Fallen kings Baki x Lookism Crossover Fanfiction
CHAPTER 2: FIRST BLOOD
Dawn broke over the abandoned district, painting the rusted metal and broken concrete in shades of amber and crimson. The warehouse had been transformed overnight—debris cleared, makeshift training equipment assembled from scavenged materials.Gun Park stood in the center of the space, shirtless, his scarred torso gleaming with sweat. Across from him, Baki Hanma mirrored his stance, completely relaxed yet somehow radiating menace."First lesson," Baki said quietly. "Forget everything you know about winning."Gun's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?""In Seoul, you fought to dominate. To prove superiority. To build your reputation." Baki began circling slowly, his footwork impossibly smooth. "Against my father's network, that mentality will get you killed. They don't care about reputation. They care about one thing—absolute victory."Without warning, Baki moved.Gun's instincts screamed. He blocked high—but the strike came low, a devastating sweep that took his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, rolling immediately, but Baki was already there, fist hovering an inch from Gun's throat."Dead," Baki said simply, pulling back and offering a hand.Gun ignored it, pushing himself up. His jaw clenched. "Again."Baki smiled slightly. "Good. But this time, I want you to do something different." He tapped Gun's forehead. "Stop thinking like a Seoul fighter. Start thinking like prey.""Prey?""My father is a predator. So are Oliva, Doppo, Musashi, Pickle. They've spent their entire lives hunting, killing, dominating." Baki's eyes gleamed. "You need to understand what it's like to be hunted. Only then can you learn to survive them."Across the warehouse, Daniel Park sat cross-legged, both bodies present. His smaller body was in deep meditation while his perfect body stood guard. Sweat dripped down both faces."Your UI is impressive," Baki had told him earlier. "But it has a fatal flaw."Daniel's eyes opened. "What flaw?""It's reactive. You wait for your opponent to move, then respond optimally." Baki crouched beside him. "Against Musashi, what happened?"Daniel's fists clenched. "He was too fast. Too unpredictable.""No. He forced you to make the first move." Baki tapped Daniel's chest. "Musashi is a master of 'sen no sen'—attacking the attack before it begins. Your UI couldn't process that because it relies on reading completed movements."Daniel absorbed this. "So how do I counter it?""By combining your UI with your foresight awakening. Your small body can predict attacks before they happen. Your perfect body can execute optimal responses." Baki stood. "But you've been using them separately. I'm going to teach you to use them simultaneously."He pulled out a blindfold. "Starting now."In the corner, Goo Kim was doing something that looked absolutely insane—repeatedly slamming his shins and forearms against a concrete pillar while Johan watched with a mixture of horror and fascination."Baki said my unpredictability is worthless without a foundation," Goo grunted between impacts. "So I'm building one. The hard way.""That's going to break your bones," Johan said flatly."Already broken them twice this morning." Goo grinned through the pain. "They heal stronger each time. Baki calls it 'microfracture conditioning.' Apparently Pickle does it naturally—his bones are dense as steel from constant trauma."Johan shook his head. "You're insane.""Says the guy who copies fighting styles by watching them once." Goo landed another brutal kick against the pillar. "What's Baki got you doing?"Johan held up his hands, which were wrapped in thin wire. "Sensitivity training. Musashi doesn't just copy techniques—he understands the intent behind them. The killing spirit. The philosophy." He closed his eyes. "I need to learn to copy not just the movement, but the meaning.""Philosophical bullshit," Goo muttered."Maybe. But Musashi nearly killed me in eight seconds." Johan's expression darkened. "Next time, I'll be ready."Vasco finally regained consciousness around noon, groaning as his eyes opened to find Baki standing over him."Welcome back," Baki said. "How do you feel?""Like a truck hit me. Then backed up and hit me again." Vasco tried to sit up, winced. "Pickle?""Pickle." Baki confirmed. "He liked you, actually. Said you fought with 'good spirit.'""That's supposed to make me feel better?""It should. Pickle usually kills people he doesn't respect." Baki helped Vasco to his feet. "But we need to address your fundamental problem.""Which is?""You're strong. Incredibly strong for someone your age. But strength without technique is just wasted energy." Baki led him to a heavy bag—or what used to be a heavy bag. It was now filled with metal and weighted to nearly 500 pounds. "Oliva can lift cars. Pickle can tear apart prehistoric beasts. Jack can break steel beams with his jaw alone. Your raw power doesn't scare them."Vasco's face fell. "So what do I do?""You learn to weaponize it properly." Baki demonstrated, striking the bag with what looked like a casual punch. The entire thing exploded off its chain, flying across the warehouse. "Power isn't just about muscle. It's about timing, momentum, breath control, and knowing exactly where to strike."He gestured at the destroyed bag. "Now. Do it again. But this time, I want you to understand why it broke."The afternoon sun was setting when the first sign of trouble arrived.Gun was mid-strike when Baki suddenly grabbed his wrist, yanking him down. A split second later, something whistled through the space where Gun's head had been—a small dart that embedded itself in the wall behind them."Everyone down!" Baki shouted.The warehouse erupted into chaos. More darts flew through broken windows. Daniel's foresight screamed warnings as his small body dove for cover. Johan's eyes tracked the trajectory angles. Goo grabbed a metal pipe as an improvised shield."They found us," Gun hissed.Baki's expression turned grim. "Not they. He."A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the dying light. Massive shoulders. Military stance. And a presence that made even Baki tense."Well, well," the figure rumbled, stepping into view. "The runaway prince and his little rebellion."Biscuit Oliva. The Unchained. Head of Yujiro's North American Division.The man was built like a tank—muscles layered upon muscles, each group visible even through his prison uniform. His smile was friendly, almost gentle. His eyes were dead."Baki-kun," Oliva said pleasantly. "Your father was wondering where you'd gone. Imagine my surprise when scouts reported you were playing teacher in a Seoul slum.""Oliva," Baki said quietly, stepping forward. "This doesn't concern you.""Oh, but it does." Oliva cracked his knuckles, each pop sounding like a gunshot. "Lord Hanma gave me specific orders. Retrieve you alive." His smile widened. "He didn't say anything about your students, though."Gun moved to stand beside Baki, lighting a cigarette with steady hands despite the tension. "You'll have to go through us."Oliva laughed—a genuine, warm sound that somehow made the threat worse. "Kid, I've crushed terrorists, military units, and legendary martial artists. You're just a Seoul street fighter who got lucky for a few years.""Then prove it," Gun said coldly.The temperature in the warehouse dropped.Oliva's expression shifted from amused to interested. "You know what? I think I will." He rolled his shoulders, muscles rippling. "Baki, I'll make you a deal. Your students survive one minute against me—just one minute—and I walk away. Report to your father that I couldn't find you.""And if they can't?" Baki asked."Then I collect my prize and these five become permanent guests of the North American Division." Oliva's grin turned predatory. "Sound fair?"Before Baki could respond, Gun stepped forward, removing his jacket. "Deal.""Gun—" Daniel started."Shut up," Gun said quietly. "If we can't survive one minute against one of his subordinates, we don't deserve to fight Yujiro anyway."He turned to face Oliva fully, dropping into his combat stance. Behind him, Goo grabbed his pipe. Daniel's perfect body materialized, standing beside his smaller form. Johan's eyes began analyzing. Vasco, still battered, forced himself upright.Five against one.Oliva looked them over, then shrugged. "Your funeral, kids."And then he moved.The man who could lift cars, bend steel, and match Yujiro Hanma in raw physical power—moved.Gun barely had time to think "fast" before Oliva's fist filled his vision.