Zack POV,
January 17th
day of the tournament.
Majima 'Ruler Paradise' Hotel.
VIP dining room.
As I chewed on a large plate of bacon, Miu holding my hand next to me, I couldn't help but worry about the tournament today. All we had to do was pass the tournament preliminaries, and we would get that world jump token.
Majima's gruff voice cut through my thoughts. "You two lovebirds done making googly eyes?"
He grinned wolfishly. "Because it's almost time for the main event."
Returning Majima's grin with a feral one of my own, I gave Miu's hand one final, reassuring squeeze.
"so, final chance to back out, you guys ready?"
"Only if you're ready to watch us destroy the competition, old man." Miu said beside me, crossing her arms.
Majima frowned, "hey I'm only 34, plenty young! I'm hip and I'll kick your ass if you say otherwise."
"Alright, alright, you two," I interjected, rising from my seat. "As entertaining as it is to watch you snipe at each other for comedy, we've got a tournament to get to."
Turning to Miu, I gave her a roguish wink, drawing another faint blush to her cheeks.
"You ready to show these chumps why they should have stayed home?" I asked, my voice a low rumble that carried an undercurrent of wry amusem*nt.
Miu's eyes glinted with determination, her expression hardening into one of frigid resolution. "More than ready," she replied after giving me a short but fierce hug, filled with emotion "Let's make Hanma regret ever crossing our path."
It wouldn't be easy, and there would undoubtedly be sacrifices and hardships along the way.
But we were ready to endure, to persevere through any trial in pursuit of that elusive goal.
The world jump token.
With time on our side, who knew what levels of immense power we could ascend to?
Letting my gaze flick between Miu and Majima, I allowed a faint smile to appear across my face.
"Then let's get moving," I said simply. "We've got work to do." We followed Majima out towards a limo, and started moving to where his personal helicopter was parked.
As we turned on the road to depart, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. I steadied my heartbeat.
The path ahead would be arduous beyond measure, filled with untold pain and struggle.
But this was our crucible, our chance to forge an indomitable will and harness abilities beyond what should be possible.
We would steal as many martial arts and ki techniques from other worlds as possible.
And with Miu by my side, her love is a constant reminder of what I will fight to protect, I knew we could endure any hardship.
As long as we were together, working towards getting strong enough for anything, I felt like we could eventually do anything.
The preliminaries would be merely the first hurdle, a proving ground to separate us from the ordinary people who filled the streets of Tokyo, Japan, and the world.
Hanma and his evil could wait.
this world could wait.
Survival. Years of growth. then justice.
And after that? Then we can take a vacation.
Even if it takes a hundred years.
--
Miu POV
We landed at the helipad just a stone's throw away from Tokyo Center Square.
As we made our way down, we couldn't help but notice the gaping voids where multiple famous buildings once stood, likely demolished by Hanma's immense power.
In their place loomed a truly colossal stadium, its imposing silhouette casting a foreboding shadow over the surrounding area.
We joined one of the many queues encircling the behemoth structure, the endless stream of martial artists filing in like ants converging on a titanic carcass.
It took nearly an hour, but eventually, it was our turn to sign in, our masters and Majima having entered from the opposite side to avoid any chance of meeting in the preliminaries.
A haggard-looking man with a collar affixed to his neck greeted us, his eyes dull and despairing. "Next," he drawled, his tone utterly devoid of emotion.
Zack stepped forward, visibly trying to avert his gaze from the disturbing accessory adorning the man's throat. "Zack Hammers," he stated firmly.
The man typed Zack's name into the computer, his expression impassive until he reached a particular line in the entry.
Suddenly, his demeanor shifted, his eyes blazing with an unmistakable hatred that sent a chill racing down my spine.
Without warning, he flung a token at Zack's face, the metallic disc shimmering with a kaleidoscope of iridescent colors.
Zack caught it deftly, his brow furrowing as he examined the strange emblem.
