The underground arena beneath Yokohama's warehouse district pulsed with a low restrained anticipation. Floodlights flow through a haze of sweat and cigarette smoke, carving the concrete bowl into a modern coliseum built for brutality.
The crowd was a blend of sharp-suited executives, scarred enforcers, and silent observers who wagered their fortunes without flinching. The air carried the smell of leather, old blood, and the smell of smoke hanging heavy in the air.
High above the ring, the announcer's voice thundered through the speakers, deep and practiced, designed to stir some excitement for the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Kengan Association… tonight, we witness a clash of legacies!"
The lights dimmed. Spotlights converged on the fighter entrances.
"First, representing Sentory Corporation… the Anglican priest who turns sin into submission! With a record of forty-six wins and zero losses in sanctioned Kengan matches! Standing at one hundred eighty-nine centimeters and ninety-nine kilograms… The Exterminating Vicar… Mokichi Robinson! Assets acquired ¥608,834,900,000 - billions poured through pure unrelenting dominance!"
Mokichi stepped from the tunnel.
Tall. Muscular. Chin-length blonde hair flowing neatly, parted on either side. Gentle blue eyes that carried the calm of a man who had long since made peace with violence. Tonight, he wore a simple white keikogi, pristine, sleeves rolled just below the elbows. A silver cross rested against his chest, glinting under the lights.
He walked with measured steps, hands clasped behind his back, like a man approaching an altar rather than a fight.
The applause was immediate and loud. The crowd was eager and indulgent, they knew the name and knew exactly what kind of violence they had paid to see.
The announcer let the noise fade before continuing.
"And his opponent. representing his own gym called The Heavenly Sunrise… the blindfolded enigma risen from the ashes of the Army of God cult! With an undefeated streak of thirty-six wins and zero losses in Kengan-affiliated bouts! Standing at one hundred eighty centimeters and weighing ninety kilograms... One of the so-called GENIUS! and the self-proclaimed King of Beginnings... Ying Zheng! Assets acquired ¥208,834,900,000 - billions poured through pure unrelenting dominance!"
The arena stirred, but it wasn't laughter.
It was confusion.
Heads tilted and conversations paused. Their eyes narrowed as spectators searched their memory for any semblance of who this guy is.
A blindfolded fighter.
An independent gym.
Army of God.
The name rang faint bells for some and none at all for others.
"Cult heir? That Army of God freakshow? Thought the cops wiped them out years ago."
"I don't remember him." someone muttered from the executive seats.
"Thirty-six wins is real though," another replied quietly. "That doesn't happen by accident."
A few leaned forward, interest sharpening.
"Blindfolded… is that a gimmick or is he blind?"
"I feel like I've heard that name somewhere."
The noise settled into a low and thoughtful murmurs.
Ying Zheng stepped into the light slowly. Loose black training pants. Sleeveless top clinging to a lean, muscular frame. Bare feet padding silently on the floor. The white blindfold, patterned with faint red markings, curled across his tattooed face like restrained fire. He didn't flinch to the mockery. He didn't rush to prove himself. He simply walked to the center, shoulders relaxed, head tilted as if listening to a distant symphony only he could hear.
Mokichi stood opposite, hands clasped behind his back. He nodded his head to show slight respect. His calm blue eyes studied the young adult before him without judgment.
Ying Zheng mirrored the nod. A faint smirk tugged at his lips beneath the fabric.
The referee stepped between them, face impassive.
"Standard Kengan rules. No weapons, no interference and victory by submission, knockout, or referee stoppage."
He raised his arm.
"Fighters… ready?"
The arena went completely silent. Every eye locked on the blindfolded figure who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, with some eyes widening in surprise.
Ying Zheng rolled his shoulders once. His voice cut through the silence, carrying the weight of command.
"Hao! Let us begin."
Mokichi nodded.
The bell rang.
But neither fighter moved immediately.
The arena's roar settled into an expectant hush and confusion. Every eye fixed on the center of the ring, where the two fighters stood apart each other.
