Buuuuurp.
The loud burp echoed through the restaurant, freezing everyone mid-step as they turned toward the source.
At one of the tables sat a heavily built man. A scar cut near his eyebrow, light stubble shadowing his jaw. The table before him was littered with cracked eggshells, and in his hand was a massive cup filled with raw yolk. He lifted it again and chugged.
Across from him stood a young man with a wide grin.
"I can't believe you knocked out a yokozuna in one blow."
The muscular man lowered the cup. "He was drunk… and I kind of sucker-punched him."
"Still, your opponent was a yokozuna. A real match between you two would be impossible, right, old man?"
"Yeah, you're right." The man smiled faintly as he pulled a folded note from his jacket.
A list of names covered the paper, each one crossed out.
Chuck Liddell (UFC champion)
Mamoru Takamura (boxing)
Royler Gracie (Brazilian jiu-jitsu)
Jake Paul (pussy)
Yumigahama Hikaru (bigger pussy)
Only one name remained untouched.
Doppo Orochi (Shinshinkai karate)
It was the only name circled heavily in red ink that tore through the page a bit
"Youre almost done with everyone on the list "
He nodded
"Tomorrow will be the last name "
_______________
Now the muscular man and the young boy stood in front of the Shinshinkai headquarters.
They stared up at the large illustration of Doppo Orochi karate chopping a massive tiger in half with a hand strike.
The boy tilted his head, puzzled. "Uh… old man, do you even know what kind of karate they practice here?"
"Nope. No idea." He grinned cockily, still eyeing the drawing. "But they've got a hell of a way to attract students."
"Let's just hope they don't use weird techniques like that giant monkey from before. I'm still confused about how he materialized two imaginary katanas in his hands."
"They weren't katanas. You're just imagining things." He shrugged. "Either way… let's take a look."
He pushed the door open.
A cold breeze hit his face—mixed with the thick scent of blood and sweat.
They stepped inside.
Their eyes wandered across the hall. The sight raised only one question in his mind.
Do they really teach karate here?
Everything looked worn and battered. Dumbbells lay dented on the floor. Bricks were scattered everywhere, many of them cracked or shattered with blood splattered on them
It felt less like a dojo… and more like a battlefield.
Creak!!
Both of them snapped their heads toward the sound.
A tall, muscular man with an undercut stood there, scowling down at them. He wore a karate gi, a black belt with two red stripes tied firmly at his waist.
Suedo
"What do you want?" His eyes settled on the muscular stranger.
"…"
"If you're here to join our school, learn some manners first. Take your damn shoes off." He stepped forward until their faces were only inches apart.
The muscular man didn't answer. He simply brushed past him and walked toward a heavy sandbag hanging in the corner.
In an instant—
His leg whipped up, slamming into the bag and sending it swinging violently. As it swung back toward him, he drove a punch straight through it. Sand burst out from a torn hole, spilling onto the floor.
"I came to challenge Doppo Orochi," he said calmly. "Bring him to me."
"…"
"Pffft—" Suedō covered his face with his right hand, peeking through his fingers. "So you show up without introducing yourself, ignore the rules, wreck our equipment with that lousy technique… and now you want to challenge the director?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Suedō chuckled again. "Guys, come take a look at this."
The door behind him slid open. One by one, hardened men stepped out—faces lined with scars, black belts tied at their waists.
Everything about them warned against trouble. Cauliflower ears. Split, scarred lips. Hands like bear paws.
They began walking forward.
"Hoooh~ You're all going to fight me?" the muscular man laughed, spreading his arms wide. "Fine by me. Come on—every one of you!"
Instead, the hall erupted in laughter, the sound rumbling through the room.
The young boy quickly slipped behind the muscular man's back.
Suedō wiped tears from his eyes. "Ha… ha… so? Anyone want him?"
"Sure, I can spare a minute."
"Me, me. I need to burn some calories."
"I doubt fighting him would burn anything—hahaha!"
The laughter exploded again.
The muscular man's face darkened.
"Bro, just go home. You're going to get hurt," Suedō said, holding his chest as he laughed.
"Do you guys actually know how to fight as much as you talk?"
The hall went silent.
Suedō sighed and scanned the room—until his eyes landed on the far corner.
There, a man was sleeping. A book covered his face, his head resting on his arms . His dogi was filthy, stained with dried blood along the sleeve and collar.
Suedō inhaled
"YAAAAAAAAAAANGGGGGGGGGG!!!"
His roar shook the hall harder than all the laughter combined.
Yang slowly rose from his slumber, eyes narrowed in irritation.
He dragged his sleeve across his face to wipe it clean—only for the dried, hardened blood to scrape against his skin.
"Ah—!" He winced. "What the hell do you want?!"
"Don't tell me you fell asleep reading again. You idiot. Master's told you a thousand times—apply the techniques. Don't read them like they're manga."
"What… do… you… want?" Yang growled.
"Get up and get over here. We've got another dojo crusher."
Yang's scowl deepened.
Ever since he'd started staying at Shinshinkai, dojo crushers had been showing up almost daily.
And with no one else around to deal with them…
He was always the one who had to fend them off.
He finally stood, and the muscular man got a proper look at him.
If not for the thick neck muscles, the cauliflower ears, the split lips—he might've been the most beautiful person the man had ever seen.
Yang started walking toward them.
