???? – POV
I want to be number one.
But number one at what?
In this country, being on top means standing at the peak of the education system.
And I'm already on that path.
Exams are like games to me. And im 100% sure They'll stay that way until I graduate with a master's degree, pass the national exam, and rank first.
Then I'll enter the Ministry of Finance.
From there, I'll become a bureaucrat.
That's how I'll lead the ruling class.
I'm confident I can reach that summit.
It might sound boring, but that's how things work in this country.
This is the only correct way to the top.
A young man in a standard formal high-school uniform walked through the bright crowded streets of Kichijōji, head held high.
Then he suddenly stopped.
Something had caught his attention.
A line of people stretched along the sidewalk.
Not ordinary people.
Strong men.
Even he—someone with no interest in martial arts could tell their bodies were different.
But not in the way athletes usually were.
This wasn't for track.
Not for swimming.
Not for any common sport.
It was harder to place.
Their builds felt… excessive.
Some of them looked like they were made for fighting.
Necks thick as tree trunks.
Cauliflower ears.
Scarred, calloused hands.
Whatever they trained for
It wasn't something you'd see on television but something outside the society norms
Fighting .
What is this line for ?
This question finally rose in my brain
I look toward the end of the line and there was a short thin man two oversized boxing gloves that looked larger than his head
He was surrounded by men on their knees gasping for air , some were even laying in the floor
He however was not even sweating no he was smiling a welcoming charmful smile " cmon boys ! Give me a one clean knockout and the prize will be yours"
Knockout ? Prize ?
"if you're a student stressed from studying—or a businessman who wants to punch his boss out of his system—come relieve your anger on me !
ten bucks for one minute!
land one clean straight to my face and i'll give you a hundred!"
…
Sir ,I don't think there are any students or businessmen here.
I glance back at the line.
Every man in it looks like he wants to tear the speaker apart.
"At first it was just drunk guys and high school delinquents trying," a woman beside me says, as if reading my thoughts. "But no one's managed to touch him. Not even once."
She folds her arms, eyeing the scene.
"So if you're looking to relieve stress, kid, buy a stress ball. Paying him will just make you angrier. There's no way you're landing a hit .. because as you can see the professionals themselves are unable to do that "
The first man in line stepped forward and swung his left fist upward toward his his chin
The short man slipped to the side.
Effortless.
A right hand came crashing down next—missed again.
Then the boxer's fists blurred, a flurry of jabs snapping toward the short man's face.
Not one connected.
To the crowd, it almost looked like they were dancing.
The short man weaved and shifted with small, precise movements, never wasting an inch.
The boxer's breathing grew ragged. His shoulders tightened.
Then—his ankle twisted.
He pitched forward, about to slam face-first into the pavement
—but the short man caught him by the back of his collar just in time.
"Whoa. You good?" he asked casually.
"Ah—y-yes. Thank you."
"Want to go another minute?"
"Nah. I'm good."
And then they kept coming.
Monster after monster.
None of them touched him.
Same result. Every time.
Boxers.
MMA fighters.
Kickboxers.
Wrestlers.
Karate practitioners.
Even street brawlers.
With rules. Without rules.
It didn't matter.
Nobody landed a single strike.
He didn't throw one either.
Big guys. Small guys. Young. Old. Gay . Straight . Transgender. Lesbian
In one hour, he cleared them all—and made three thousand dollars just for not getting hit.
"OMG, Haruya, you're amazing!"
"Look over here!"
"Have my babies!"
Praise rained down on him.
He wiped his face with a towel. When he pulled it away, the wind swept through his hair.
One thought crossed my mind.
He was beautiful.
I stepped closer.
"Excuse me, sir…"
He turned to me. "Hmm?"
"How is it that nobody can touch you at all?"
He wiped his neck with the towel, still smiling.
"It's simple. Ha. Ha ha…
Everybody uses the same old techniques. Nobody here has more than two arms, and—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
"…?"
He turned and walked toward a girl sitting on the curb, calmly reading a book.
"Where is my princess? The only one who can beat me with a kiss!"
She looked up. "Oh. Daddy, you're done?"
"Thanks for waiting, my love."
Oh.
He has a kid.
That… explains it.
Men somehow become stronger when they have kids.
But what is she reading?
I narrow my eyes.
A manga.
She was calmly reading manga while her father was being "attacked" by those monsters.
Maybe she wasn't worried.
Maybe she already knew he wouldn't lose.
My gaze follows them as he lifts her onto his back, one arm hooking under her legs. In his other hand, a bag stuffed with cash swings lightly at his side.
They walk off like it was just another afternoon.
"Oi, pops. Hold on a sec."
The voice came from behind me.
I turned
A tall man with long hair stood there, wearing a bright white karate gi. A cocky smirk was practically carved into his face.
And… yeah.
He was good-looking.
Wait.
Does he actually want to fight him?
Didn't he just watch that other karateka get humiliated?
My eyes dropped to his belt.
Black.
No red lines.
So he ranked lower than the first one who went before him.
"Huufff…"
I sighed.
He's definitely like those young masters from the wuxia novels I've been reading.
The short man—Haruya—turned at the call.
