Part 2 - Fire and Frostbite

“Focus.”

“All that matters now...”

“Is winning.”

1 - Hand Wraps

[MARCH, 2022; 2 YEARS BEFORE THE HARAJUKU SCHOOL INCIDENT]

Whereas most spend their evenings either busy working overtime, or indulging in whatever activity brings joy into their life, a certain place in southern Shinjuku was committed to art. A form of art that causes a sense of danger in many, and even disgust in a few. But those familiar with it can endlessly talk about how beautiful and deep it is.

It is the art...

“Hit them lower!” Kouta yelled, taking a few steps back. His powerful frame was illuminated by the gym’s white lighting. “If you want a swift knockout, you’re gonna have to get me in the liver!”

“What if I’m faking it?!” Sakuto exclaimed in excitement, quickly stepping closer. He threw two jabs and a high kick, which all got blocked. The thin black gloves and limited leg protection was the only thing stopping the fighters from outright killing one another.

...of combat.

Both Kouta and Sakuto shared the same point of view. Fighting is beautiful. Not in reference to the ugly skirmishes that occur in the street, of course, but to the masterful battle of might, technique and wits between two professionals. The exhilarating feeling of landing a kick, taking your opponent down, knocking them out or submitting them was what drove them towards excellence. Most importantly, the connection formed between two teammates when they spar and understand one another...they both thought it was profoundly beautiful.

The old gym had seen many years of battle. Many people sweated, shed blood or cried there, but only few of them remained in the sport. Those who did were the ones who Takechi-sensei, the team’s head and the main trainer, considered truly strong-willed. The gym’s white-painted walls that had small cracks in some places, the rows of red and black punching bags, and the red and blue tatami mats covering the room were engraved in the fighters’ minds. They were only saved from oxygen deprivation by a pair of old windows and a half-broken air conditioner.

Every other evening, the team would gather and train as hard as they could. The loud banging of the gloves and pads, screams of pain or excitement, and the sensei’s loud orders could be heard from the outside. It was often that unsuspecting passersby would peek into the gym’s windows, curious as to what exactly was going on. Upon seeing the brutality of sparring and the sparkle of life in the fighters’ eyes, they’d either be displeased and leave, or stick around long enough to be enchanted by the sports’ beauty.

For Kouta and Sakuto, this was more than just a passion. For Sakuto it was an escape from everything, a way to express himself. Even if he didn’t know it yet, fighting was a way for him to connect and understand. For Kouta, it was his life purpose, his ultimate gamble. If it worked out, he’d live the rest of his life content and happy, just like the many martial arts superstars he looked up to growing up.

“Sakuto!” Takechi-sensei yelled. “Put more momentum into it! And you, Kouta, use your size to your advantage!”

“To my advantage, huh?”

Sakuto threw a swift right kick, landing it perfectly onto Kouta’s stomach. Seeing Kouta flinch, he went for the same kick again - but fell for Kouta’s carefully laid out trap. Kouta parried and grabbed Sakuto’s leg, dragging him closer.

“Didn’t I tell you? Don’t let me catch you like this!” Kouta said with a smirk. He swept Sakuto down.

“Come down then!” Sakuto replied. On the ground, he grabbed a hold of Sakuto’s wrist and pulled him down. He knew that Kouta himself wasn’t too big on grappling. He lost balance and fell down. They scrambled on the ground, and through careful maneuvers and great flexibility, Sakuto captured Kouta in his guard.

“Kouta is primarily a striker. He doesn’t like being dragged into the deep waters.”

“He’s gonna try to force his way through my guard and try to mount me...”

“That’ll be his mistake!”

His prediction was by no means incorrect. As Kouta tried to pressure him more, he pushed his body forward a little too much and lowered his head. Sakuto, with a swift and unexpected motion, pulled Kouta’s arm closer to him and managed to capture Kouta in an almost perfect triangle choke.

“Got ya now!” Sakuto said, applying as much force as he could to finish the job. And just as he got close...

