Chapter Twenty-Two: The Frustrated A-Long

Clenching down hard on his mouthguard, Aoki Tsukasa fixed his gaze on A Long, whose face was relaxed as he flexed his gloves and swayed nimbly back and forth atop the octagonal cage.

“Ready!” Matsuyama Iwa, acting as referee, signaled for the two men to touch gloves in salute, then stepped aside. Aoki Tsukasa moved his body stiffly, making sure to keep facing A Long, doing his best to avoid exposing any openings.

“Begin!”

What Aoki Tsukasa considered a solid guard was, in A Long’s eyes, riddled with vulnerabilities. His nearly motionless footwork left his center of gravity blatantly exposed, and from his raised fists, tucked chin, and bent waist, it was clear Aoki Tsukasa was bracing himself to take a beating. Against such an opponent, A Long didn’t even bother to raise his guard.

A Long grinned viciously. Without a word, he hopped deftly a few steps, luring Aoki Tsukasa’s center of gravity lower, then suddenly unleashed a high roundhouse kick, swift as a shooting star, arcing straight for Aoki Tsukasa’s head.

So fast!

Aoki Tsukasa fought the urge to flinch, forcing his eyes wide open to follow the trajectory of the kick. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to read the power or target of an attack by watching his opponent’s knees or waist. By the time he realized the target of A Long’s kick, it was too late to retreat—he had no choice but to take the blow head-on.

Luckily, his knowledge of kickboxing told him how best to block to minimize the impact. Aoki Tsukasa threw his left arm up to guard and twisted his body to the right, hoping to lessen the blow.

Smack!

It was hard to believe a high kick could make such a sharp sound. The instant it landed, Aoki Tsukasa felt a searing pain shoot through the bones of his left forearm, but his quick mind gave him enough time to react; his head suffered only a glancing blow, much of the force dispersed by his movement.

But this was only A Long’s opening strike.

Seeing his kick blocked, A Long instantly shifted his stance, spinning his body to deliver a vicious front kick.

Aoki Tsukasa had to stop his movement abruptly, crossing his arms before him to take the brunt of the kick.

Thud! The deep, bone-jarring sound sent a chill up one’s spine. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Aoki Tsukasa stumbled two steps back, using the impact to put some distance between them.

A Long shot a surprised look at Aoki Tsukasa, impressed by his resilience, but showed no mercy. He charged forward, leading with a left jab, followed by a straight punch, a right hook, an uppercut, then low kicks from both legs—a relentless barrage that poured down on Aoki Tsukasa like a violent storm.

Despite his superhuman reflexes and sharp vision, Aoki Tsukasa couldn’t track every strike, let alone defend against them all. Even when he could see them coming, his body often wasn’t fast enough to respond.

The octagon echoed with the sound of blows landing, and Aoki Tsukasa staggered, barely able to stay on his feet.

A tricky hook broke through his collapsing guard and slammed hard into his jaw. Though Aoki Tsukasa’s body was tough, without the benefit of conditioning, the punch rattled his brain and plunged his vision into darkness.

A Long watched as Aoki Tsukasa reeled back, barely kept upright by the cage wall. A flicker of pity flashed in his eyes, but he quickly steeled himself: all he needed now was to grab Tsukasa’s head for a Muay Thai knee, follow up with a heavy punch, and it would be a clean KO.

Years of experience let A Long judge Aoki Tsukasa’s state instantly.

He stepped forward decisively and seized the back of Aoki Tsukasa’s head.

“Ahhh!!” A roar, suppressed deep in his throat, suddenly burst out. Instinctively, A Long sensed something was wrong.

The man who had been swaying unsteadily, barely able to stand with the help of the cage, suddenly clamped down on A Long’s shoulders with a vice-like grip. One leg hooked behind A Long’s supporting leg. A Long felt a tremendous force shove him, and, tripped by the leg, he lost his balance and was sent crashing to the ground.

Aoki Tsukasa immediately straddled A Long’s torso, locking his arms around the back of A Long’s neck, clinging to him like an octopus.

The impact of the fall left A Long dazed, but his wealth of experience kicked in and he instinctively tried to break free. That was when he realized his opponent’s strength was astonishing. No matter how he tried to wedge his arms in to push Tsukasa away, he couldn’t even create a sliver of space!

A Long began thrashing wildly, hoping to shift his center of gravity and roll to his side to stand up, but found Aoki Tsukasa’s balance was preternaturally steady. No matter how he struggled or in which direction, Aoki Tsukasa instantly adjusted to keep him pinned.

Both men panted heavily, muscles straining in the struggle on the canvas. On the sidelines, Matsuyama Iwa’s eyes suddenly lit up. He stepped forward, crouched, and observed their entanglement carefully, quickly discerning the reason Aoki Tsukasa could keep A Long subdued.

It was pure fighting instinct!

This wasn’t about technique, nor was it just brute strength. Matsuyama Iwa felt as if he’d discovered a gold nugget buried in the sand. Watching Aoki Tsukasa—eyes barely open, face bloodied, jaws clenched as he locked A Long in place—Matsuyama’s face split into an excited grin.

If this kid developed a bit more technique and used it here—say, a “Hell’s Gate” hold or an armbar—he could’ve TKO’d A Long right now!

The more Matsuyama watched, the more he saw Aoki Tsukasa as a treasure. He wasn’t just strong, he had remarkable athletic instincts. Even during the earlier kickboxing exchanges, his reaction speed and dynamic vision were extraordinary. And now, his innate physical instinct—this kid was an absolute natural!

A born fighter!

Matsuyama glanced at his stopwatch. Only ten seconds left in the minute.

A Long had no idea what Matsuyama was thinking. All he knew was that it felt like a mountain had fallen on him—no matter how he struggled, he couldn’t create even the smallest gap.

With great effort, A Long managed to push Aoki Tsukasa back a little, but the stubborn bald guy immediately pressed down again. Cramped in this position, A Long’s punches landed on Tsukasa with barely a fraction of their usual force. He fumed inwardly at being manhandled by this brute—who clung tight and refused to let go. At least use some technique and finish me already!

It was infuriating!

A Long nearly bit through his mouthguard.

Aoki Tsukasa, gasping for breath, poured all his remaining strength into the hold. His ordinary stamina was rapidly burning away, transforming into a crushing pressure. In his dazed mind, only one thought remained: Lock him down. When the time is up, I win.

“Three, two, one!” Matsuyama slung his stopwatch back around his neck and patted Aoki Tsukasa’s back, calling out, “Time’s up! Let go, both of you!”

Only half-aware, Aoki Tsukasa heard Matsuyama’s voice, released his grip, and collapsed limply onto the mat.

His face was sticky with something thick.

He reached up to touch it—his vision was filled with red.

His mind still foggy, a large hand yanked him upright. He blinked and saw that it was the burly Matsuyama, who helped him to his feet and sat him down by the cage.

Soon, Matsuyama returned with a wet towel and some water, wiping Aoki Tsukasa’s face.

The cold water revived him immediately.

“Did I… pass? Am I a certified intermediate sparring partner now?” Aoki Tsukasa tried to grin, but pain flared in his swollen face—he must look like a pig’s head by now. He prodded at the swelling, hissing from the pain.

A satisfied smile spread across Matsuyama’s fierce features. “Not bad, kid.”

“Really impressive.”

A Long watched the two bald giants on the sidelines, looking for all the world like a couple of lovers. The fact that he—a veteran—had been pinned motionless by a novice filled him with rage. He suddenly slammed his fist against the mat in frustration.

“Damn it!”