Chapter 291: The Next Performance
Jaku Kaioh lay flat on his back, his body twitching as he stared at nothing with
glazed, white eyes. His face was a mask of crimson, blood painting the sand
around him in a grotesque blooming pattern.
Ren Shiroki used the momentum of the impact to spring back to his feet. He
performed a mid-air rotation and landed in a bladed stance, his fists clenched
as he hovered over the fallen master.
"MISSION COMPLETE!"
The roar from Ren's throat caused the entire plaza to hold its collective breath
for a heartbeat.
The young Kure announcer raised her hand high, screaming into the mic: "THE
MATCH IS DECIDED!"
"THE WINNER—REN SHIROKI!!"
WHOOSH!
Ren hoisted his right arm high. His face, smeared with nosebleed and dirt, was
split by a brilliant, white-toothed grin. He scanned the crowd, acknowledging
the roar.
"I won!"
The wave of cheers that followed was staggering, far exceeding the volume of a
standard Kengan match. It rivaled the atmosphere of his legendary comeback
against Dr. Kureha Shinogi at the Tokyo Dome.
Fusui, Shibukawa, Sonoda, Erio, Haruo, Kurachi... the police, the wrestlers, the
Kure assassins... they were all on their feet, applauding the technical violence
they had just witnessed.
Ren stood in a daze of pure euphoria.
Suddenly, the ink-wash lines in his vision swirled. The massive, scarred
silhouette of the [Red Cyclone] exploded from the ink, delivering a thunderous
slap to Ren's back.
"Wha—?!" Ren stumbled forward from the force of the spectral hit.
[You're still too stiff, kid!] Zangief laughed, his voice a booming bass in
Ren's mind. [This is a Wrestling Ring! You don't just smile at the crowd like a
tourist! You show them the POWER!]
The phantom began to flex, and Ren found himself compelled to follow. He
abandoned his guard and began a rhythmic display of his physique. From a
double-bicep spread to a front-lat spread, he finally settled into a standard
"Crab Pose," showcasing the hyper-defined, scar-decorated muscles of his torso.
CLAP!
Ren slammed his fists together, facing the section where Fusui was sitting. He
snorted a cloud of hot steam from his nostrils.
"The festival warm-ups are the best!"
"MAGNIFICENT!" "HELL OF A FIGHT, REN!"
Amidst the chaos of cheers, the announcer raised her mic again. "The [Soul
Combatant] has held the hill! We await the next challenger!"
Ren lowered his fists and looked down at Jaku Kaioh. He let out a soft sigh of
respect.
"You're a tough one, Jaku-san."
"You didn't flinch against my best moves. Even when you knew you were
outclassed, you gave everything. That was a 'cowardly' yet beautiful defeat."
"Meeting you in this ring... it was a blast!"
Ren reached down and hauled Jaku to his feet, holding the master's arm high to
share the spotlight. The crowd roared for the fallen Kaioh as well.
Ringside.
A hulking man with thick dreadlocks and a combat tattoo over his left eye stood
up from the spectator seats.
Jun Sekibayashi, the [Hell's Angel].
He walked past his mentor, Kugo Kurachi, a wide, jagged grin on his face.
"Sorry, Senior. I'm going to be a bit selfish today."
Kurachi blinked. "Sekibayashi?"
ZIP!
The 196cm, 141kg giant vaulted over the barricade and marched onto the sand. He
walked straight up to Ren and Jaku, seizing both their wrists and hoisting them
even higher than before.
"—?!"
Ren looked surprised. Jaku was still semi-conscious, his head lolling.
The Kure announcer was the first to realize who the intruder was. "WAIT! THAT
MAN... IT'S THE SJPW CHAMPION! THE [HELL'S ANGEL], JUN SEKIBAYASHI!!"
Her professional instincts hit the red-line.
"I'm going to say what everyone is thinking—!"
"The unshakeable Ace of Pro-Wrestling, a legend of both the Ring and the Kengan
matches, has entered the octagon! He is acknowledging both warriors!"
"In other words... even the Hell's Angel himself considers that last match to be
a Fantastic display of the art!!"
"Hah? What's that brat up to now?" Kurachi squinted, a grin spreading across his
face.
He turned his head to see a bald, stern-faced middle-aged man in a suit
approaching. It was Sekibayashi's official Kengan employer—Gen Shikano, CEO of
Gandai.
One was Sekibayashi's mentor in the "Surface World"; the other was his boss in
the "Underworld." They knew each other but rarely spoke.
"My apologies, Kurachi-san," Gen Shikano said with a weary smile. "Neither I nor
Jun could hold it back any longer."
Kurachi understood instantly. He had fought in "Inter-Style Tournaments"
himself; he knew the technical itch of a hungry junior. He nodded. "I know the
feeling. Ever since the Kengan Annihilation Street Brawl was announced, Jun has
been doubling his training volume. He's been dying to showcase his Super
Fantastic Pro-Wrestling on an underground stage again."
