a sense of immense prestige.
Ren Shiroki had accepted an invitation from the "Second Generation Head,"
Katsumi Orochi, to perform a martial arts demonstration and exchange insights
with the Shinshinkai students.
Katsumi's hospitality was impossible to turn down. Moreover, for Ren, it was a
perfect chance for deep reflection. He wasn't one for meditation; he found it
much easier to think while his body was in motion.
After the demonstration, the Shinshinkai disciples bowed in gratitude to Ren.
Katsumi then led Ren to the upper floors, entering the private training hall of
[THE BUSHIN].
The bald, one-eyed powerhouse, Doppo Orochi, was there, balls-deep in his daily
routine.
"Oho! Finished the demo? Good work, kid!" Doppo, dressed in his traditional gi,
turned and waved. "I'm just about to start my main set. Care to watch?"
Ren nodded eagerly.
Doppo barked an order. "Katsumi! Give me a hand!"
Katsumi let out a helpless laugh. "Pops, you're going to start showing off
again, aren't you?"
Doppo's lip curled. "Quit whining and get the gear!"
"Fine, fine..." Katsumi gave Ren a look that said 'watch this'. He went to the
storage room and hauled out a mountain of materials, arranging them in the
center of the dojo.
"Shiroki-kun, take a look—"
Katsumi pointed to the items. "Glass bottles, stone bricks, and wooden posts."
He stacked four hollow stone bricks on the floor, then dragged over a table to
set up three glass beer bottles. Finally, he stood a few feet away, holding a
thick square wooden post upright.
"That enough, Pops?"
"Yeah, that'll do."
Doppo tightened his black belt, giving it a sharp pat. He stepped up to the
four-layer stack of bricks, stared down, and took a deep, resonant breath.
"SHAA!"
With a thunderous shout, Doppo drove his right palm-heel downward.
CRACK-SHATTER! The four stone bricks imploded instantly, reduced to gravel in a
heartbeat.
Swish!
Doppo didn't stop. He pivoted toward the table, sliding forward in a blur.
Pros knew that if you were doing a "breaking" stunt, you never used unopened
beer bottles. The internal pressure made them much harder than an empty one. But
these three bottles were all sealed and full.
Clap!
Doppo's right hand moved palm-up, swinging in a reverse-hand knife-edge strike.
It was a move that combined blinding speed with the sharpness of a katana. He
sliced clean through the neck of the first bottle. The glass was severed, yet
the bottle didn't even wobble on the table.
Clap!
The left hand followed in a mirror motion, decapitating the second bottle.
For the third bottle, Doppo's left hand suddenly clenched into a fist. He
delivered a horizontal punch. BONG! The bottle remained perfectly still, but a
circular "plug" of glass had been punched clean out of the side as if it had
been bored by a machine. Beer began to spray from the hole.
"Hah!"
Doppo let out a sharp cry, stomping the floor and leaping into the air. He aimed
a [SOKUTO KERI] (Side-blade kick) at the wooden post Katsumi was holding.
SNAP!
The wood snapped in two. The break was so clean and smooth it looked like it had
been planed by a carpenter.
Thud.
Doppo landed perfectly, exhaling a long cloud of steam. "Phew...!"
He still felt a "Technical Itch," so he turned to Ren, walking slowly toward
him.
"I heard that the son of Mohammad Alai is in Tokyo for the tournament. I can't
wait."
"I'm so excited I can't sit still! I wonder when he'll come looking for me? I'm
a bit of a celebrity myself, after all..."
Doppo arched an eyebrow at Ren. It was a blatant invitation.
Ren scratched his head, taking the hint. "How about we trade a move or two?"
Doppo let out a sigh of relief. "There we go! I'm a senior, after all. It's
embarrassing if I have to be the one to ask first!"
He rooted himself to the floor, his one eye narrowing. "Just one exchange. To
whet the appetite."
Ren crouched slightly, standing side-on. He suddenly dug his rear foot in,
launching himself like a projectile.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
Voom!
In a heartbeat, Ren was in Doppo's personal space. His hand was already curling
into a half-grip, prepared to unleash a three-hit drunken-style chain.
But facing Ren's hyper-fast lunge, the master of Karate used a single, simple
move: The Front Kick (Mae-geri).
It was the most basic kick in Karate, the first thing a white belt learns. He
aimed for Ren's center-line, driving his hips and core forward to "send" the
foot home.
BOOM!!
The powerful kick was intercepted by Ren's left forearm, but the force was so
immense it lifted him off the mats. Ren was sent sailing backward and to the
side, flying several meters before he could regain his orientation.
Thump.
Ren landed heavily, his feet skidding against the wood. His left forearm was
already beginning to swell and turn a dull red—the "calling card" of the
Bushin's basic kick.
"Tsk..." Ren shook out his arm. It stung like hell.
Doppo burst out laughing. "Shiroki-kun! That was Hafatsu-senshin (starting
second, finishing first)!"
Ren didn't say anything. The "one exchange" was over. He simply stood there,
staring at the floor, mentally replaying Doppo's kick frame-by-frame.
He started his move after I launched my [DRIVE RUSH], yet he hit me first? He
intercepted the momentum and broke my rhythm... I see.
The more Ren chewed on it, the more "perfect" it felt. He began shadowboxing in
place, trying to mimic the feeling. The Orochi father and son shared a look, not
wanting to interrupt his epiphany.
"So... we're taking him out to lunch, right?" Katsumi whispered. "Where are we
going?"
"You're just looking for a free meal, aren't you?" Doppo grumbled.
"Pops, how can you say that about your own son?!"
Just then, a Shinshinkai student named Terae entered the hall. "Master! The
scheduled guests have arrived."
"Right. Good work."
Katsumi nodded and turned to explain to Doppo. "The MPD made an appointment.
They said someone wanted to visit and 'experience' Shinshinkai Karate."
Doppo blinked. "Well, that's fine. Who's the guest?"
Inspector Morio Sonoda and the convict Doyle had arrived at the Shinshinkai HQ.
☆☆☆
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