[SPECIAL: A Boy Named Neoru...]

The 13 year-old boy trudged through the dark tunnel.

"AND IN THIS CORNER..." an individual shouted from a coned piece of paper colored black.

"AT 5'6, WEIGHING IN AT 63 KILOS, HAILING FROM GOD-KNOWS WHERE, THIS PLUCKY CHALLENGER WALTZED IN ONE DAY AND TOOK THE BREAKERBRAWL SCENE BY STORM! WITH AN IMPRESSIVE 14 WINS AND 0 LOSSES, ONE HAS TO WONDER WHETHER OR NOT THIS SEEMINGLY SCRAWNY SCRAPPER HAS STAYED ALIVE BY LADY LUCK'S HAND ALONE! IT'S THE WAYWARD DRAGON..."

"who the hell told ya to call me that, geez..." the boy grumbled with a light accent. Finally, he'd emerged from the holding bay and into the dim light of the dingy arena.

"...NEORU!"

The outer ring of attendees was quiet. Only silent stares of bloodlust and spite laid upon the young boy.

"Little shit's cost me a month's worth of betting greens now..." He heard one spectator growl from behind. "You won't get so lucky this time, punk. The Brickhouse is gonna rip you apart, I'm sure of-"

A defiant middle finger suddenly flew his way. He staggered, before going red with rage.

"KILL THAT SNOTTY BRAT, HISEFU!"

With a smug grin, he hopped up the cage's stairs and locked eyes with his taller, wider opponent.

Neoru whistled. "You're one big fella, eh?"

Hisefu maintained a resolute, dignified expression.

"Stone wall act, eh? No wonder they call ya Brickhouse. Y'know, kinda thought it was 'cus'a strength or whatever, but I'm startin'a think it's somethin'a do with those shitty people skills. What, too stupid to speak, Brickhead? All that weight on ya, but right now it don't look like there's much goin' on up-"

Hisefu stomped forward with a single foot as he took an imposing stance, planting himself to the ground and shutting up his challenger.

"Children... do not belong in such a place as this."

"Eh?" The boy spat. "Watch it, Shithouse, thinkin' like that will net ya a dirt bed in the middle'a nowhere!"

A lanky guy posing as a referee threw down his hand. "BEGIN!"

Ending on that, he charged forward and readied a punch. And by the skin of his teeth, he sidestepped one of the fastest punches he'd ever seen. In sheer awe as time seemed to stop, he snapped out of it as soon as possible, cocked back, and slung a kick to Hisefu's chin. He'd hoped that blow would knock him out then and there, as the larger martial artist's head snapped back.

A tinge of red spurt from Hisefu's broken nose, as he slowly reset his posture.

"Such a kick... No, your success was no feat of luck."

"FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK, HOW'D HE DODGE THAT!?"

Neoru leapt back. "What the hell is this guy?" He was given no spans of time to further ponder it, as Hisefu's fist suddenly hovered over Neoru.

"NO-" He cross-arm guarded against the blow at the last second. His arms screamed out in pain, as did he, and his entire body vibrated from the sheer unrelenting force of the blow. His back slammed into the cage, nearly breaking the chain links keeping out the muttering crowd.

"That kid just took a punch from The Brickhouse..." one commented.

" 'Took?' Just how braindead are you!?" The one Neoru had flipped off earlier laughed. "Look at the little bastard, he's clingin' onto life by a thread! It's already over, this is just where the fun bit begins!"

Mouth drizzling blood, Neoru's legs couldn't move. No, the issue was that they WERE moving; quivering, from pain and fear. His eyes mirrored this.

"The guy's a monster... He's gotta be..." he thought in panic, supported by his miraculously-unbroken and yet still-howling arms.

"Damn it! So this is it!?"

Hisefu didn't move in. Despite the crowd's ever-rising bloodlust, reminiscent of an old-age gladiatorial arena's stands, he did not move.

"... now what?" Neoru weakly asked.

