Kengan Alternative
Ch. 6: The First Victor
The two fighters met in the arena centre, Florentino Avila's iron-sharp fists and elbows met by Abijheet Sultana's unflinching determination. A short exchange of hand strikes came first, flurries of Florentino's short range power strikes turned aside by Abijheet's simple, yet effective, guard.
"I don't get it, though." Agnes Dovraga said, watching the fighters clash. "I've fought Avila, he's got a wealth of techniques that can force an opponent back. Liver blows, throat shots, going for the groin, the floating ribs… why's he stuck trying to pummel Abhijeet like this?" She asked the other two, and Kure Shishō was the one to respond.
"Simply put, everything you mentioned is a strike that is designed to cause pain. An attack doesn't need to cause lasting injury, but enough pain can make someone black out with very little effort." He nudged Sansone Maciste next to him "Isn't that right, Mr. Judoka?"
"Sure, joint locks are designed to hurt an opponent enough that you can stop them moving entirely, it's one of the core principles of grappling." The giant replied "But if Abhijeet down there doesn't feel pain…"
"...Then he's sealed off every attack like that." Agnes finished. "Right. So short of killing him, Florentino doesn't have much to go on…"
"He's not even trying to strike back!" Florentino thought, watching the defensive movements of his opponents arms, before he glanced down just in time to see Sultanas thigh muscles twitch. Instinct overtook him, and he swayed sideways as Abijheet sprang off his unbroken leg, snapping the same leg out in a kick. He spun into it as Sultanas foot sliced a neat cut into his bicep and shoulder, whipping around and unleashing a spinning back elbow at Sultanas head, only noticing at the last second the manic grin across his opponents face.
Sultana knew the elbow was going to come as soon as he saw Avila spin past his kick, and dropped just as it scraped along his brow. Collapsing into a low stance, one arm bracing himself, he shot his *broken* leg up, straight into his middle, heel driven directly beneath the sternum.
"Such a vicious kick with a broken leg!?" The announcer screamed, as Florentino was blown back, coughing blood. "What the hell is Sultana made of? Looks like it'll take more than a little pain to keep him down!"
Sultana grinned, watching Avila straighten up, sucking against the pain in his chest. The nerve cluster there was an effective weak point, causing immense pain for those who still felt it. Humans were just animals, after all, reacting to their bodies' stimuli in predictable ways.
Then, involuntarily, he blinked as blood dripped down into his eyes. Wiping it away, he felt the fresh cut over his brow, left there by the elbow. The blood was a constant stream, and Avila cursed as he felt his eyelids twitch, trying to shut out the blood by themselves. Was this Florentino's plan? Or just bad luck?
And those few moments of distraction let an elbow connect with his temple, hard. Florentino recovered, and brought a storm of elbows into Abijheet's upper body.
"Gotta rattle his brain." Avila thought, throwing wild swings into the reeling fighter "I can't hurt him, so I've got to batter him till he can't stand anymore. No finesse, no skill, just strength."
Sultana tried to open space, to counter attack, anything, but the onslaught, coupled with his half blind state, cut him off at every angle. There were no options left, barring the detestable one.
"Enough, you bastard." He exhaled, letting his body go slack, like his muscles were dripping from his bones. Just like they taught him. "To think I'd have to use their techniques."
He waited for a single moment, just one, during Florentino's next swing. His eyes dilated as the elbow came rocketing in, caked in blood, powered by the fury of his opponent.
Dar Clan Secret Technique: Shadow
Florentino's elbow connected with nothing, as though he blinked, and within that fraction of a second, Sultana had vanished. He turned, expecting an attack from behind, but nobody was there. Adrenaline spiked, time slowing as his body tried to protect him from some unseen threat. He noticed, too late, a shadow descending.
A foot connected hard on the back of his neck, driving him to his knees with the weight of an entire person landing on him. A second impact came after, sharp and heavy, against the back of his skull. Florentino fell, feeling as though the ground had rushed up to catch him. Dazed and concussed, he looked up from the ground as Abijheet descended a third time, feet first towards his head. He had to move, only one chance lef-
CRUNCH
Abijheet drove both feet downwards, a hellish stomp exploding in a spray of blood and the cracking of cartilage. His own broken leg grated with a horrible sound, but it was done. He stepped off the limp body of his opponent, and began to walk from the arena, not even waiting for the referee to call the fight.
"WINNER! ABHIJEET SULTANAAAA!" the ref yelled, and the crowd roared for the victor, their bloodlust sated for now.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT LAST MOVE!?" Screamed Setsuko Morioka over the crowd swept up in their excitement, or perhaps the one conducting it. "What an ending to the first fight of the tournament! We're gonna have a short break, then get ready for our next fight!"
"Did either of you two see that last move?" Sansone asked the other fighters.
"You mean the stomp?"
"No! Before that! It was like… Sultana had vanished or something! That was like some Dragonball shit!"
"Well he can't have teleported, that's impossible!"
"Then how d'you do something like that?"