"Wear it and get out of my face, devil-spawn," the man spat, his words laced with venom as he slammed his fist on the counter. "Next!"
Zack affixed the token to his martial arts gi, his expression a mask of bewilderment and consternation.
As he scanned the crowd, it became apparent that the tokens sported by the other participants were uniformly black, red, or yellow – a stark contrast to the kaleidoscopic hues of his own.
It was my turn next. The thin, haunted-looking man seemed to regard me with the same weary despondence. "Name?" he rasped, his voice little more than a haunted whisper.
"Miu Furinji," I replied, wincing at the utter desolation etched into his features.
His frown deepened as he typed in my name, and for a fleeting moment, something akin to pity flickered across his hollow gaze. "My condolences," he murmured, handing me a golden token emblazoned with 108 shimmering rainbow stars.
Waves of grief and unbridled fury crashed over me in equal measure as I clutched the token tightly, my entire body trembling.
Was this Hanma's idea of a sick joke, a twisted mockery of my grandfather's legacy?
Blinking back hot tears of rage, I hastily affixed the token to my gi, nearly pricking my skin with its sharp edges in my haste.
Without another word, I stormed off, my vision blurred by a crimson haze of wrath Zack followed me, confusion still writ on
Hanma's depravity knew no bounds, but I would not allow his taunts and insults to break my resolve.
We would endure this crucible, no matter how agonizing or demeaning.
And when the time came, when our strength had transcended the mortal plane itself, that monster would pay a thousandfold for every slight, every atrocity.
I would see to it personally.
Zack POV.
What the f*ck was that?
No, seriously...what the hell? What had I ever done to provoke such naked hatred from that miserable looking man? His face had contorted with visceral loathing the moment he laid eyes on my name, as if my mere existence was an unbearable insult.
I tried to shake off the searing image, to push it from my mind and focus on the task at hand. But it clung to me like a miasma, a festering disquiet that made my skin crawl.
Miu approached from behind, no doubt registering the turmoil churning within me.
Rather than intrude, she simply stood by in silent solidarity as I slipped into a meditative state, seeking equilibrium in the eye of the raging storm.
Moments trickled by as I embraced the new yet familiar flow of ki coursing through my being, using the currents of energy to sift through the maelstrom of emotions.
Confusion bled into determination, a renewed sense of purpose solidifying with each steadying breath.
Opening my eyes, I turned to face Miu, gently wiping away the tears that had traced shimmering paths down her cheeks.
Our gazes met and locked, an entire unspoken conversation passing between us in that charged moment. Reaching out, I took her hand in mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"He'll pay," I vowed, my voice a low, resolute rumble. "No matter how long it takes, we'll make it true."
Miu nodded, her lips curving in a fragile approximation of a smile even as fresh anguish flickered behind her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer some words of solidarity or defiance...
Only to be drowned out by the booming, arrogant tones of Hanma himself, his voice echoing through the cavernous expanse of the stadium.
"Now, I'll just say a few things before we get this started."
Our heads snapped toward the massive jumbotron looming above, Hanma's smug countenance dominating the screen with an almost palpable menace. He was reveling in this, I realized - delighting in the fear and uncertainty roiling through the massed ranks of participants like a virus.
"You'll notice that you each have a circular badge on your chest, or pants, or wherever the hell you wanted to put it," he sneered, his contempt dripping from every word like acidic venom. "You could have even affixed it to your bare flesh for all I care. The important thing is the color."
His pitiless gaze seemed to sweep over the assembled throngs, daring any to meet his stare.
"Let's start with the black tokens and get to the important people." A cruel smile split his features as he singled out a hapless section of the crowd. "Now, when a man comes in and invites you for a fight, a man who just made an entire country sit the f*ck down with his bare hands, and you come here without potential or strength...what is a man to do?"
He gave a negligent nod to someone behind the camera, and a tremulous voice drifted through the speakers.