"Mm," Gen Shikano paused, looking relieved. "I was a fighter once too. I
understand his pride. He wants to prove that Pro-Wrestling is the strongest art.
No one can stop him now."
"As for me—" Gen pursed his lips. "I simply want to see just how high the man
named Jun Sekibayashi can climb."
"I see." Kurachi looked back at the ring. "So... is Jun here for a Street Match?
Or a Sparring Drill? Against Ren-kun?"
Gen Shikano shrugged. "Jun said an 'Unscripted Ending' is always the most
entertaining."
Kurachi burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Typical Jun!"
In the Ring.
Sekibayashi stood between the two warriors, holding their arms up as the cheers
finally began to die down.
Jaku Kaioh slowly blinked back to awareness. He managed to find his footing, his
recovery speed impressing even Ren. Sekibayashi, a master of the wrestling arts,
saw the reason immediately.
"Not bad, old man," Sekibayashi whispered. "Even as you took that Powerbomb, you
used your lats to buffer the impact. If you hadn't used that Ukemi, you'd be
horizontal for a week."
Jaku offered a pained, bloody smirk. "Thanks to Ren-kun... not going for the
kill..."
Sekibayashi released Jaku's hand.
But strangely, he didn't release Ren's wrist. Instead, his grip tightened, a
searing, biological heat radiating from his massive palm.
Sekibayashi bared his teeth in a demonic snarl. "Ren Shiroki. You think you're
just going to walk away? You think you can escape... ME?!"
"..."
Ren froze, his pupils contracting. But as he felt the intense pressure and the
heat of the giant's grip, his own lips pulled back. "Nice. That's perfect!"
Sekibayashi's expression faltered for a micro-second. He leaned in, whispering
out of the corner of his mouth: "Hey. Act angry. This is where you get pissed
off."
"Ah—? Oh! Right!"
Ren snapped back to reality. He began to struggle violently, trying to yank his
arm free while glaring at the giant. "IT HURTS, DAMMIT! LET GO!!"
The sudden "Conflict" made the audience's eyes bulge. Sekibayashi looked
ecstatic, his forearm muscles bulging as he hoisted Ren higher.
ZIP!
The announcer gasped. "Sekibayashi has suddenly ambushed Ren Shiroki! Is this a
personal grudge?!"
"GYA-HA!"
Sekibayashi yanked Ren's wrist upward, forcing his own face inches from the
youth's. He exhaled a cloud of hot, humid breath.
"Ren! You had the balls to trash my training facility while I was away? You
think you can beat up my juniors and just go home?!"
"I'm here to collect the debt! Don't you dare run!"
Sekibayashi seized Ren's wrist with his left hand, hoisting him onto his toes.
He pulled his right fist back and fired a lightning-fast strike directly into
Ren's forehead.
BANG!
The announcer shouted: "A CLASSIC WRESTLING MOVE—THE IRON KNUCKLE!!"
Ren was released at the moment of impact. He was launched backward, hitting the
sand and rolling several paces, his head spinning.
"I'M NOT DONE!"
Sekibayashi roared. He marched forward, delivering a series of heavy, rhythmic
low-kicks to Ren's shins and thighs.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The announcer gripped her mic. "LOW KICKS! RELENTLESS ATTACK! Sekibayashi is
looking to cripple the Soul Combatant before he can even stand!"
Ren lay on the sand, his body trembling as he coughed up a blood clot. He curled
into a defensive ball, absorbing the hits.
The crowd broke into a frantic chatter. They didn't know whether to cheer or
call for an intervention. Was this a pro-wrestling "Work," or was the Hell's
Angel genuinely out for blood? Both men were guests of the Kure, after all...
The confusion in the stands meant the "Heat" was working.
Sekibayashi finished the kicks and looked around the plaza. He let out a long,
satisfied exhale. "The effect is perfect."
Ren lay in the sand, his face covered in blood, looking up at the towering
wrestler.
"Yeah..."
Ren's lips curled into a smirk through the gore. "That should do it, right?
Seki-aniki... are we starting now?"
To Ren's surprise, Sekibayashi suddenly raised his right foot. Every vein in his
massive thigh throbbed as he drove his heel downward with terrifying force.
WHOOSH!
Sensing the shift from "Performance" to "Lethal," Ren performed a desperate
backward roll, springing up into a half-kneeling posture.
BOOM!!!
Sekibayashi's heel slammed into the sand where Ren's chest had been, creating a
visible crater. A wall of dust erupted from the impact.
Ren swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow. "That last one felt a
bit... real, Seki-aniki."
"Don't you dare look down on an active Pro-Wrestler!"
Sekibayashi ground his foot into the sand, leaving a deep, tire-tread-like mark
in the soil. The visual was staggering.
"Starting now? Don't be ridiculous! Do you look down on me that much?!"
The Hell's Angel stuck his tongue out, his fingers flexed into claws. "I don't
eat leftovers, kid! I want you at 100%! Go get fed, go get a nap, and when
you're ready to trade souls—THEN you step onto my stage!!"
(End of Chapter)
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