A handful of shuriken whizzed through the air, chasing after the back of an aged samurai with grey hair, a white dogi, and a silver-colored coat hanging loosely over his shoulders. The swordsman turned his head back to notice the incoming projectiles, and his cape rustled and swung around. Instead of being a shield merely to conceal the samurai, however, the spinning cloak entrapped the shuriken and let them fall to the ground with meek clinks after the samurai in a short-sleeve white dogi shook his removed cloak to release the tools it had captured.
The careful eyes of the veteran of decades of service to his lord scanned the battlefield, trying to determine where his assailant might have been. His first instinct was to gaze at the direct end of the trajectory where the sharp stars had flown from, but that rock of risen debris appeared to have been empty. He was being hunted, that much was for sure. Konishi Gokojin had to hand it to his hunter. His stealth skills were some of the upper ends among the ninja he had faced during his years of service.
The next thought was to examine the shuriken themselves to better understand what he was dealing with. They didn't appear to be poisoned from the elementary visual and touching inspection. Though they seemed to be made of some incredibly durable carbon-based alloy that would've been more expensive to craft weapons from than it would've been worth. Swordsmen spent most of their time and entrusted their life to their sword, but this material would've been simply too difficult to forge. Even covering a blade's edge with it would've cost a little fortune. Crafting an entire tool, let alone a long-range projectile one risked getting stuck somewhere or losing, seemed like an overkill.
A loud pop made Konishi stagger back and move his hand to cover his nose while still clutching his sheathed sword. An amateur mistake would've been to draw it prematurely and either limit oneself to a two-handed sword-fighting stance or holding a scabbard in one hand and the blade in the other. Konishi needed his entire body to be free and able to react in whichever way he thought was best to avoid death at this silent killer's hands. Thus, the sword remained in its sheath until Konishi was certain he could make a clean cut.
The smoke that came from the popped smoke bomb was black. Konishi felt a sting at the nostrils. It wasn't pepper powder or smashed and ground glass particles, not the usual suspects ninja employed. The color of the cloud and the shuriken Konishi dealt with earlier suggested that this assassin was disinterested in using poison. Though there was a certain bitterness to the dust and it went into Konishi's lungs uninvited, clinging up deep down somewhere and making it hard to breathe. Almost like it was hogging all the oxygen to itself. That was some fancy gas from an already plenty-sophisticated cutthroat.
"Don't tell me…" Konishi muttered to himself, wheezing and coughing up charcoal-colored powder from his lungs and nose. "This dust is the same material…"
A double-foot dive kick sent Konishi sliding across the tiles. Before he could fully understand what rocked his world, the assassin was all over him again. The assassin dressed in black. Normally it'd have been a laughable attempt at disguising oneself, but in the night's pitch or with clouds of charcoal powder smoke in the air–it made the assailant nigh invisible. White eyes flashing with blurry trails, like trails of night lights, further confused Konishi, but the swordsman had fended off kill squads of ninja with handfuls of shattered glass in his eyes and called it Thursday.
The hunter's punches packed a wallop. Enough for the thunderous slam to intimidate Konishi a bit and notice it. He had to contend with heavenly swordsmen and he's slain plenty of mercenary scum, some of them hit much harder than this man, but some punches felt like being hit by a sledgehammer in full swing, and some of them felt like they packed a full megaton blast behind them. A brawler like this one could've punched out a sky-scraping summoned animal with one shot, so it confused Konishi why this assailant fought in such secrecy and employed such underhanded methods.
"Divine Punishment Style: Buddha's Halo!" Konishi chanted out, drawing a sword in a split instant with such swiftness that in a blink a white ring of light flashed around him. He drew the sword and swung it in a full 360 rotation faster than anyone or anything could exploit seeing his exposed back and returned to his standing sword-drawing stance so fast that, to a neutral observer, he may not moved at all.
Based on the dull thud and dragging noises across the tiles, his opponent took a hit. The force of impact would've flung any lesser man out of the arena's bounds or killed most men outright. It was only when Konishi walked out from the smoke cloud and got a better look at the opponent he faced that he realized why his opponent merely got the wind knocked out of him and didn't meet their end to the wide-range sword drawing technique.
"This armor you wear. It is made of the same alloy as your throwing stars and the powder of which comprises that smoke cloud, is that right?" Konishi asked straight while standing in front of the fallen warrior who rolled back before transitioning into a series of flips, then vaulting a few times again and landing on his feet. This one had the agility and flexibility of a fine ninja, though his gear suggested a vastly superior pay. If this was something this man had bought from his own mission rewards, they should've been a far superior warrior to earn this much within a lifetime.
"Carbon-based nanotubes," the assailant replied with a husky, low-pitched voice. It had a trace of artificial voicebox tuning, but not enough to make him sound fiendish, like the Kirigakure's Demon Ops used it. This one wanted to sound human, but to make his voice indistinguishable and staticky.
