2 - All In

“Alright everyone, have your passports ready, we’re entering the gate.” Sensei exclaimed to the small group of teens behind him. Each of them were holding onto their hastily assembled hand luggage, mostly filled with fighting equipment and spare underwear.

“This is it, huh...” Kouta sighed. Whilst there was worry in his eyes, the sight of the enormous plane outside filled him with a certain sense of ambition.

“Not yet, there’s a few days left.” Yuta said. “This is just the intro.”

“I always wanted to be in Naples.” Kouta continued. “I never thought it’d be for this, though.”

“You’re the one most excited about this.” Yuta chuckled. A brief pause later, he added with a slightly more serious tone. “Considering what you told me yesterday, it makes sense.”

“Everyone’s counting on me, including myself. I’m the one counting on me the most.” Kouta smiled. A small beeping sound welcomed him to get his ticket checked. With a sharp breath, he took a step forward.

“It’s cold...”

Kouta, with a somewhat lost expression, marched all the way to his seat. After barely managing to fit his hand luggage into the shelf above his seat, he made himself comfortable in his seat. He was soon joined by two of his teammates, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to even make small talk with them.

Hearing the flight attendant’s detailed explanation of the safety measures, and the captain’s warm welcome to the flight, Kouta looked out of the window. The slowly accelerating behemoth soon reached high speeds, dragging the passengers with it into the sky. The sight of the nighttime runway slowly fading away as only its lights became visible enchanted Kouta. He took a look at the night sky, but no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t see any stars...

“My stomach feels kinda funny.”

He stirred a bit in his seat, taking out a pair of earbuds from his pocket.

“Is this what stress feels like?”

“I only feel this right before the fight.”

“Hey, what’s the flight time again?” He asked his teammate next to him.

“Around 12 hours.” He replied.

“And that’s just the flight to Rome.”

“Sakuto gave me some movie recommendations, so I’ll just watch them. Or I’ll fall asleep...man, this is gonna mess up my sleep schedule too.”

“There’s the hour-long train ride too after this.”

He started dozing off without even realizing. The looping music in his ears made for great white noise to sleep to. He felt a little cold, but it was manageable enough. Subconsciously, he hoped the day of the fight never came.

...

“So? How is it?” Yuta asked, watching Kouta walk away from the train looking completely void of any life energy.

“My back still hurts...the seats messed me up. And I wanna sleep...” Kouta sighed.

“I thought you’d be more excited.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should be grateful for this.” Kouta smiled. He chuckled to himself a bit later, catching Yuta’s attention.

“Dude, you look like a kid in an amusement park.” Yuta laughed, patting him on the back.

“I still can’t believe that I’m here. I mean...” Kouta said. “It’s pretty hard to comprehend.”

“It’s just a you thing in that case.” Yuta responded. “I don’t care much, I would’ve been as excited if this was at home or any other country.”

“Kouta Touriki!” The sensei exclaimed. Kouta sharply turned around, before quickly realizing exactly where he messed up.

“Where the hell would you be if it wasn’t for me finding your passport on the train?!” Takechi angrily said, handing him the document with a sharp motion.

“Ah, s-sorry sensei...” Kouta quickly apologized. Yuta was trying his hardest to hold his laughter in. “Sleep deprivation must be doing its thing.”

“You two will be sharing a room in the hotel. The weigh-ins are tonight, so you better make sure you’re the right weight when we get there.”

“Thank you for the arrangement..” Yuta said. “As for the weight...uh...”

“What?” Takechi asked, already disappointed.

“I think I’m a little uhh...slightly above the intended number.”

“How much exactly? You’re fighting at 66 kilos max, so half a kilo or something like that won’t be too bad-”

“Sensei, I’m currently 70 kilos.”

“...”

“I uhh...think it could be more because I had the full meal on the plane.” Yuta said. “To be fair it was quite tasty, you know...for a plane meal at least...”

