Chapter 375: The Kaioh Reservation
The skin on his thigh had split, and a thin trickle of blood began to stain
Kuroki Gensai's dark trousers.
"Hm..."
Though it was a shallow wound and the bleeding stopped almost instantly, there
wasn't a hint of disdain on Kuroki's face. Instead, his expression held a trace
of somber admiration.
"We struck simultaneously. Though I, Kuroki, was faster, you still committed to
the frame and landed your blow."
"A sharp side-blade kick. Truly magnificent..."
Step.
As he spoke, Kuroki's body moved instinctively. He dropped into a specialized
stance: right side forward, right toe touching the floor, left foot rooted deep.
His hands came up, fingers pressed together—right hand guarding high, left hand
tucked near the belt.
It was the [NEKO ASHI DACHI] (Cat Stance) of the Kaiwan Style.
"—?!"
Kuroki blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. The movement hadn't
been a conscious choice; it was a natural response. His martial instincts had
categorized the youth before him as a lethal threat.
He looked at Ren again. Through the humid evening air, he could feel a complex
Combat Aura fermenting around the boy. It was a bizarre mixture—the erratic,
flickering energy of the "Spirit" and the savage, jagged bloodlust of the
"Hado."
What kind of mindset produces a spirit like this?
Kuroki's expression hardened, prepared to receive Ren's next move.
The next second—Zip!
Ren Shiroki, still lying in the pile of crates, suddenly reached an arm toward
the sky. "Agh! That hurts like hell, pops! Give me a hand, pull me up!"
The moment he spoke, the suffocating aura vanished.
Kuroki was even more surprised. A practitioner this young could toggle his
fighting spirit with such ease? To reach such a state of mental control...
"It seems you understand your own will perfectly. You are no greenhorn."
Kuroki stepped forward, reaching down to hoist Ren out of the wreckage with one
hand.
Slap, slap.
Ren patted the dust from his clothes and shook out his legs.
Kuroki glanced at him, his eyes knowing. "Controlling your aura as easily as
your breath... treating the daily grind as an extension of the battlefield. Is
that your answer?"
"No... not entirely." Ren rubbed his stomach where the kick had landed. "I don't
think there is a single answer. But since you said this was a talk between
friends—and friends argue sometimes—I think this is enough. We aren't actually
going to have a death match here, right?"
Kuroki gave a short, sharp nod.
"Throughout history, countless masters have passed away before completing their
ideal martial path. Some were taken by disease, some by injury, and many simply
lost the will to endure the agony of training."
"And then... there is time." Kuroki's voice rumbled. "The man who just left—that
was Mohammad Alai, wasn't it? Even I know that name. He, too, is fighting
against time."
"What is it you truly pursue? And how do you intend to walk that path?" Kuroki
patted Ren on the shoulder. "Continue your refinement. I look forward to seeing
your final answer."
With that, [THE DEVIL LANCE] Kuroki Gensai turned and vanished into the night.
The strongman's words echoed in Ren's mind long after he had gone.
"What am I pursuing...?"
Ren looked around the Soul Combat Hub, taking in the familiar sights and sounds.
He clenched his fist, feeling the torque in his knuckles. He heard the voices of
the girls and Marco coming from down the street—they had clearly met up on their
way home.
"Yay! It's Ren-chin's turn to make dinner!" "Woo-hoo! The school exhibition is a
go!" "Marco wants french fries!"
Ren grinned. What am I pursuing? I think I'm just enjoying the ride.
After dinner and chores, Ren began his evening session. The ink-wash smoke
billowed, carving out a hyper-active, lunging silhouette. He had messy hair, a
lean but powerful build, and wore a high-tech tracksuit with Middle-Eastern
accents.
Rashid of the Turbulent Wind.
{Alright, alright! The wind-riding hero Rashid is here! Let's start the [PARKOUR
SPECIAL TRAINING]!}
Rashid clapped his hands and took off in a blur.
Tap-tap-tap!
Ren chased after him. The two of them became a pair of shadows leaping and
bounding through the Hub's courtyard. They vaulted over the perimeter walls,
scaled the eaves in two steps, and performed synchronized backflips off the
roof.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
It felt like they were dancing on the very tips of the wind. After a dozen
chaotic laps, the session finally slowed.
Ren leaned on his knees, gasping for air, but he felt a sense of clarity he only
got from high-speed movement—as if he had just taken a trip through a desert
storm.
{Not bad! You're actually keeping up with me now!}
Rashid flashed a double-thumbs-up. {That's the spirit! You need that
forward-moving will. It doesn't matter how much power you have or what the odds
are—the only question is: Do you want to do it?}
{Anyway, don't skip your cool-down stretches. Peace out!}
Rashid performed a spinning kick that turned into a miniature tornado,
dissipating into the night air.