"I see… Modern-day technology is truly impressive, it is a pity that all of our breakthroughs focus on the aspects of military and warfare," Konishi sighed in disappointment. The moment he closed his eyes, a chink separated a few flexible armor plates and dropped a chunk of his attacker's armor to the ground. The revelation that his armor took noticeable damage left the odd-looking assassin stunned.
The man wore a full-body titanium fiber bodysuit underneath the plates of his carbon-based nanotube armor. It was all black and blacker than high as the eyes could see except for the curious star-shaped helmet with horizontal, crescent moon-shaped white eye goggles. Konishi's cut hit one of the thickest parts of the man's armored suit and left it broken and down on the ground in a blink. This must've made this star-head realize just how dangerous and powerful his opponent was.
"That is a curious outfit for someone doing his best to remain hidden. You are a man of contrasts. A man with incredible physical strength who employs stealth. Someone with an unbelievable amount of money and flair invested into his gimmick, yet never letting your targets see and admire any of it," Konishi noted, drawing his sword and taking it up with both hands now that his opponent was out of hiding and right in front of him.
"Heroics isn't about being admired or thanked. It's about doing what you compel yourself to do," the superhero said while putting up his dukes and letting his armored gauntlets transform and pop out a joined pair of tonfa sticks. While Konishi had contended against a samurai wielding tonfas, he had never seen a pair of tonfas being used on one hand. It felt like too much of a hassle to manage so that expensive suit of armor this superhero wore must've aided him with it.
A dull bang spread from the armored superhero. Kunai, with thick steel wire attached to their other end, shot off of his shoulder plates. Konishi raised his sword but, instead of trying to skewer him, the kunai wrapped around the sword resulting in a ranged grapple. The woven strands of steel wire sang with a high-pitched reel as the grappling gear reeled the armored hero in for a left haymaker. The locked tonfa flashed with bright blue electrical currents of billions of volts that engulfed Konishi in a bright electrical flash. Each devastating punch of the hero's beatdown preceded a terrifying shock.
The armored superhero took it to the air, landing with a dive kick as the jets installed into his greaves shot out flaming halos that damaged Konishi's dogi and left shallow burn marks all over his bruised body. Despite acknowledging the incredible hand-to-hand skill from his opponent's side, bolstered by his sophisticated hero's uniform, Konishi devoted his efforts not to a fruitless venture of attempting to defend himself, but to maintaining a tight grip of his sword that still had grappling kunai locked around it.
Metallic chinks and clanks resonated around the superhero's knees, to his feet as titanium frames split off of his armor and connected into hydraulic pumps that smacked Konishi in the chin with a motherlode of all roundhouses, shooting him off into the air. The superhero wrapped his gloves around the grappling hook still latched to Konishi's sword which the samurai refused to let go of and reeled him back into a jumping spin kick but no matter how much the armored hero yo-yoed his opponent around, Konishi refused to let go of his sword.
Instead of continuing to punch and kick his opponent with his taser gauntlets, the armored superhero extended his wrists and de-transformed his taser and tonfa frames to shoot off four strands of grappling steel wire from each knuckle of each hand. The tiny arrow points to which the wire was attached to jabbed into Konishi's body as the superhero grabbed hold of the network and began sending the veteran samurai flying like a human kite, slamming him down into the ground or spinning and smashing him through debris wreckage formations.
"Your devotion to your weapon is admirable. I've studied under a ronin by the name of Aoroki Tangemaru during my teen years and I found that the only times I could compete with him were when I disarmed him though saying it was much easier than doing it," the armored superhero disconnected and unraveled his network of grappling steel wires and returned them safely to his suit's storage reels as managing them has been getting troublesome even to him who stayed connected to his opponent during their collisions.
"What was your connection to Aoroki Tangemaru?" Konishi coughed and grunted while stumbling out from the rubble covered in dirt, bruises, and dust, yet keeping control of his sword. "He was quite a famous samurai, serving his lord for many years, and his decision to abandon his service still baffles many swordsmen."
"Aoroki-san was very sick. My family could offer him life in our manor on a warm climate island with a garden of fruit beneficial in managing his sickness, medical staff, and any amount of money to help him fend off the disease," the armored superhero replied, softening his tone when speaking about one of his many tutors and a man whom he respected very much during his days out of the hero's uniform. Having abandoned his real name and identity, even if he kept every modicum of respect for his old master, it didn't amount to much anymore.
"I see, it's a surprise to me that a man so dutiful and grim would seek to extend his life at the price of his honor as a samurai, but then again, none of us know how we would face a gloom like his sickness," Konishi sighed. "In the end, he probably lived a much longer life than he'd have lived as a healthy samurai retainer, so, even if it doesn't sound very samurai of me, I am glad for Aoroki and the life he lived. It appears he has realized something that took me my entire career to at last find out."
"It's not too late to change. That is the wonder of being a superhero–anyone can become one. It is a creed that doesn't pick and choose people based on their social standing, their skill or occupation, their race, age, sex, or religion. The only thing that matters to a superhero is a genuine desire to help people," the superhero reached out to the weathered samurai warrior.