“You irresponsible brat!” Takechi yelled, striking Yuta in the gut strong enough to cause him to curl. Kouta was the one trying not to burst out laughing this time. “Get ready.”

“Huh?”

“Get ready!” Sensei doubled down. “You’ll be running a marathon across this whole city! I won’t accept you falling out of the tournament because you’re too fat to use your brain!”

“R-right!” Yuta answered, before quickly sprinting off. Kouta and sensei were left alone, walking in silence while the rest of the team was slightly ahead of them. At least, there was silence until Kouta spoke up.

“Sensei...”

“Hm?”

“Do you think...I’m strong?” Kouta asked, although a bit reluctantly.

“I’ll put it this way - there’s nothing that they can do, that you can’t.” Takechi replied. With a subtle smile on his face, he put his hand on Kouta’s shoulder. “You have no reason to worry about your strength.”

“I’ve been putting so much effort in... I shouldn’t come across any troubles, right?” Kouta asked, observing his slightly scarred knuckles.”Hard work gets rewarded.”

“You’re overthinking this.” Takechi said. “Listen. Your opponents aren’t monsters, they’re humans, just like you. They have a pair of arms and a pair of legs. You’ll just have to focus. You’re better than them, you’ve trained harder, and you’re stronger and smarter. Got it?”

“R-right...” Kouta said, before falling silent again.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Hm?” Takechi asked. “It feels like you want to say something else.”

“I uhh...I’m also missing weight. I’m 2 kilos over the limit-”

“You damn monkey!” Takechi yelled, giving Kouta the same treatment he gave to Yuta. “Off to running! Now!”

...

“Kouta, go to sleep, man.” Yuta said, stirring in his bed. He could still see the faint light from Kouta’s phone, and was slightly concerned for his teammate’s lack of care. After a long day of touring, weigh-ins and a concerning amount of street food, good rest was an absolute necessity.

“I don’t feel sleepy at all.” Kouta said.

“You know that fighting while sleep deprived is the worst way to fight, right?” Yuta said, tucking himself in his sheets even tighter. “Especially if you get a headache.”

“Yeah, well...I won’t get sleep deprived. Believe me, I’ve slept less and fought more and did just fine.”

“Whatever...” Yuta sighed. A pause later he spoke again. “What is it, stress?”

“...Kinda.”

“Just say fuck it and fight. Turn off your brain and use it only to throw hands.” Yuta said, closing his eyes. “I’m sleepy as hell. Good night.”

“Yeah...I’ll try. Night to you too.” Kouta said, turning his phone off. Despite the lack of distractions, his eyes were still wide open.

“Fighting with everything on the line.”

“I want to skip over the fight and just get the results.”

“I wonder how much more people will like me if I win. My friends would be proud of me, sensei would be proud, and my parents...they’ll finally shut up.”

He tumbled around in bed, slowly drifting to sleep with his eyes open.

...

[TOURNAMENT DAY]

“Ah...my legs are sore.” Yuta grunted, stretching to his heart’s content. The team was stationed together at their respective seats. So far, two of their fighters had participated - one winning their first fight, and another one losing it.

“Mine aren’t that sore.” Kouta said, standing up and tossing a pair of pads to Yuta. “Come on, let’s warm up a little.”

“Sure.”

They climbed up the stairs that stretched across the stands, and found themselves in a more empty area. There were other fighters practicing and warming up, and the sounds of the loud pads were storming that part of the stadium. In fact, some fighters were producing such loud bangs on purpose - to intimidate their future opponents.

“Come on, give me some kicks.” Yuta said, holding the pads. Kouta struck them with expert speed, but still...

“Your speed feels off.” Yuta commented, holding the pads out again. “Your technique isn’t as crisp as it usually is too. Are you sure you warmed up properly? It’s pretty cold here.”

“Yeah, more than sure.” Kouta said, kicking the pads again. “I guess it’ll go away during the fight.”

“It feels like my feet are stiff. I feel a bit dizzy too.”

“It’s hard to explain with just words.”

