Chapter 57: Not Too Much

"Stop, stop, stop!" In the octagonal cage of the fighting club, Coach Oda, who was responsible for teaching Tsukasa Aoki ground techniques, was frantically tapping on Tsukasa’s calf, crying out in pain for him to stop.

Tsukasa climbed off him, releasing the tightly locked arm, and offered an awkward smile. "Sorry, I guess I used a bit too much strength without realizing it..."

Coach Oda forced a wry smile, rubbing his shoulder before finally sitting up. He looked rather astonished. "What's gotten into you today? You used to be exhausted by this point, but now you're full of energy."

Of course, Tsukasa couldn’t say that it was because his stamina attribute had increased. He scratched his head sheepishly. "Actually, I've been practicing kendo at school lately, and since I didn’t have much going on over the weekend, I guess I managed to save up some energy."

Coach Oda suddenly understood. "No wonder you seem stronger today."

"Heh." Tsukasa chuckled, glancing over as Iwa Matsuyama approached, a towel draped over his shoulders, sweat streaming down his face.

Matsuyama’s tank top was soaked, and the muscles on his powerful arms stood out, evidence of a recent workout.

He walked over to Tsukasa and patted Coach Oda’s shoulder. "How’s this kid doing?"

Coach Oda offered genuine praise. "He’s improving at an incredible pace. To be honest, he no longer looks like a beginner at all. Most people would need at least six months of hard work to reach his level."

Tsukasa raised an eyebrow at Matsuyama’s surprised expression. Just a moment ago, his mixed martial arts skill had leveled up to three.

[Mixed Martial Arts LV3: Your MMA skills are now recognizable. Whether it’s stand-up striking or ground submissions, you have enough technique to hold your own, though only just enough to compete. Don’t take your hobby to challenge a professional. Strength +1, Agility +1, Stamina +1. Experience (6/300)]

"You…" Matsuyama chuckled at Tsukasa’s raised brow. "Alright, looks like you’re in good shape. I’ll pretend I didn’t notice you skipped practice yesterday."

He turned to Coach Oda. "If he wants to improve quickly, what should we do next?" Matsuyama took a long drink from his water bottle and let out a satisfied breath.

Coach Oda considered carefully. "He’s ready for some real sparring now. He’s got the basics down; what he needs is practice to refine them. His talent is obvious—these moves won’t take him long to master. We can set up some opponents for him, let him test his skills in actual combat."

Matsuyama narrowed his eyes, then suddenly asked, "How long do you think it’ll take before he can beat Arlong?"

Coach Oda paused, unable to give a straight answer.

Matsuyama shook his head and sighed, self-deprecating. "That was my mistake—asking too soon."

Tsukasa glanced at Matsuyama’s somewhat disheartened face, hesitated, and then asked gently, "Did something happen with him again?"

Matsuyama’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded. "Sort of… That brat’s found himself a new gym."

"You mean…?" Tsukasa frowned.

Matsuyama gestured for Coach Oda to take a break, leaving him alone with Tsukasa in the cage. His voice was heavy. "He’s signed with another boxing club. He’ll be competing under their name in the upcoming Rising Star Tournament."

"You didn’t sign a contract with him?" Tsukasa was shocked. He’d assumed a fighter like Arlong, who’d trained with Matsuyama for so long, would have signed some kind of agreement. Why was he suddenly fighting for someone else?

Matsuyama smiled helplessly. "He’s my nephew, so I didn’t think much of it at the time. Training him didn’t cost me much, so I never bothered with paperwork…"

He picked up the focus mitts from the cage and motioned for Tsukasa to punch, his tone calm. "Do you have any dreams?"

Tsukasa started hitting the mitts in a steady rhythm as he spoke. "Dreams, huh… I guess mine is to get through these three years of high school safely, see how college goes, and mainly, to make more money. I want to do what I like, travel the world, and see all the things I want to see."

"And then, hopefully, find something I love and do it leisurely for the rest of my life. Marry a good wife, have a few cute kids, live a healthy, peaceful life. Oh, and I’d like my family and friends to stay safe and happy too. That’s probably my dream." As he spoke, Tsukasa couldn’t help but laugh a little at himself.

"Does it sound too unambitious?" He changed the rhythm, continuing to hit the mitts.

Matsuyama looked surprised. "No, I actually think it’s great. It’s just… I thought most boys your age wouldn’t think that way."

"I remember when I was young, I wanted to become Asia’s first world-class heavyweight champion." Matsuyama’s face was full of nostalgia. "But when I finally turned pro, I realized just how many truly strong people there are out there."

"Forget about becoming a world champion—I couldn’t even break out of the Asian circuit by the time I retired." There was a hint of bitterness in Matsuyama’s eyes as he moved the mitts for Tsukasa, sighing.

He stopped, looked at Tsukasa earnestly, and said, "My dream now is to train a fighter good enough to accomplish what I couldn’t."

"I used to pin that dream on Arlong." Matsuyama hung his head, pointing at the cage floor. "Right here, Arlong and I shed countless drops of sweat. I poured all my effort into him, watched him grow from a scrawny middle schooler to where he is now. I really thought he was the one who could fulfill my dream."

"But in the end…" Matsuyama’s fists clenched in frustration. "He became more and more arrogant. He had the talent and strength, but… well, you saw how things ended up."

Tsukasa stayed silent. Objectively speaking, he was the main reason for their falling out, and he didn’t know how to comfort Matsuyama.

Matsuyama took a deep breath, his pain and sorrow unmistakable, but when he looked at Tsukasa, a sudden light appeared in his eyes. "Do you think you can do it?"

"Wha—what?" Tsukasa was startled by the intensity of his gaze.

"In two months, at the Rising Star Tournament, can you wake him up for me?" Matsuyama swung his fist fiercely, eyes full of hope. "Can you do it?"

Tsukasa pressed his lips together, gaze lowering. After a long silence, he finally looked up. "You know I’m not that interested in fighting."

Matsuyama’s face fell.

"But I do like this job. If you’ll give me a raise for beating him up good, I think I can manage." Tsukasa smiled.

In a heartbeat, Matsuyama’s expression changed from disappointment to excitement, then to seriousness. "If you can give that brat a proper beating in the tournament, forget a raise—I’ll give you a share of the club!"

Tsukasa’s eyes went wide. "Seriously… just how rich are you?!"

Matsuyama, the muscular giant, actually looked a little shy. "Well, my father gave me about a billion or so to start my business—not that much."

Holy crap?!!! Tsukasa was utterly dumbfounded.