His smile returned the moment he saw who it was. He glanced down at his daughter.
"What do you think, Princess? One more?"
She nodded.
Haruya gently set her down, reached into the bag, and pulled out a pair of boxing gloves. Slipping them on, he stepped toward the long-haired boy.
"Alright, young man, let—"
A fist touched his face.
Not slammed.
Not thrown.
Just simply Placed .
"…Eh?"
I blinked.
Haruya blinked.
Even his daughter blinked.
The boy's right fist rested lightly against Haruya's cheek.
"Wanna go again?" he asked calmly, slowly retracting his hand the same way he had placed it there.
"Ah… y-yeah. Let's do it."
A thin line of sweat rolled down Haruya's temple.
I stared in shock at the weird turn of events
He hadn't sweated this much fighting an entire lineup of monsters.
Haruya raised his guard, shoulders tight now.
The long-haired karateka stepped in.
Right fist coiled near his ribs.
Left hand
resting casually on top of Haruya's head.
Just… placed there.
Simply there again
I bit down hard to stop myself from shouting.
How !!!!!!!!!!!?
How is he touching him this easily?
"Since I touched you twice… does that mean I get two hundred dollars?" the boy asked calmly.
Haruya's body twitched, like he'd just woken up from a nightmare
"…Let's go again," Haru said.
Now he was curious.
Not amused.
Curious.
"Sure. But if I hit you again, that's another three hundred."
"Yes, yes."
Haruya settled into a tight defensive stance, eyes locked onto the boy's shoulders, reading for the smallest twitch.
"Alright," the karateka said casually. "I'm going to throw a jab to your face with my left."
That has to be a fake.
Or…
Is he expecting him to think it's a fake?
The karateka moved his hands forward just enough to make Haru shift back—
—and then finger tapped his nose.
"beep. I win again."
Oh.
Now I get it.
Your eyes read punches from the shoulders. The moment the shoulders twitch, you react.
But if there's no shoulder movement
You're basically fucked
Even if the punch lack the power because of the lack of movement something as simple as a punch to the nose or eyes is all it takes to decide the winner
Even Mike Tyson once said something like this once
"How about it?" the boy asked lightly. "Again?"
And just like that
The legend of the untouchable fighter has ended.
_____________
"Ryu… Ryu!"
A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I blinked.
Classroom.
Desks.
Teacher looking at me in confusion.
Students staring at me .
"That's weird," the teacher said with a grin.
"First time I've seen you distracted. Got yourself a girlfriend or something?"
The class burst into laughter.
I scratched the back of my head, smiling awkwardly.
But as soon as the teacher turned back to the board, my thoughts drifted again.
He probably never had a proper education.
Still… I couldn't help admiring him.
I want to be like just like him
Knock. Knock.
The teacher paused mid-sentence, set the chalk down, and stepped outside.
A moment later, he returned.
"Alright, quiet down. We have a new student."
"This late in the semester? Last mid term exam is literally tomorrow "
"Is it a girl?"
"A guy?"
"Is he hot?"
" is she hot ? "
The class buzzed with whispers.
"He's been on medical leave for about a year," the teacher explained. "So everyone, please welcome him. Come on in."
He gestured toward the door.
Then he enterd the class his head almost reaching the top of the door frame
"Aaaah!!"
I shot up from my seat and pointed at him.
It was the same guy from yesterday.
The whole room turned to stare at me.
"Ryu-kun?" the teacher frowned. "Do you two know each other?"
"Nah," he answered casually. "Don't know him."
"I—ah…" I opened my mouth, then closed it. I scratched the back of my head and sat down. "No, sir. He just looked familiar."
"I see… Ahem. Then would you like to introduce yourself?"
The new student stepped forward slightly.
"My name's Yang. Nice to meetcha all." He gave a small bow.
The classroom exploded.
"Oh my God, he's so cute!"
"Do you like fat girls?!"
"Notice me!"
"I think I got a boner!"
Tak. Tak. Tak.
The teacher slammed the desk with his palm. Silence fell instantly.
"Alright. Yang, take any open seat."
Yang nodded and started walking.
Then he stopped beside my desk.
"Is that seat taken?" he asked, pointing at the empty chair next to me.
I flinched.
That's Inami's seat.
But
I want him sitting next to me.
But I also like inami
"Seat taken?" he repeated.
"O-oh—yes. I mean no—I mean yes—oh God—"
He sighed and walked past me.
No.
Not there.
Please not there.
He stopped at the very back.
The backseats.
Where the delinquents and wannabe gangsters sit.
Worse still
He sat at the desk belonging to their leader who's absent today
Yang dropped into the chair without a care in the world.
The delinquents glared at him like they wanted to carve him up.
"Yo, pretty boy. Fuck off."
One of them jabbed his shoulder hard.
Yang didn't react.
"Can't hear me? I said fuck off."
"…."
He didn't even look at them.
He almost looked like a statue.
___________
I'm thinking about going on hiatus to translate Baki Yuuenchi Gaiden .
I still don't get why the best written side story in the Baki verse hasn't been translated, while Retsu Isekai -which half of it fights are reused from the main series-is already at 60 chapters.