"D-Do I really have to...?"
Hanma's look of contemptuous derision said it all. With a weary sigh, as if entertaining the idiocy of lesser beings was a tedious chore, he turned back to the camera with a vindictive glint in his eye.
And all around us, those unfortunate souls branded with the black tokens doubled over, clutching at their chests as blood began to pour from every orifice in grotesque crimson streams.
The sound of hundreds collapsing in unbearable agony was a haunting cacophony, a chorus of abject suffering that seemed to reverberate through my very bones.
Yet Hanma appeared utterly unmoved, his twisted diatribe rolling on without pause or mercy.
"Those who are useless are not allowed here!" he roared, spittle flying from his lips in a perverse frenzy.
"This is supposed to be a battle of the very best, or at least a battle with those who have potential! You see those useless idiots?! They came here with 'I tried to learn martial arts' tokens! Purple belts?! Green belts?! What the f*ck is wrong with you people?!"
A ghastly quiet fell over the stadium as his tirade reached a fever pitch. Even from here, I could see the despair and horror etched onto the faces of those who still drew breath, the grim reality of Hanma's brutality sinking its hooks into their psyches.
When he spoke again, it was with a calculated coldness that somehow proved even more chilling than his earlier outburst.
"Now, you'll see some people with 5th Dan black belts! That is the minimum..." He let the words hang in the air like a tangible weight, daring anyone to question his authority.
"Yes, you are halfway to actually learning Ki. You are the red tokens, you who are 5th dan until 10th dan! Upon losing here and somehow surviving, you have 4 years to learn Ki. Then that token will turn black and activate if you don't! It won't come off, I guarantee it!"
An anticipatory hush fell over the crowd as the cruel implications sank in. To be branded, quite literally, as subhuman detritus to be culled at Hanma's whim...it was a fate worse than death itself.
"Once you learn Ki, it will turn yellow, and you can come back and fight like something close to a real man!" That same bestial leer, like a predator toying with helpless prey. "Not that any of you people here are real men!"
His mocking laughter cut like razors through the oppressive atmosphere, a sound utterly devoid of mirth or humanity. Letting his gaze drift across the gathered masses, he sneered once more.
"Those with yellow tokens, there's nothing special about you..." An almost bored dismissal, as if these paltry souls beneath his notice. "But I'm not gonna execute you. That's your opponent's prerogative. You might die in a fight, or you might not. Really depends on who you're fighting!"
A cruel bark of laughter, harsh and grating, preceded his next words.
"Those with the green tokens, few as you may be, are those who have potential and strength." The words hung heavy, a backhanded acknowledgment that stung more than any rebuke. "Those of you who are at the expert level or above and still growing, rocketing forward! You get to skip the preliminaries."
He bestowed them with a mocking golf clap, his lip curling in a sneer of undisguised contempt.
"Those of you with the special tokens, the ones with the cool designs based off of other people..." Another dismissive flick of his gaze across the dwindling sea of onlookers. "You already know why. I won't repeat it."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Miu's jaw tighten, her knuckles paling to bloodless white as her fingers knotted into trembling fists.
"You twenty-three few who have the shiny rainbow tokens!" he crowed, his handsome features twisting into a leering rictus grin. "Now! You have a little bit of me in you, don't you?! A little bit of devil in you! A little bit of backbone!"
His eyes seemed to burn with manic glee, the terrible exultation of a god reveling in its own twisted creation. When he spoke again, his tone dripped with paternal pride and sad*stic relish in equal, horrifying measure.
"Hello, my wayward children...come to kill me! Good luck!"
And suddenly, the awful reality came crashing down upon me in waves.
The token adorning my gi, shimmering with bloody, iridescent light...
Hanma's rapturous gaze searing into me, into all those who bore that brand...
A cold lance of apprehension lanced through me, raising every hair on the back of my neck.
"My Little Hanma's!"
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