Chapter 354: Visitors at the Gym
Compared to Arisa and Marco's casual drop-in, the arrival of Naoya Okubo and
Hisashi Atami was far more formal.
After all, they were about to meet the absolute ruler of the Thai dynasty's
political and economic sectors, a man who shared a deep, mutual respect with
Metsudo Katahara—Rama XIII. For Atami, Rama was a tier "above" the usual
corporate titans; establishing a bond with him carried immense strategic value.
For Okubo, having a favor to ask meant he had to mind his manners.
The royal guards brought out plush cushions, and Okubo and Atami took their
seats. Since this wasn't a state function, the atmosphere remained relaxed. Rama
gave a welcoming nod, signaling for the introductions to begin.
"An honor to meet you, Your Highness," Atami said with a respectful bow. He
introduced himself and his company before gesturing to the powerhouse beside
him. "And this is Mushishi TV's newly contracted Kengan fighter—[THE COMBAT
KING] Naoya Okubo."
Okubo had a buzz-cut, his shoulders broad and his back thick. Even in a tailored
suit, his dense, functional muscle was impossible to hide.
Rama appraised him, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Heh. You have the face of
a true warrior."
He turned to Arisa and Marco. "This man, Naoya Okubo, is the undisputed king of
the professional MMA circuit. He holds an unblemished record of 26 wins and 0
losses. In the 'Public' world of combat, he has achieved a legacy that rivals
even my own Sword—Gaolang."
Marco didn't fully grasp the weight of a 26-0 record, but his instincts told him
the "round-headed big bro" was a monster. Arisa, meanwhile, offered a bright
greeting, introducing herself and the giant child.
"Wait... what?!" Okubo looked at Arisa, his jaw dropping. "You guys are from the
Soul Combat Hub? You mean the [SOUL COMBATANT] is your older brother?!"
Atami let out a sharp, warning cough. Okubo realized his excitement had made him
slip up.
"Ah, sorry about that! I'm just really looking forward to the match with Ren
Shiroki. I forgot my manners. Was I supposed to... bow or something? Court
etiquette isn't really my thing."
"Hahaha!" Rama waved it off with a laugh. "There is no need. In this room,
consider me a fellow guest of the Kengan Association."
Okubo let out a visible sigh of relief. He was a free spirit, better suited for
variety shows and rowdy gyms than gilded palaces.
"Your Highness," Atami said, his voice dropping to a business-like register. "As
mentioned in our request, I've come to establish a 'Combatant's Connection'
between our organizations."
Mushishi TV wanted a bridge to the Thai monarchy, both for business and for
future joint-promotions. Rama narrowed his eyes, looking toward Okubo. "Since
you speak of combatant connections, I want to hear the thoughts of the [COMBAT
KING]."
Okubo leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Honestly? This Kengan Annihilation Street
Brawl is a total mess!"
He gave a helpless grin. "Dragging out the schedule, allowing brawls in the
street, no weight classes, no set strategies... it's pure chaos. It's just
people clashing to see who's stronger."
Okubo's grin widened into something feral. "And I think that's—FANTASTIC!!"
Rama nodded in approval. "Fantastic, you say? Heh. I quite like that
perspective."
Just then, the door to the equipment room slid open.
A man with bronze skin and long black hair emerged. His hair was tied elegantly
over his left shoulder, and a small pendant hung from a cord around his
forehead.
It was the champion who held the belts of the four major boxing organizations,
the "Revolutionary Son of the Ring"—[THE GOD OF WAR] Gaolang Wongsawat.
Gaolang was bare-chested and barefoot, wearing only a pair of boxing trunks with
a towel draped around his neck. He had clearly just finished a grueling set. He
wiped away sweat and took a sip of water before approaching the group. He
offered a formal salute to his King before nodding to his friends.
Finally, Gaolang arched an eyebrow, his dull, "dead-fish" eyes locking onto
Naoya Okubo.
Okubo appraised him in return. "So... you're the Gaolang Wongsawat."
"He is indeed the Gaolang," Rama replied with a smile. "Atami-san, the man
you've brought is a warrior of significant weight. And since he is slated to
fight Ren Shiroki, I have even more reason to be interested."