“Stop!” Takechi exclaimed in a raspy voice, blowing a whistle that pierced every fighter’s ears. “Time’s out. This was your last round. Thank your sparring partners for the fights and we’re done for today.”

“Damn it, I almost had it.” Sakuto said, standing up and helping Kouta get back up too.

“Talk about getting saved by the bell...” Kouta said. “Though, I’d probably just brute force you into letting go of me.”

“Brute forcing? While I remove the oxygen from your body? How’s that gonna happen?” Sakuto laughed. “It was very close to happening...”

“You wanna spar together tomorrow too?” Sakuto asked.

“Yeah, I might as well. Since my usual sparring partners aren’t coming lately... yeah. I’ll spar with you. Even if you’re a weight class or two below me, you’re technical as shit.”

“Glad to hear that, man.” Sakuto sighed. “I’m beat.”

“You wanna grab something to drink on the way to the station?” Kouta suggested. “Yuta, how about you?” He asked his peer who was changing next to him. He, like Kouta, was also a martial arts fanatic, and was his good friend.

“Sure thing.” Yuta replied, taking off his gloves. “Heh, just make sure to change first.”

“Don’t remind him of that time, for hell’s sake...” Sakuto chuckled. “Walking in the streets with sweat-drenched training clothes...”

“Hey, I was tired!” Kouta seemed annoyed. Nevertheless, he laughed.

The three of them left the gym after changing. All three were fully broken and tired, but at the same time, their spirits soared high above the clouds. They’d walk together until the train station, where each of them would take their preferred ride home. Kouta himself lived nearby, but he made sure to see his friends off every evening.

“Sensei is staying at the gym today, right?” Kouta asked the boys, reaching for his wallet.

“Holy shit, Kouta, we’re not infants...Sensei’s not gonna kill us if we grab a few cold drinks.” Yuta chuckled. “Worst case scenario is we do a few hundred push-ups...”

“Your problem, honestly.” Sakuto commented. “I can always just say it was your idea.”

“Sakuto, I’m gonna break your leg if you do that.” Kouta sighed. He tossed a pair of cans to them, and took a small bottle for himself.

“Lime tea?” Yuta asked before cracking his can open.

“It’s really good.” Kouta said. “I’d say my favorite.”

“Favorite? Really?” Sakuto asked. “You prefer lime over raspberry?”

“I thought you knew it.” Kouta replied. “I’d love a snack with this thing too.”

“Just a few more days and you’ll get to eat like a pig as much as you want to.” Yuta said. “Cutting weight is no joke. We have it easy, the top fighters basically kill and revive themselves.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll make weight.” Kouta said. The distant bells that played a gentle symphony indicated that a train was arriving. Yuta quickly diverted his attention to it and stepped closer to the train line.

“Ah, here’s mine.” Yuta said. “Take care, you two. I’ll skip the next training, gotta get some affairs straight before the flight. Kouta, we’ll meet at the airport in a few days.”

“Oh, take care then.” Kouta said. The train swiftly arrived, striking everyone present with a gust of wind. A few moments later, it was just Kouta and Sakuto left.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You’ll be at the gym next training, right?” Sakuto asked.

“Of course, I never skip training days.” Kouta sighed. “Today is...let’s see...oh...” Kouta said, sounding almost scared checking his phone. “Today I’ll find out if I got accepted into uni or not.”

“Oh wow...” Sakuto seemed amazed. “I’d say you shouldn’t worry about it. You surely made it in. Your grades weren’t top notch, but you brought up the fact that you’re basically a professional fighter in your personal statement.”

“I hope so.” Kouta sighed. “I wish I was as optimistic as you are. But...who knows? Maybe I made it. Maybe I’ll be some office rat instead of a fighter!” He chuckled, playfully punching Sakuto.

“You can be both.” Sakuto said. “Sensei does office work and trains us at the same time.”