"Children..."

As his posture tightened, an expression of unbridled sorrow washed over his face.

"Do not belong in such a place as this..."

That face.

Pity. Absolute pity.

Neoru's eyes darkened. His legs found themselves calming, and the pain subsided as he slowly found his footing.

"Monster, my ass..." he muttered. "I'm your damn opponent."

After a coughing fit, he swallowed, his teeth grit and burning violet eyes resolute.

The man's expression hardened. "Tell me, young man. Why is it, that you fight so viciously?"

"'Cus I just love beatin' assholes like you half-to-death while riskin' my own ass. Why do you think, dipshit?" Neoru presented his fist. "Right now, this is how I eat."

"... I have a child around your age, young fighter. Gentle as a lamb, and would never dream of harming another creature."

"Are you fuckin' serious right now? Someone as strong as you, fallin' back on a sob story? Hopin' I'll drop out, huh, bastard?" Neoru demanded, struggling his balance.

"Yes. I fight for a group west of here, where she resides. With what is earned in this battle, I should be able to provide for them all... and then some."

"... So you're saying..."

"You're still a boy, remarkable in strength and skill, yet still a boy. You can-"

"SAVE IT, OLD MAN." Neoru hunched over. "If you wanna win, you're gonna have to kick my ass until I can't get up. Plain and simple."

He bared his teeth. "Besides, I can't stand groups."

"... Then so... be it."

Neoru charged at the elder martial artist, full speed. With a lightning-fast attack forward, Hisefu struck first.

The boy expected this. And that maybe, by some miracle, he could negate some damage and retain enough strength to strike at an exposed area with everything he had.

What he didn't expect, was how slow this punch seemed.

"...!"

The world slowed, his blood pumped, and strength surged throughout his body. But he inquired no further. Neoru, in that moment, accepted the extraordinary second wind and, as the fist flew beside his ear, leapt up with all his might and squeezed the older fighter's neck in-between the shoulder with his legs. The boy's eyes went berserk as he clung onto and pulled Hisefu's arm for dear life, too focused to notice the man's tightened nukite. The seasoned martial artist, on the sparse amount of breath he had left, launched it toward Neoru's abdomen with enough force to shoot right through a tank's armored plating.

Yet he stopped. Only millimeters away from vitals.

A few seconds later, he lost consciousness. He fell to his knees and lurched over. Neoru dropped to the floor, taking heavy breaths as he tried to take in what'd transpired, while the skin-and-bone guy in a checkered shit counted down from 10 outside the cage. His body was wracked with an indescribable burning sensation, something worse than the pain he felt from the prior blow he'd sustained. But something else ate away at him.

"That guy... how the hell did I beat someone like that?"

He then laid eyes on Hisefu's still-tightened spear hand. His heart sank.

"Hey... he could've... at that range..."

And the realization smacked him. Why that punch seemed so slow. Why he wasn't currently a kebab.

"AND WITH NOTHING SHORT OF PRODIGIOUS SPEED AND TECHNIQUE..!"

"You shitty old bastard..."

"THE WINNER OF THIS BATTLE IS..!"

"You coulda killed me. With no sweat. But..."

"NEORU!"

"You let me win."

He stopped by a dingy office to collect his "earnings." It was 5 canned goods. None particularly large, and 2 were condiments.

"What's with the long face, hotshot?" His employer asked. "You just sent the Brickhouse packing. Knowing the wasteful sack of shit that thorn-in-my-ass worked under, that's in more ways than one!" He chuckled at his own joke. "We're goin' to the top, at this rate."

"The hell does that mean?" Neoru tensed. "What's happening to Hisefu?"

"Was that his name? Well, you said it yourself, right? Dirt bed in the middle of nowhere."

"BULLSHIT! HE'S GOT PEO- HE WAS TOO STRONG TO JUST KILL LIKE THAT!"