"Regardless of your corporate motives, I have no reason to refuse your proposal.
In fact, I should thank you. The arrival of a true powerhouse will only serve to
sharpen my Sword."
Atami smiled, though he was still visibly tense. "You are as generous as the
rumors say, Your Highness."
With the cooperation agreement settled, the atmosphere in the gym became much
more casual.
Gaolang sat down nearby, and Okubo immediately struck up a conversation. Gaolang
wasn't used to people who were "overly cheerful," but he found himself curious.
He looked at Okubo with his lidded eyes. "Okubo-san. Do you fight Ren Shiroki to
fulfill your employer's wish, or to win the tournament?"
"Actually... neither?" Okubo crossed his arms. "If I had to put a name on it,
I'm doing it because it sounds fun. Like, 'can't-sleep-at-night' fun!"
Gaolang nodded. "Even though you come from the public circuit, you're definitely
one of 'us'."
Okubo laughed. "Haha! Is it that obvious?"
While the fighters talked, Rama and Atami continued their discussion. They
touched on business, political trends, the movements of IDEAL, and the internal
friction within the Kengan Association.
Arisa listened intently, occasionally chiming in with her own insights. Unlike
the entrepreneurs' strictly rational approach, Arisa's perspective was guided by
a sharp, almost "manic" intuition. Her angles were fresh and often bypassed
corporate logic, earning her the genuine admiration of both Atami and the King.
They both felt that if the girl chose to enter politics or business after
graduation, she would be a force to be reckoned with.
Arisa suddenly looked toward the center of the gym and raised a hand. "Woo-hoo!"
Rama and Atami followed her gaze and shared a knowing smile.
Okubo had shed his suit, leaving him in his fighting shorts. He and Gaolang were
walking toward the boxing ring. As fighters, no matter how much they talked, the
conversation eventually had to move to the canvas.
This wasn't a death match, just technical sparring. Neither man intended to show
their hand, but they wanted to "introduce" themselves through boxing.
"Man, this brings back memories," Okubo said, hopping on the balls of his feet
as he pulled on a pair of gloves. "I did some amateur boxing back in the day. I
was even a 'special prospect' for a while. Did it for two years before I focused
on MMA."
Thump!
Okubo smacked his gloves together. "Hah! These feel good. What weight are we
using?"
"18 ounces," Gaolang replied, standing firm after securing his own gloves. He
watched Okubo's movement with a clinical eye. "Judging by your stance... you did
more than just 'two years' of boxing."
"Ah, you caught that?" Okubo began his warm-up. "I stopped being a 'boxer' the
same way I stopped being a 'wrestler.' But I never stopped training the
fundamentals. I've integrated boxing and wrestling into my MMA flow. It's served
me well."
Okubo pivoted, his guard rising into a solid wall. "But I've gotta be honest...
standing across from a 'Heavyweight King' like you? The pressure is no joke."
Gaolang's dead-fish eyes locked onto him. "Are you warmed up?"
Okubo nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it!"
The next micro-second—WHISH!
Gaolang's "lightspeed" jab exploded forward. His entire body surged as the punch
blurred toward Okubo's face. Despite the thick, soft 18oz glove, the strike
carried a piercing sharpness that felt like a needle.
Okubo wasn't some amateur off the street. He snapped his guard into place, his
weight shifting into a back-dash while his torso swayed with the impact.
Zip!
The lightspeed jab grazed Okubo's left forearm. The leather of the glove hissed
against his skin, leaving a bright red friction burn.
"Whoa...!"
Okubo reset his position, feeling the sting in his arm. His confidence didn't
waver; if anything, his grin grew wider. He could actually track the pace.
Even though Gaolang was using heavy gloves and holding back his full speed for
sparring, that jab was still faster than anything on the public circuit. The
fact that Okubo could react to it proved his pedigree as a top-tier fighter.
"Not bad," Gaolang mused. "This is how sparring should be."
"You have to be at this level to even step foot in the Street Brawl," Okubo
panted, his teeth bared in a grin. "Man... hearing you say that makes me even
more excited for my match with the [SOUL COMBATANT]!"
☆☆☆
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