Once—
Yang stood before three bricks stacked on top of each other, supported at both ends by other bricks to hold them in place.
He slowly positioned the edge of his palm over the center brick, fingers tight, wrist aligned, breath steadying in his chest he raised his hands up and brought it down
Crack !
"Huff… not enough."
Only two bricks split cleanly. The third stopped his hand cold.
"You're doing it wrong."
A calm, almost soothing voice drifted in from the shoji door.
Yang slowly turned his head, confusion written plainly across his face.
It was two in the morning. The dojo was supposed to be empty.
Hearing a voice like that at this hour made his skin prickle
His eyes settled on the figure.
A man dressed entirely in black.
Long black hair. Black skin. Black clothes, black shoes.
Even the air around him felt dark— but the darkness thickened more around his fists
"You should strike on empty lungs," the man said quietly.
"Yeah… thanks," Yang muttered, shaking out his stinging hand. "So—what can I do for you?"
The man stepped inside without asking permission, his gaze drifting across the dojo before settling on Yang.
"I'm here for the master of this dojo."
"You mean Master Doppo?"
A single nod. "Master Doppo."
Yang glanced above the shōji door ,there was a clock
Condensation from the steam rising off his overheated body had fogged the glass of covering of the clock, leaving it barely visible through the haze.
"It's two in the morning. He's probably asleep."
"I'll wait."
Yang blinked. "Wait… until he wakes up?"
"Yes."
A quiet sigh slipped from Yang's lips. "Fine. Want some tea?"
" Dark Coffee."
" what ? "
" Dark coffee ." The man pointed at him
"…Right."
_________
"Mister—mister! Where are you?"
Yang slid into the guest room, balancing a tray with two cups.
"I'm right here."
He was seated cross-legged at the center of the room.
Yang froze for half a second.
How…? How did I not notice him right in front of me?
"Oh. Right." Yang nudged the shōji door shut with his heel and stepped further inside. "By the way, mister… what's your name?"
"Juumei Kuga."
"I see. Name's Yang." He moved closer, eyes casually measuring distance.
Kuga tilted his head slightly. "Yang… that's an unusual name. Are you Chinese?"
"I don't really know about my backgro—oh, fuck—"
Yang stumbled.
Or rather, he pretended to.
The tray tipped forward, cups tumbling toward Kuga.
In the same motion, Yang's foot snapped out—kicking one of the falling teacups straight at Kuga's face.
The cup shattered against his face—glass shards and coffee spraying across the room.
Nice!
Yang's lips curled into a smirk—
—and froze.
Kuga blurred.
One instant he was seated. The next, he was right in front of Yang.
Yang was still half on the floor, supporting himself with one hand from the staged fall.
Kuga now knelt before him, His right hand was extended his fist hovering only inches from Yang's face.
Yang's breath caught.
Kuga didn't even bother to look at him
His expression hadn't changed.
Coffee dripped slowly from his dark hair, trailing down his cheek… but not a single cut or bruise marked his skin.
Yang understood immediately.
A fist held only inches from his face—
One-inch punch or Sunkei, for martial arts nerd
Oh fu—
Kuga's fist shot forward.
Crack!
Pain exploded through Yang's nose. Blood burst out as his entire body lifted off the ground, crashing down and rolling to the side.
"Psssst—"
Blood streamed from his nose, spilling over his lips and into his eyes, staining his vision red.
Kuga stepped forward
Yang forced himself up, legs shaking.
Kuga drew his right hand back to his ribs, the other extending forward in a straight line.
Seiken tsuki.
Yang mirrored the stance on instinct.
' Alright lets see who has the stronge-'
His thoughts died.
Kuga's right leg had already moved.
A sharp, brutal kick landed between Yang's legs.
The seiken stance had been nothing more than bait.
And Yang fell for it.
Kuga didn't slow down.
He had no intention of stopping until the person in front of him was unconscious.
To him, rules were bullshit made for cucks
Demon fist, Buddha heart? Fuck that
"There is no first strike in karate"?