No—walking wasn't the right word.
He was limping, almost like an old man dragging himself forward.
"This is Yang. He's the weakest one here," Suedō said, gesturing toward him.
Yang frowned.
"He's messing with you. I'm like… the third strongest."
"Third? Wait—Doppo, Katsumi… you? So you're stronger than Kato? And hold on—even me?!"
"Fuck you and your Kato. Go tell him I said that."
Yang finally stopped in front of the man.
"As you heard from that gorilla shouting, my name's Yang." He gave a slight bow.
The muscular man returned it. "Tanba. Bunshichi Tanba."
"Well, Tanba… where do you want to fight? Here? Or the next room, on the bamboo mats?"
"Anywhere is fi—"
Before Tanba could finish, Yang's left hand swung out
Smack.
The slap was so sharp it seemed to drain the color from Tanba's eyes for a split second.
But he recovered fast.
His leg shot upward toward Yang's chin.
Yang leaned back just enough—then snapped his foot into Tanba's standing leg.
Tanba lost balance and crashed to the floor.
"Should've taken the bamboo mat offer," Yang said, looking down at him with a faint smirk.
Tanba rose slowly, eyes bloodshot. He bit down on his lip until it bled, then suddenly lunged forward, arms wrapping behind Yang's knees for a tackle.
But Yang barely moved an inch.
Tanba felt like he had just thrown himself against a massive boulder.
So Tanba abandoned the tackle.
Instead, he threw a left hook into Yang's face—then a sharp kick to the stomach—followed by a brutal headbutt that snapped Yang's head back.
Yang staggered, clutching his bleeding nose.
"W-wait—" He raised his left hand weakly, eyes watering as if asking for a pause.
I'm winning!! Tanba thought.
Time seemed to slow as his right fist drove forward—closer… closer… closer to Yang's face.
Then Yang's right arm blurred.
Tanba's head jerked slightly.
The punch landed on his chin so fast he barely registered it.
Seiken tsuki.
Yang's most refined technique—one he and Doppo alone had truly mastered.
But Yang was different. For him, seiken tsuki wasn't just a move. It was instinct. A part of his body. Fluid. Faster.
If he and Doppo threw it the same time, Yang's fist would arrive first—
—but Doppo would still win the exchange, simply because his power was greater.
In fact, if Yang landed that strike on something dense like an elbow, a knee—he'd be the one who suffered. The speed alone could shatter his own hand
That's why he conditioned them to their absolute limit.
He punched bricks until his fists wouldn't clench anymore. Then he plunged them into buckets of ice and did it again. Over and over.
Which also explained the dried blood staining his sleeves.
And the broken bricks filling the hall
Tanba fell face-first toward the ground—
—but his face never hit.
He had caught Yang's collar on the way down, halting himself, breathing hard as he fought through the dizziness.
Then, in one sharp motion, he yanked Yang forward and down.
What made Yang immovable before was his base.
Sanchin-dachi.
A stance that distributed his weight evenly—fifty-fifty—while tensioning every muscle to root him into the floor.
From below, he was a mountain.
But pull him from above—where his legs couldn't anchor—and the foundation meant nothing.
Yang's upper body crashed down. His face slammed into the ground.
His nose burst with blood.
Tanba crawled forward, rising to his feet until he stood right in front of him.
Yang looked up, one hand cupping his bleeding nose.
"What's wrong, pretty boy… already done?"
Tanba grinned
" pretty boy ? "Yang rose as well.
They both settled into stance.
Yang— typical Sanchin.
Tanba shifted his right foot half a step forward.
Migi shizentai.
Hands open. Palms forward.
He was going to grapple.
They stood still, eyes locked.
A second passed.
Then another.
It felt like an eternity.
Suddenly—both lunged at each other
But before either could complete the motion, a figure stepped between them.
Doppo.
His left fist shot toward yang at his left, stopping just short of Yang's nose—the force alone whipping Yang's hair back.
His right arm thrust toward Tanba at his right—only for Tanba to catch it by the wrist.
"D-Director?!" Suedō blurted, stunned.
When did he get there? Had they been so absorbed they hadn't noticed?
Doppo glanced at Tanba. Then at Yang.
"Tanba-kun wins."
"That's bullshit—"
Pshhhhh.
Blood suddenly sprayed from Yang's nose.
"Oh. My bad. Put a little too much force into that poke," Doppo said casually, pulling his hand back before it could get splattered.
Yang clamped his hand over his nose to stop the bleeding—but instead, blood welled in his eyes.
"Okay… this is really bullshit."
Doppo turned toward Tanba, who still looked slightly dazed. "So, I heard you came for me, right?"
"Ah… yes."
"but You barely beat Yang. The weakest one here."
"Third strongest," Yang muttered, raising a finger as he stepped back into view.
"Yeah, yeah." Doppo waved him off and looked back at Tanba. "Alright. Let's do it."
Tanba instantly dropped into stance.
Doppo didn't.
He simply stepped forward, chin lifted, closing the distance without the slightest hesitation until they were only centimeters apart.
Tanba's hand shot toward Doppo's collar
—but before he could grab it, Doppo's leg snapped upward.
The kick drove straight into Tanba's groin.
The impact lifted him off his feet.
He crashed forward, landing hard on his chin—
and went out cold.
_________
Bunshichi Tanba
Hina