"Yeah... running definitely feels better than thinking," Ren muttered. He
grabbed a towel and began his flexibility drills.
Two days passed in a blur of routine.
Mitsunari Tokugawa hadn't called with a new match yet. Metsudo Katahara and the
other CEOs were still silent regarding the Secret Key Cards. The Hub operated as
usual. Yuzuha Li, Rihito, and Haruo Kono dropped by for their sets, and Cosmo
Imai came in to spar.
Then, at noon on the third day, Ren received a phone call. The caller took him
by surprise.
It was Retsu Kaioh.
"Ren. Is the arena at the Hub free this afternoon?"
"Yeah, it's open. What's up?"
"I'd like to book it for the entire afternoon. Starting today. Thank you."
Ren hung up, a curious grin spreading across his face. He didn't know what Retsu
was planning, but with that guy, it was guaranteed to be interesting. He called
out to Fusui, Arisa, and Marco to get the guest room ready, while he headed to
the kitchen to start a massive batch of popcorn.
[Tokyo International Airport—Earlier]
Retsu Kaioh, Li Kaioh, and the ancient Kaku Kaioh were waiting at the terminal.
Retsu hadn't wanted to bother his master, but Kaku had insisted on coming along,
looking like a mischievous child expecting a treat.
The flight landed on time. A group emerged from the gate.
There were five of them. All carried the unmistakable aura of Kenpo masters.
Retsu had studied their files and matched the names to the faces.
Sun Kaioh (Jeet Kune Do), Yang Kaioh (Diamond Fist), Chen Kaioh (Sanhe Fist),
Chu Kaioh (Dragon King Fist), and Samwan Kaioh (Muay Thai).
The five varied in build and dress, but all possessed the lean, functional
muscle of long-term conditioning.
"A pleasure."
Sun Kaioh stepped forward. His hands were adorned with ten thick metal rings. He
offered a respectful bow to Kaku Kaioh before turning to Retsu.
"So you are the famous Retsu Kaioh of the White Forest Temple? I've heard much
of you."
Retsu nodded, shaking Sun's hand. "I'm surprised to see you all in Tokyo
together."
"Well, Li Kaioh lost his match, didn't he?" Sun smiled thinly. "And we heard
that even you tasted defeat here at the hands of a seventeen-year-old brat."
"I did," Retsu admitted without hesitation. "Baki Hanma is an exceptional
warrior."
"How interesting!" Sun's eyes flared with aggression. "We heard there's a
'Street Brawl' happening. We've decided to join. It'll be a perfect warm-up for
the Great Centennial Tournament."
Sun spoke with absolute confidence, lacking any hint of caution. He looked like
a man who thought the world was his for the taking.
Retsu went silent, his gaze sweeping over Sun and the four Kaiohs behind him.
"You want to... participate?" Retsu asked softly. He turned to Li Kaioh. "Li,
did your brother, Fan Kaioh, not come?"
"No," Li replied. "Aniki is still in deep training. He told me to watch my own
back."
"I see..."
Retsu looked back at the five "Kaiohs" and let out a long, weary sigh. He
glanced at Kaku Kaioh, who was wearing a serene, knowing smirk. Retsu realized
why his master had insisted on coming—he knew exactly how Retsu would react to
this level of overconfidence.
Retsu tightened his grip on Sun Kaioh's hand. He looked him in the eye, his
voice turning low and dangerously serious.
"Do you truly intend to face the monsters of this city with hands like those?
With eyes like those? With a fist as soft as that?!"
The five Kaiohs froze. Li Kaioh, who had already tasted Baki's power, remained
silent, his eyes downcast.
"Hey, Retsu," Sun said, his tone turning sharp. "What's with the attitude? We
are here to demonstrate the supremacy of Kenpo. Are you saying we aren't up to
it?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
Retsu didn't back down. "The problem isn't the supremacy of the Fist. The
problem is that you are insufficient!"
The Kaiohs bristled with indignation. Sun's face darkened. "You, who have
already lost here, have the nerve to lecture us?"
Retsu's eyebrow arched. "Fine. Let's test it."
"What?" Sun blinked.
"We need a place for a 'Technical Assessment'," Retsu rumbled. "It would be
disrespectful to disturb the Shinshinkai. We're going to the Soul Combat Hub."
With that, Retsu dialed Ren Shiroki's number.
"Ren..."
"I need the arena for the afternoon. Starting now. Thank you."
☆☆☆
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