Sansone and Agnes began arguing over how a fighter could possibly be that fast, and between them Shishō quietly watched Sultana walk into the tunnel at the corner of the arena. There used to be a clan of assassins based in India, with some very eclectic techniques. They were wiped out years back, but what if at least one survived…
MATCH 1 WINNER: ABIJHEET SULTANA
WIN BY: VERTICAL DROPKICK
Florentino Avila blinked awake, feeling the effects of the fight taking their toll. He laid in the medical ward, bandages around his cuts, a plaster holding his nose in place from it being reset. The nurse said it should heal up fine, but it didn't bother him too much if it didn't
"...Damnit. " he whispered, the shame at having lost the first fight feeling worse than the injuries he took. Fighting in matches like this was never a goal for him, only the means to an end. The fight money would've gone to somebody who needed it. Luna Brubaka, his adoptive father, teacher, and the man he owed his life to.
Twenty four years ago.
"Okay, elbows up, step forwards slightly." Luna Brubaka said, taking the same stance as the kid next to him. "Next, twist into it, feel your core doing the work, and let it move up your back and down your shoulder." He twisted, swinging out an elbow strike. The kid followed his instruction, over-extending the twist and spinning his entire body, falling over.
"...Not bad!" He laughed, helping the child up "but let's try it this time without the fall!"
The child was doing better than when he found him, scared and hungry in that crate, and felt a rush of parental love at the child he'd raised for the last year. He wished there was something more he could do for the kid, but the Brubaka Style was all he knew, so he could at least give the kid that.
Four years ago.
"Okay, so I've been doing some scrounging." Florentino said, sitting next to Luna's bedside. He was thinner now, muscles fallen away and his stomach bloated. The liver disease had eaten away at him for years now, but it was only over the last month they had realised how bad it was.
"We can remortgage, I sell the car, a few other things as well, and that almost gets us halfway to meeting the bill."
"Florentino…"
"I've taken another job, so that's an extra paycheck coming in to cover costs, we can live off that one while the others go towards savings."
"Florentino…"
"Course, we might need to borrow money, but I've spoken to the bank today, and they've arranged for me to speak to-"
"Florentino." Luna cut him off with a hand placed on his "It's fine, don't worry. You don't need to do all this for me."
"But dad, I…"
"I didn't raise you so you could hold down four jobs, sleeping two nights a week so you can pay for an old man's medication!" He smiled, reaching for a beer bottle that Florentino moved out of his reach. "I want you to live happily, okay?"
There was a pause, as the two men struggled with what to say next. Finally, Florentino spoke.
"I promise that I'll find a way. Don't argue, I'm going to do something about this. Okay?"
He stood to leave, and Luna smiled behind him.
"Well, I did train him to never give up."
"You're thinking of your dad, aren't you?" A voice spoke. Florentino knew without looking that it was his company's CEO, Mark Dizon, come to visit. "You always stare off into the middle distance when you think about him.
"It's just…" Avila trailed off slightly, looking for the right words "the plan was to win the tournament, and use the money to pay for a transplant… but now…"
"Transplant? Oh, for the liver… OH!" Mark exclaimed, making Avila start "Didn't I tell you? I'd already paid for that! Pulled some strings, found a suitable donor!"
Avila blinked, his heart suddenly beating faster.
"Wh...what?"
"Yeah, I found it like a month ago, he should be going for surgery in a week, I could've sworn I told you…"
"But… why? Why do that for me?"
"Because, you idiot," Mark replied with the air of somebody explaining that the earth is round "I can't have my top fighter being distracted by stuff like this! I pay for your gym and training gear, I'm going to pay for whatever else you need to be in top form!"
If not for the injuries keeping him in the bed, Avila would have hugged him.
"That's the only reason?"
"Well, it was also just the right thing to do, y'know?" Mark continued sheepishly, scratching the back of his head "But this way I could claim it as a business expense. I'm gonna get a drink from the machine, you want anything?"
"...Water, please." Florentino replied, feeling like he was half in a dream. As his CEO left, he sank back into the bed, feeling like a massive knot of stress had been loosened. Losing suddenly lost the sting it had before, and all he had to contend with now was the dull throb in his nose.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU READY FOR FIGHT NUMBER 2!?" roared Setsuko Morioka, answered by the crowd's own screams. "Our first fighter single handedly recreated the Sameha style of Burmese Vale Tudo, from striking to grappling, this man has no weaknesses! First Lethwei, then Naban, and now Kengan, THE TIGER SHARK, KISHIMURA AKAROU!"
The tanned fighter smiled widely as the cheers rose to his name, showing off a set of sharp, shark tooth-like incisors, smoothing the brown hair back from his scarred brow. He cringed inwardly at the announcer's "no weaknesses" remark, which put a lot of pressure on him, but it didn't change how he planned to win. Akarou confidently turned to his opponent's tunnel with a Lekkha Moun gesture, but saw no one.
"And opposing him" Setsuko began "is a true man of mystery. Many fighters claim to practice secret techniques, and special martial arts, but only one out of all of them can claim to understand the true mystical arts! His performances have blown people away the world over, thrilling, death defying, *physics* defying! And now he's here to work his magic on these fighters, LORENZO ROMANO, THE MAGICIAN!"
He never entered from the tunnel. In a flash of pyrotechnic lights and sparks, and a flock of doves, Lorenzo Romano appeared dead centre of the arena floor, dramatically throwing off a cape and top hat to reveal a mature, beaming face and impressive handlebar moustache.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I do hope you enjoy the show!" he called out, turning with his arms spread, basking in their cheers and applause. He bowed deeply, turning as he did so, finishing the bow facing Akarou. Slowly, dramatically, he raised to look at him, still smiling.
"Well then, kid, are we ready to start the show?"