“Well, that’s sensei. I’ll never be half the man that sensei is, honestly. He’s amazing.” Kouta said. “The amount of effort he puts into not only training us, but making sure we get opportunities as well, even if he has to sacrifice things...”

“Kouta, if you win, you’ll be eligible for a contract, right?” Sakuto asked.

“Something like that. If I win, I’ll be allowed to participate in more tournaments, which in return means more opportunities...and eventually, I’ll breeze through the amateur scene and get to the top of the game. But for now, this next tournament... this is where the big leagues start.” Kouta said with a slightly dreamy voice. A calm gust of wind blew their way, accompanied by another small dance of bells echoing throughout the station.

“Well, take care I guess.” Kouta said. Sakuto waved him goodbye and crammed himself into the crowded late train. Kouta took a moment to walk away. Holding onto his black sports bag, he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

“What others think is a passion... feels like a life purpose for me.”

“I’ll make it.”

“I’ll be the one-”

[BZZZZT]

“Huh? Gary, what’s up?” Kouta picked up the call.

“You tell me.”

“Shit man, the usual. Getting ready for the flight.”

“Props to you, I guess. Go on, slay the world, backyard champion.”

“Come on, we both know I’ll win.”

“Of course, of course. Got plans for tomorrow?”

“Nothing much.”

“See me in Shibuya then, we can grab some food. I’ll need to take good care of the future champion, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Usual time.” Kouta sighed. “I’ll bounce now.”

Kouta dropped the call, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He was lucky enough to live close to the gym, there was no need for him to spend money or time on train rides. Lost inside his mind, he slowly walked through the dark streets. The bright full moon decorated the sky with its pretty shine. Though, the stars were barely visible, slowly fading away.

“Naples, huh?”

“I’ve been to other cities for tournaments, but this is the highest profile one yet.”

“I wonder if we’ll get to eat some food there. Damn, I heard the food there is the best thing ever, especially when it's locally made. In one of those small family-owned restaurants...”

“What is it with me and food right now? I can’t eat this late. I hate to keep my weight in check. Or could I just do some more morning jogging tomorrow?”

“Ah...I rather save some space for spicy pasta...or some fresh Caprese salad, that’d be so good...all those cooking videos are getting to me now.”

...

He took a deep breath before knocking on the neat building’s door. After receiving no response, he realized that the door was open.

“Mom, dad, I’m back home.” He said in a tired voice. “I hope we have some leftover noodles, I’ll heat them up.”

“I’ll worry about losing weight later...”

“Get your ass into this room.” A low voice said. Kouta’s blood froze in his veins for a few seconds, as he recognized his father’s voice. His first thought was that he messed up with a small house chore, but after remembering the date, a much more daunting conclusion invaded his mind.

“Uh...what is it?” Kouta asked, entering the main room. His mother, a short and visibly angered woman, was sitting on the couch next to his father, who was a tall and well-built man. There were already a few open beers on the table next to a filled up ashtray.

“You tell me.” His father said, throwing a burnt out cigarette at him. Kouta slapped it away, still looking confused.

“Kouta, we checked the admissions hub today.” His mother slowly said. “Your application got denied.”

“Huh...what?!” Kouta asked, surprised. “W-what do you mean declined?”

“I’m honestly not surprised. Just gotta put up a front to make them think that I care.”

“What the fuck do you think we mean?” His father yelled. “You couldn’t make it in! Even after we told you to drop your stupid fucking gym for your academics!”

“Dad, don’t insult the gym. Insult me.” Kouta replied with a bitter voice.

“Oh? Else what?” His dad said, quickly standing up. He would’ve likely taken a step forward had it not been for Kouta’s mother holding him back.

“What are you gonna do?” The father continued, being too upset to even take a sip of beer. “You’re worthless now. You had one job as a student, and that was to study well and get into university-”

“Look, I’ll...I'll try admitting another application!” Kouta said. “It’s not all lost yet, alright? There’s still some time until the deadline.”

