Chapter Eighty-Eight: I Won!

Aoki Tsukasa staggered backward several steps, a spray of gold flashing before his eyes. For a moment he could no longer tell north from south, east from west; black and white swam before him in restless waves. He shook his head, dropped to one knee, and managed to lift his gaze.

Ueno Haru had only retreated a few paces. He clutched his face, his slicked-back hair utterly ruined by that single blow, hanging in a disordered mess across his features.

He shook his head, then bared his teeth in a cold smile. “That’s a heavy punch you’ve got, bastard.”

Aoki Tsukasa spat out a mouthful of blood and saliva, worked his jaw, and rose unsteadily to his feet. The overlapping figures in his vision fused back into one. He blinked hard and fixed Ueno Haru with a hard stare. “I’ve got heavier ones.”

“Is that so?” Ueno Haru snorted and strode forward, then hurled another punch at him.

The standing kickboxing Tsukasa had practiced so relentlessly proved vital. He dipped quickly under the blow and took a few light steps back, snapping a right jab out like a bee stinging Ueno Haru square in the eye socket.

In his ears, Matsuoka Iwa’s instruction seemed to return: when facing a shorter opponent, use your reach with flexibility. Control the distance, and you control the rhythm. If you can manage the distance well, the shorter man will always be the one taking the beating.

Ueno Haru did not know what Tsukasa was thinking, but the jab, though not especially hard, struck his eye with such irritating precision that pain flared hot and tears welled at once, blurring his vision.

“You little punk!” Ueno Haru roared and charged again.

Tsukasa kept retreating, his two jabs in succession disrupting Ueno Haru’s sight. At around one hundred and eighty centimeters, with a decent reach, he had the advantage over Ueno Haru, who stood only a little over one hundred and seventy, had shorter limbs, and was too fat to move with real agility. Ueno Haru was driven mad by the jabs, yet could not lay a hand on him.

Now!

Seeing Ueno Haru flinch under the jab and instinctively squeeze his eyes shut, Tsukasa’s mouth curved into a merciless smile. He abruptly stopped retreating, stepped forward instead, and drove a full-power right hook into Ueno Haru’s jaw.

Ueno Haru had only felt his vision momentarily blocked by the jabs; before he could react, Tsukasa’s right fist suddenly filled his field of view. There was no time to move, and he took the punch full on.

And Tsukasa did not stop there. His left and right hands began to work with increasing ferocity: right hook, left hook, right hook, left straight. The fighting knowledge he had learned under Matsuoka Iwa grew clearer and more instinctive with every strike, and he could even feel at last what his old coach had meant by the rhythm of boxing.

All Ueno Haru could see was a storm of fists. Every blow was heavy, every blow vicious. No matter how tough he was, against such a relentless, swift barrage he could only be driven back step by step. Fortunately for him, they were not in a boxing ring; there was plenty of room to retreat and buy time, to gather himself.

“Die!” Ueno Haru caught a tiny opening, gritted his teeth, and took a punch to the temple without flinching. Even as blood burst from his brow ridge, he lunged forward, seized Tsukasa by the shoulder with one hand, and reached with the other for his collar, only to grasp empty air.

Damn it. This wasn’t a judo match!

Stunned by the blows, Ueno Haru suddenly understood his mistake. Years of judo had led him astray at the worst possible moment. His body had instinctively wanted to seize the collar and set up a drop seoi nage from a crouch, but Tsukasa was only wearing a tank top. Where was he supposed to grab the lapel?

But Tsukasa knew his chance had come. With Ueno Haru turned away, trying to fling him over, this was the moment he could seize.

In one swift motion he looped his right arm around Ueno Haru’s neck, hooked it in place with his other hand, and completed a perfect rear naked choke. At the same time he kicked one leg into the back of Ueno Haru’s knee. The movement Ueno Haru had made to turn and break the hold was instantly interrupted, and he was forced down to one knee.

Tsukasa then shifted his body, pressed his weight firmly to the side, locked his legs around Ueno Haru’s waist, and dragged him to the ground, continuing the choke.

The muscles in Tsukasa’s right forearm bulged high, blue veins standing out sharply. He clamped his left hand over the right and squeezed, the forearm biting down on Ueno Haru’s throat with merciless pressure. Ueno Haru jammed his chin downward with all his strength and used both hands to pry at Tsukasa’s right arm, only to find it would not open at all.

The lack of oxygen made Ueno Haru weaker and weaker. His eyes bulged, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. A dreadful thought suddenly exploded in his mind, filling him with terror.

He, he isn’t going to kill me, is he?

H-help...

Dazed, Ueno Haru looked toward the small group of delinquents watching the fight nearby, but his throat was cinched so tightly that no sound could leave him.

Feeling the struggle in front of him grow ever weaker, Tsukasa’s expression remained cold, his eyes bloodshot, as he continued to apply pressure with all his strength.

“That’s enough...”

Suddenly Maeda Tora’s weak voice rang out behind him. “Enough!”

Tsukasa seemed to wake from a dream and hurriedly released his grip. Ueno Haru collapsed face-down on the ground, clutching his throat with both hands as he gasped desperately, retching and coughing, his face drained of color, eyes still flickering with fear and even tears.

When Tsukasa looked back, Maeda Tora was lying on the ground, giving him a bright grin and a thumbs-up.

Tsukasa staggered upright and stared expressionlessly at Ueno Haru before him. He clenched his fist and held it out. “I won.”

Still on his knees, Ueno Haru felt that death had truly been only seconds away. He turned his head and asked in a trembling voice, “You... were you trying to kill me just now?”

Tsukasa said nothing. He only kept staring at him. The bloodshot in his eyes had not yet faded, but the dreadful ferocity in them was gradually settling. The nosebleed on his face had dried, giving him the look of a slasher-film killer. After a long silence, he finally spoke, slowly.

“I... won.”

“You won! You madman, you won!” Ueno Haru clutched his throat with one hand, still shaken, and used the other to push himself up from the ground, fear written plainly across his face. “You won!”

Tsukasa closed his eyes and lifted his head. A cool autumn breeze brushed his cheeks, and only then did the pain in his body come crashing back like a tide. After a long while he slowly opened his eyes and drew a deep breath.

“I...”

“Aoki Tsukasa!”

“Won!”

Only after Tsukasa’s hoarse, rending shout finally died away did the scattered replies of Maeda Tora and the others gradually rise and unify.

“Wagyo!”

“Dominion!”

“Wagyo!”

“Dominion!”

“Wagyo!”

“Dominion!”

“Wagyo!”

“Dominion!”