Mokichi Robinson lowered his hands slowly, palms open in a gesture that was more priest than fighter. His gentle blue eyes studied the blindfold and the relaxed posture of the younger man before him.
"You are very young." he said quietly. The words carried across the silent ring without effort. "A child should not be here. This place is not kind to the innocent, you've need not to return here once more."
His voice was calm, almost sorrowful, like a father speaking to a son who had chosen to walk into a life full of mistake.
Ying Zheng tilted his head slightly, as if listening to the echo of the words. A faint smirk showed beneath the blindfold.
"Bu Hao."
He rolled his shoulders once. Loose. Unhurried.
"I do not need your pity, priest." His voice was low, steady, carrying the same quiet certainty as before.
"I am not here because I must be. I am here because I want to be."
Mokichi's serene smile deepened, respectful rather than mocking.
"I see." He brought his hands up slowly, settling into a classical orthodox stance. Left foot forward, fists at chest level, elbows tucked, weight balanced perfectly. "Then show me why."
The posture was textbook, efficient, patient and waiting for the weakness to reveal itself and strike.
"Hao!" Ying Zheng mirrored the motion, but not the form.
His stance was looser, more fluid. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Weight shifted subtly from one leg to the other in a faint Capoeira rhythm. Hands open, palms facing outward, ready to explode in any direction.
The blindfold didn't move. His head tilted just enough to listen to the opponent's breathing.
The referee looked between them once more.
"Fight!"
They began to circle each other. Slow and deliberate, no rush at all.
Mokichi moved first. Testing. A crisp jab flicked out, not full power, just a probe toward Ying. The punch cut the air cleanly.
Ying slipped by it with a tiny head lean. The fist passed through empty space.
Mokichi followed with a low calf kick. Quick and snappy meant to slow the legs.
Ying checked it with his shin, then stepped forward, closing distance in a single fluid motion. A short palm strike fired out. Sharp and compact aimed at the solar plexus.
Mokichi twisted his hips, letting the strike glance off his guard, then countered with a fast elbow slice toward the temple. Ying ducked under it, feeling the air shift above his head.
They separated.
Reset.
And circling again.
The crowd started murmuring.
No wild haymakers. No reckless charges.
Just two predators feeling each other out. Measuring the rhythm, timing, and intent.
Mokichi spoke again, soft but clear.
"I noticed that you are not blind but you're still not removing the blindfold. Why?"
Ying didn't answer right away. He kept moving, feet rolling in that quiet rhythm.After another circle, he finally spoke in a low and almost casual way. "Because I don't need to see everything to know what you're about to do."
Mokichi's eyes narrowed slightly. Gentle, but sharper now. "Then let's see how far that takes you."
He stepped forward. Orthodox advance. Jab feint. Then a sudden level change, shooting low for a double-leg takedown.
Ying read the shift in weight.
He sprawled. Hips dropping with legs kicking back and hands pressing down on Mokichi's shoulders to stuff the takedown.
Mokichi transitioned mid-motion, arms snaking up for a front headlock.
Ying spun out, using Aikido redirection to turn the grip into a throw opportunity of his own.
They broke apart again. Breathing steady and sweat beginning to glisten.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder and their curiosity tipping into excitement.
"This… this isn't what I expected."
"He's actually keeping up with the priest! That Exterminating Vicar!"
"Blindfolded and he's still reading every god damn move!"
Voices rose and audiences leaning forward in their seats.
"Don't slow down, Robinson!"
"Finish him already!"
"Damn it, DON'T LOSE MOKICHI I BETTED ON YOU!"
"KEEP GOING, KING!"
The noise rose higher, rougher, and alive.
Shouts overlapping, excitement bleeding into the air as the confusion from before gave way to belief.
The arena had chosen sides.
Ying Zheng rolled his neck once. "Enough feeling each other out."
"Agreed." Mokichi nodded once, priest's calm mixed with fighter's respect.
They stepped forward at the same time.
The real fight began.
===============
AN: This is hard to do lol, man even as a hobby and just spewing random shi, this took me longer than expected. Well it's fun so that's fine I guess. Dam I suck at this lol.
Word Count: 1,474