“Don’t you ever dare interrupt me.” His father threatened. “Do it one more time and I’ll genuinely kill you. I’m the one speaking right now, you understand?!”

“Right...sorry...”

“What is everyone gonna think of our family, huh? You already decided to take a gap year, you said it was for studying. Bullshit, you were either whoring around Shibuya or dwelling in a gym.” His father said, before taking a smoke. “Do you know what they call students who fail to get accepted? Even after taking an extra year to practice?”

“Dad, I’m sorry-”

“You’re a fucking failure that’s what you are. We invested so much time and money into you, only for you to throw it away.”

“Dad, please calm down-”

“Calm down?!” The father quickly got up, spilling a bottle of beer that was on the table. He yelled at the top of his lungs. “Calm down, huh? How can I be calm knowing that my own son is a fucking failure in life?! That’s all you are! A fucking failure...”

“My old man is easy to anger. Especially with issues like this, this isn’t the first time he’s lashing out like this.”

“I’m used to disabling my hearing in these situations. I simply turn my brain off until the situation is resolved.”

“Remember those times you actually cared about your future?! When you were saying you’d be a brilliant physicist or doctor...what happened to them!? Did you really leave them for...for a gym?”

“I’m used to turning my brain off.”

“Just how far do you think you can go by beating people up for pennies? Not even pennies, just...nothing! You fight and gain nothing! You and all the brats like you. Idiotic and worthless meatheads like you.”

“I’m used to it...”

“Everyone’s gonna call us a bunch of bums now. Kouta, congratulations. I never expected neither accomplishments nor a proper life from you. I’ve officially given up on you.”

“Fuck you, dad.”

“Huh? What did you say to me?!” Kouta’s father instantly started approaching him. Kouta stood unshaken. He dropped his bag on the floor, and took a step forward himself, with his fists clenched.

“Come on then!” Kouta yelled. “What are you gonna do, huh?”

The two entered a standoff.

“I’ve had enough! You threaten me way too much for someone who I can knock the fuck out.” Kouta continued. He slowly put his right foot further back, almost subconsciously taking a stance, ready to swing at any moment.

“Have you lost your mind? Are you raising your fists on your father?!” His mother screamed, almost terrified. Kouta looked at her with disappointment, as if she wasn’t supposed to say that.

“I’m done with this. Fuck university, and fuck all the intentions of getting me there.” Kouta said. “Dad, you don’t expect any accomplishments from me, right? How much will I surprise you if I win in Naples?”

His father remained silent, still shocked.

“I’ll go there, I’ll win, and then I’ll win in Paris, in Warsaw, I’ll win...everywhere! Fighting is my purpose, and I’ll live and die with it!” Kouta exclaimed, before his frantic breathing finally started calming down. “You only care about what other families think about us, right?”

“We don’t want you to be a jobless and miserable lowlife, like many other people.” Kouta’s mother said. “We’ve seen enough such people to not want you to live by the same fate. We care about you.”

“And this is how you express your care?” Kouta asked. “By berating me every time I make a mistake?”

“Failing university isn’t any ordinary mistake.” His father grunted, barely controlling his rapid breaths.

“I’ll prove it to you with my actions instead.” Kouta said, storming off into his room.

He shut the door, and as soon as the adrenaline left his body, he found himself staring at his shaking hands. He felt a little dizzy, so he quickly collapsed onto the bed and only now started comprehending what had just happened.

“Holy shit...”

“What did I do...should I apologize?”

“No...”

He laid idle. Despite using both gloves and hand wraps, there were still small scars on his knuckles.

“I always feel guilty when this stuff happens. I mean, they’re my parents after all...”

“Why even care about academics? My skills, my passion, they’re all somewhere else. I’m a meathead at heart, can’t stand the idea of filling out papers for the rest of my life.”

His eyes slowly fell shut as he fell aslumber. Cold drops of sweat engulfed his body in a strange feeling. His fists gripped the bed sheets tightly, as if he was holding onto his dreams...

“Just gotta fight.”