Chapter 361: Give and Take!
Inside the arena of the Tokyo Dome Underground Arena—The Pit.
Two men stood facing each other.
One was the [COMBAT KING], a titan of a man with a buzzed head and a massive,
powerful frame. The other was the [SOUL COMBATANT], slightly smaller in stature
but possessing a level of muscular development that put elite athletes to shame.
To any veteran in the crowd, it was immediately obvious: both fighters were the
rare type that combined overwhelming aggression with flawless technical
precision.
"This is a dream match-up!" the announcer shrieked. "Flawless Mixed Martial Arts
vs. Vibrant Street Combat!"
"A clash like this would be impossible on the public circuit! Corporate politics
and profit margins would never allow it! But everyone here knows the truth:
tonight, there is nothing but the struggle for the apex!"
"Nothing else matters but the fight!"
Tokugawa sat in his booth, a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face.
Surprisingly, inside the ring, Ren Shiroki and Naoya Okubo were both wearing
similarly relaxed expressions. There was an eerie, ill-timed sense of levity
between them.
"You can't see a drop of bloodlust on their faces!" the announcer shouted,
working the crowd into a frenzy. "But from this moment on, these two legends are
entering a war of absolute attrition! That is an undeniable fact!!"
Okubo looked around the Arena, taking in the thunderous roar of the spectators.
"Man, the support is intense. As expected of the Holy Land of underground
fighting—the crowd really knows their stuff!"
He crossed his arms, cracking his neck with a sickening crunch. He looked at Ren
and grinned. "You know, Shiroki-kun? I've fought a lot of matches. Occasionally,
I get this feeling... like, 'Damn, this guy is unreal'."
"You give me that same vibe. You look terrifyingly strong."
Okubo's expression suddenly flattened, his gaze turning serious. "So, I've got
that other feeling too. The one where I think: 'I have to fight this guy, no
matter what'."
Ren smiled back. "Okubo-aniki, I'm just as glad for the opportunity to share
this stage with you."
Okubo scratched his head. "You're way too polite! Isn't underground fighting
supposed to be more savage?"
"Whatever," he added, snapping his knuckles. "We can be friends later. Tonight,
let's just see who's left standing!"
The two men bumped fists and retreated to their respective sides.
The announcer roared: "READY... BEGIN!!!"
Whoosh.
The moment the signal echoed, both men turned and began a slow, deliberate march
toward the center.
As the distance closed to two meters, they stopped simultaneously, dropping into
their stances.
Okubo adopted a classic MMA guard. Fists clenched tight at chest height, left
hand forward to probe, right hand guarding his heart. He lowered his center of
gravity, his body coiled like a spring. His left foot touched the sand lightly
for mobility, while his right foot dug in, anchoring his power.
Ren's stance was "Centered"—a Ryu-inspired side-facing guard. His left arm was
forward, shoulder raised to protect his jaw, palm open and low to parry. His
right arm was tucked against his ribs, fist clenched. His weight was perfectly
balanced between his feet.
The "Auras" of the two men collided in the neutral space between them, visibly
warping the air. The crowd fell into a collective, suffocating silence.
Zip!
They lunged at the same time, but just as their reaches were about to overlap,
they both stuttered their steps, throwing out high-speed jabs.
Whish! Whish!
Two razor-sharp punches cut the air, but neither found a target. Okubo surged
forward; Ren glided back.
Ren leaned in; Okubo reset. Okubo pivoted left; Ren mirrored him right. It was a
high-speed game of "footsies."
"Incredible!" the announcer gasped. "Their spacing is master-class! But unlike
the old masters, their movement is incredibly active and aggressive!"
Okubo's eyes narrowed. No openings? Fine, then—
Okubo ground his rear foot into the sand, building torque for a heavy lunge.
In the same millisecond, Ren exploded into motion. His speed was so astronomical
it seemed to blur his silhouette.
[DRIVE RUSH]!
Voom!
"—?!"
So fast!!
Okubo was startled, but his reflexes were world-class. He aborted his lunge,
dropping his weight low and swinging a massive right hook.
Whoosh!
But the hook was a feint! As he swung, Okubo opened his left hand, intending to
transition into a tackle. He was going for a "Strike-to-Grapple" transition to
intercept Ren's momentum.
Ren had seen a move like this before. During his session with the [BUSHIN],
Doppo had used a simple front-kick to intercept his [DRIVE RUSH]. Since then,
Ren had been working on his entry-speed management.
Anticipating the reaction, Ren sacrificed his momentum to focus on the "Catch"!
Okubo lunged for the tackle. Ren's hands shot forward—his left hand catching
Okubo's right wrist, his right hand hooking Okubo's left elbow.
THUD!
Ren drove his foot into Okubo's stomach, using the man's own forward energy to
roll backward.
[RYU'S TOMOE NAGE]!
"—?!"
Okubo gasped. A split second before his balance was lost, he twisted his left
wrist and used his back muscles to yank his arm back.
Zip!
He managed to break Ren's right-hand grip, but his right wrist was still caught.
Reacting with predatory speed, Okubo launched an uppercut toward Ren's jaw.
Whish!
Ren snapped his head to the side, the punch grazing his cheek. He used the
movement to clamp down on Okubo's remaining arm, spinning his body to use his
shoulder as a fulcrum.
[RYU'S SHOULDER THROW]!
A completely different throw from a different angle. A normal fighter would have
been disoriented, but Okubo was a veteran of the Pit. He drove the base of his
right palm directly into Ren's face.
BAM!
The palm strike slammed into Ren's nose and mouth, a spray of blood painting the
sand.
The second throw was teched!
After the impact, Okubo didn't retreat. He kept the pressure on his palm,
intending to shove Ren off and reset.
But to Okubo's shock, even with his teeth bared and his eyes squinting from the
pain, Ren didn't let go of the wrist.
Instead, Ren used the shoving force to complete his rotation, pressing his back
firmly against Okubo's chest in a tight clinch.
Shick-shick!
Ren drove his right elbow backward. The first hit caught Okubo in the nose; the
second buried itself into his right armpit.
THUD-THUD!
"Urgh—!?"
Okubo felt his face go numb as his nose erupted in blood.
Ren used the "hit-stun" to pivot away, creating exactly half a step of spacing.
His hand curled into a half-grip as he channeled the torque of his entire body.
"Hah—!"
[JAMIE: REVERSE PALM THRUST]!
BOOM!!!
The strike caught Okubo with the force of a battering ram. He felt the skin on
his face ripple as he was upended, sent flying backward to crash heavily into
the wooden railing.
Thud—!
"It's... it's Kenpo!" the announcer screamed. He had seen the Maximum
Tournament; he knew a high-level strike when he saw one. "After teching two
grapples, Shiroki used a Chinese Kenpo throw-strike to finally land a clean hit
on Okubo!"
Ren stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving. It was far from a
one-sided exchange.
Okubo's first uppercut had opened a gash on Ren's nose, and that second palm
strike had carried enough weight to make half of Ren's face go cold.
Spit!
Ren spat out a glob of bloody phlegm and half a chipped tooth. His right eye was
bloodshot, his voice a raspy, adrenaline-fueled growl.
"Phew... as expected of the [COMBAT KING]... your horsepower is terrifying!!"
☆☆☆
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