"Y'can say that again. That impulsiveness is gonna cost Gomu in the long run. It'll take years to find another dog who fights like that. Also, what's got your panties in a knot, kid? That's good news for you. No rematches, no chance to blow what you have going right now... you're king of the hill as it stands."

"... No. I'm done."

His employer raised a brow. "You mean you quit?"

Neoru shrugged, faking a grin. "Told you I wasn't gonna do this for long, didn't I? Planned on hittin' the road after my 15th, anyway."

The shoddily-dressed ringleader sighed. "Shame. Well, good luck to you." As he noticed Neoru's shaking fists while the boy exited the room, his eyes gleamed a slight red from the reflected dusk sun.

Neoru hadn't made it a dozen meters out the door before 3 armed men blocked his way.

"For fuck's..." he growled. "Look, assholes, no one's in the mood for this crap right now."

One of them grinned maniacally. "I wouldn't be so sure, boy. Everything I had rode on that last match! But I don't just NEED to kill you, you arrogant brat, I WANT to see you die!"

Neoru made a demeaning scowl before turning to the other two. "What about you two bozos? You with this whiny-ass bitch, or were ya sent after me?"

Another goon steadied a shiv in his quivering hand. "Can't say. L-look, just drop the food and never show your face around here again."

Neoru's eyes gleamed.

"No."

He drew his sword.

"Now fuck off. Right now. Or die."

The maniac cackled, before running toward him in an enraged fit.

[BGM: Nujabes – One Million Way of Drum]

"YOU ARROGANT FUCKING BRAT, YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S GOING TO DIE!"

Neoru sidestepped his downward slash, ducking below the next before slashing his arm off and kicking him with enough force to rip the muscle of his neck.

The other two looked on in horror as he turned to them with widened, berserk eyes.

They braced, before screaming in sad attempts at war cries and charging in together. The boy kicked up dirt at the last minute, blinding one of them before throwing the other's arm after their failed grab, causing a stumble before Neoru jumped atop and plunged his sword into him before he could recover.

"Can't see..." the last one muttered, sticking out his hand before hearing footsteps approaching him, far too light to be any of his comrades'.

"NO... STAY BACK!"

They kept inching closer.

"KEEP AWAY!"

He suddenly fell to the ground, legs having been swept from under him.

"Dumbass..." he grumbled. As the last assailant rolled and screeched in a panicked frenzy before passing out, Neoru sheathed his steel and moved forward.

"OK... now which way is west?"

Yo! OP Here!

So, uh, you're probably wondering why this one was so short. Or filler-y.

Basically, I wanted to make this a pre-story sort of thing, but decided that it wouldn't segway that well into the main chapter, if that makes sense. Still, I liked it so much that I made it its own little special mini-chapter. I might do this for more characters, help expand on them, but not TOO frequently. This may very-well be the only one. This chapter also serves to provide a bit of context to Neoru's background, world, skill, and... mannerisms? IDK bro, I just like it.

Anyway, next ACTUAL chapter will focus on Neoru fighting and meeting (yes, in THAT order) someone even newer to Conton. Key Words: Alley, Sambo.

I'm also gonna revise some past chapters. Fix a few things, make things flow a bit better, GRAMMAR MISTAKES, the ushe. Also, did you know that Cantonese is OLDER than Mandarin? 'Cus I SURE AS HELL DIDN'T! I'm an idiot, we established this. But yeah, just letting you know that I'm aware of that, but it's kinda too late to change some aspects like "that character's" name (i like it too much leamme alOOONE) but Mandarin sayings will be rectified. Maybe.

One more thing: I'm making the Oroji influence Latin-American in general. South-American, Central American, just all'em. I don't wanna limit myself to one culture, 'cus Latin Americans in general are pretty cool. Guess that means the Portuguese Neoru's bro spoke might stay, after all? I'll think about it as I go along.

Yeah. That's about it. See ya.

ALSO MADE THE TWO WEEK MARK BABYYYYY-