Also fuck that
Kuga stepped in again. His elbow descended toward Yang's spine while he was still folding from the groin strike
Yang barely managed to twist, the elbow grazing instead of crushing and possibly making him going through the second circle again. He coughed blood onto the tatami his vision blurring
Kuga's leg snapped forward again—
His heel smashed into Yang's nose.
Then again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each strike was short, brutal, efficient. The kind meant to finish
Blood splattered across the tatami in thick arcs. Yang's head whipped side to side with every impact
—but he didn't fall unconscious.
He was still breathing.
Still trying to stand.
Kuga paused. His eyes widened ever so slightly.
'Hmm? Impressive.
Most collapse by the third… maybe the fourth.
He's still conscious. And he doesn't look like he'll go down anytime soon '
His gaze sharpened.
' Should I go all out ?
A brief pause.
No… i might kill him ,but still i cant win against him like this '
Kuga slowly lifted his right leg—higher and higher—until his foot nearly touched the ceiling.
A vertical axe kick.
Then he brought it down.
Before it could land
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
Kuga stopped mid-descent and turned.
Leaning casually against the doorframe stood .
The God of War.
The King of Fists.
The Tiger Slayer.
His hands were still clapping, expression bright with a welcoming smile
"Amazing…" Doppo said calmly. "So this is what they call real karate in the underground tournaments, huh."
"Your student is impressive," Kuga said calmly, glancing at Yang—who was somehow back on his feet, stance raised despite the blood pouring down his face.
"He took seven low heel kicks and is still standing. "
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"He's sloppy. But his stamina… is abnormal. Greater than anyone I've met so far."
Doppo's gaze shifted to Yang for a moment before returning to Kuga.
"That punch earlier… was that sunkei?" Doppo asked, subtly mimicking the short-range motion.
Yang's already bloodshot eyes widened.
He was here the whole time…?
Kuga nodded faintly.
"Sunkei originates from seiken tsuki. Seiken controls twenty joints in the body."
He flexed his fingers slightly.
"Sunkei controls only seventeen."
A quiet pause.
"Seventeen is enough "
Yang's mind raced despite the throbbing in his skull.
Seventeen joints? Then it's weaker than seiken
His thought cut itself off.
Doppo scratched his chin thoughtfully, studying Yang, who hadn't lowered his guard for even a second.
'If he had used full seiken control…
Yang's head might've come off '
Doppo's eyes sharpened slightly.
No.
Probably not.
Doppo smirked as he walked toward Kuga, hands resting loosely at his sides.
"I didn't know the Dark Master was so generous," he said. "Revealing a secret technique so openly."
Kuga's lips curved faintly.
"Don't misunderstand. When I fight you, I won't be using gentle things like sunkei."
His eyes sharpened.
"You'll have to worry about the dangerous ones."
"Disgusting. Tch." Yang spat blood onto the tatami, scowling at both of them. "So what now, you old fossils? Gonna start kissing each other? Save the flirting for after the match im not interested in old men yaoi"
Doppo raised both hands defensively.
"Oi. I'm married."
"There's no match," Kuga said calmly. "I'm done here. This is enough for me."
He turned toward the door, walking past Doppo without another glance at Yang.
"Oh, come on—don't be a coward!" Yang shouted from the floor, immediately collapsing onto his backside. "I'm still standing!"
He wasn't.
Kuga ignored him completely.
Doppo's voice followed Kuga's retreating figure.
"Kuga-san… do you think he's suitable for Shozan Tournament?"
Kuga stopped at the doorway but didn't turn around.
"I'm not certain about that," he replied. "But I can say this , he's a better choice for the tournament than your son."
"…Huh? You know my son ?"
Doppo's eyes widened slightly.
Kuga's silhouette darkened against the hallway light.
"your boy is cocky and reckless he'll only bring shame to your school ,while that boy he can do something there" he said quietly. "That's all I'll tell you."
And then he left.
Silence filled the dojo.
Behind them, Yang lay sprawled on the tatami, blood slowly spreading beneath his face.
"…Tournament?" he muttered.
"Nothing you should worry about," Doppo replied casually. "Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."
The lights clicked off.
From the darkness, Doppo's voice echoed again.
"Want me to tuck you in?"
"Fuck no."
______
Juumei kuga .