"I apologize, but I must decline. I'm afraid that even after my awakening, my life is still not entirely my own. I still owe a debt to a kindred soul and I would die before I would stain his memory with the dishonor of abandoning his dream," Konishi looked down at the glistening edge of his blade, still as sharp as the time he received it as a gift. Still as sharp as the time that Konishi fought to live, instead of fighting to kill like he'd done proudly most of his life. "I fight now for the life and honor of two."
"Hmmm…" Konishi breathed out with a masculine hum. His kenki erupted outward from his body in a white blaze that ran down through his sword up to the tip. The star-headed superhero stumbled, shocked by the ethereal sight of another man in an incomplete suit of armor standing side by side with old man Konishi, turned to the right and pressing his back to Konishi's right shoulder. "Divine Punishment Style: Buddha Chop!"
A white crescent wave of kenki came flying right at the stupefied superhero, smashing into him with full force and sending armor chunks and pieces flying in all directions, ripping into carbon and titanium alike and folding them like sheets of tin. Battered and with a torn and cut-up bodysuit, with some angles of his star-shaped helmet chipped off and his bloody and gritting mouth exposed, the armored superhero shuffled and shambled back onto his feet even though shaking and bleeding profusely from his injuries.
"It appears that Aoroki did not live long enough to teach you that no amount of even the most adamantine armor can withstand even an ounce of swordsman's spirit. You have squandered your family's fortune on mere toys, and now it is all broken. You may have studied from a hundred masters, the best money can buy, best swordsmen, best martial artists, but you are still just a pupil," Konishi stood boldly before the torn, bruised, and tattered superhero who now had just a few angles of his star-shaped helmet and cut-up rags of his titanium fiber bodysuit that still hang over his lacerated body to him.
A defiant shout left the lungs of the beaten superhero. He swung his hand and flung a handful of marble bombs at the samurai. Konishi covered himself with his right hand, moving the living kenki construct of his best friend's likeness out in front of him. The kindred warrior's soul became a living shield that blocked the explosive bomb and the frost bomb alike, covering the kenki construct in man-sized icicles and a wall of flames that died out in a snap.
"I regret nothing! All the money I've spent, all the time I've devoted… Even if I'd have rescued just one person, it'd have all been worth it. Even if my family doesn't know what I do with my fortune, I know that if they knew, they'd be proud of the fact that all the money we've made is being used to benefit people, rescue those in need and help new inspired heroes get started on the right path," the superhero declared before rushing off to challenge the swordsman head-on. His agility was no longer as it was when he had the cover of smoke working for him or his armor protected him from harm. The wear of the battle was hanging on his body and dragging him down.
Even if he had his own bruises to contend against, Konishi elegantly stepped backward and blocked or deflected the incoming combinations of shots. The kenki construct standing from his right side formed a human shield larger than his entire body, helping him compensate for a massive drawback in martial arts skill. It served almost like a riot shield, blocking off any semblance of violence coming at him while holding the worn-out hero back and draining him of his strength and resolve further. Though Konishi had to admit that draining his opponent of all resolve to continue may have never happened. The injured hero fought through the pain and fatigue as if holding a little bar of iron clenched in between his teeth.
A pulsing shockwave of kenki sent the superhero rolling and stumbling back from the old swordsman. When the damaged hero looked up and began tracking his opponent again, the sight of Konishi having lifted his right hand with his sword held in it and the ethereal shape of his friend holding it with their left hand, comprising a combined two-man hold over the blade.
"Divine Punishment Style: One Thousand Buddha Commandments!" the swordsman and the artificially forged spirit of his best friend swung the coated katana together, creating ranged aerial blasts infused with kenki and colored see-through white. An innumerable number of blasts came crashing down and bombarding the exhausted superhero, beating him down with their combined indomitable might and numbers until the battered hero felt the cool and slightly itchy brush of grass against his back out of bounds.
"The samurai Konishi Gokojin eliminated the superhero Dusk-Man! This leaves the remaining number of competitors in the ring at 125, and it also makes Konishi one of the few warriors with multiple successful eliminations at this point! Will this make him the favorite to win or will it make him a target!? The superhero team, on the other hand, isn't doing too well, all the most famous superheroes that were known for their rescue work have been eliminated with the five remaining being better known for their work capturing or killing mercenaries, criminals, and fending off ninja! It appears that there have been no surprises from our rescue workers, as opposed to the pro-athletes who have pulled off some impossible eliminations!" the announcer summed up the tournament so far on a rare occasion when he had the time to do anything but comment on the countless hectic fights occurring faster than the audience could track them.
The sheer fact that this man could stay on top of the many fights occurring at the same time while relaying to the spectators information of events transpiring faster than their eyes could register showcased that the true MVP of this tournament may indeed have been the hard-working staffer relaying the news to the spectators from the sidelines.