Kouta kept warming up, and helped Yuta practice his striking too. They did a few grappling exchanges as well, with Kouta focusing on practicing his defensive grappling. They both looked prepared, but while Yuta looked cold and confident, Kouta still seemed a bit troubled at heart. The anticipation of the fight was draining him more than the actual fight would.

A few hours later, as he was busy daydreaming in his seat...

“Kouta!” Yuta yelled out, rushing towards him. “Check this out!”

Kouta’s whole body froze. Initially, he assumed that it was his own fight soon. Yuta showed him his phone, on it a website decorated with various loud designs. It was a long list of names with a time schedule on its side.

“Look. It’s their digital tracker for the fights. My fight is the 5th as soon as the break ends.” Yuta said, pointing at his name on the paper. “Your fight is the second one, Kouta.”

“Oh, so...it’s in what, 10 minutes?” Kouta said. He tried to stand up but felt unable to do so without giving it special effort. His feet felt like his legs were made out of concrete.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s catch sensei somewhere and tell him. You’ll be in the first cage.” Yuta said, before quickly feeling a tap on his back.

“I heard you two’s conversation.” Takechi said. “Kouta, have only your shorts on, so go grab your protective gear. We can go now.”

“Yes, sensei.” Kouta said. He even had trouble reaching for his equipment, it felt like his arms had a response delay. The overall dizziness didn’t help him either.

“Kouta, it’s you now?” His teammates yelled from their seats a few rows further. “Good luck!”

“Thanks!” Kouta waved to them, before quickly following his sensei.

“Every step feels like I’m drowning.” He thought to himself, envisioning himself in a thick and gloomy ocean, surrounded by similar fish and the tremendous underwater pressure.

“Fuck...calm down, Kouta.”

The area itself was a large complex, designed for the finest showcases of martial arts in the world. Although mostly used for amateur championships or debut fights, it was still very well made. Since the four cages were all surrounded by the stands from all sides, the fighters would sometimes report dizziness or even headaches because of it. But it was just an aftereffect of stress.

“You know the rules, right?” Takechi asked.

“Yeah. Full contact, everything allowed.” Kouta said. His stomach still felt stiff.

“Looks like the other fight isn’t over yet. You’ll have to wait for a bit.”

“Got it.”

“Focus on your striking. Keep the takedown threat in mind, but don’t let it limit your striking. Use your low kicks to pick his leg apart and set up further combinations. If you’re on the ground, don’t panic, try getting back up. Use your knees if you’re stuck up against the cage, alright? Don’t forget your knees!”

“Got it.”

“Most importantly, keep your cardio in mind. Your opponent is mostly a wrestler, don’t let him drag you into the deep waters. And don’t expand all your energy on worthless combinations. Use your feints well and focus on decisive killshots. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Come on, give me a one-two.” Takechi said, holding his hands up. Kouta hesitantly threw a pair of light punches, he felt even ashamed of them. Had he thrown like that during training he would have gotten a good dozen push-ups to do.

“I feel so heavy right now.”

“I gotta fix my breathing quickly-”

“Come.” Takechi commanded, quickly guiding him as a round of calm cheers was heard in that side of the stadium. “You’re up now.”

Kouta slowly went out. The immense pressure of the crowd surrounding him, most of which were other fighters that were mostly focused on warming up or breaking down their fights, and the bright lights on the roof were causing him to visibly shake. Thankfully it wasn’t his first time competing, otherwise he would’ve passed out already.

Somehow getting himself together, he managed to properly pass the checkup and put his gloves on. He stared at his opponent, who was a slightly taller teen with dark curly hair and tanned skin.

“I feel so dizzy...”

“No. Not now, Kouta. Now is the moment you focus.”

He approached the center, abiding by the referee’s commands. During the quick rundown of the rules Kouta already knew, he was completely zoned out. The two fighters touched gloves, and both went in their respective corners.

“What’s this stiffness in my stomach...?”

“...”

“I’ll win.”

“I feel stone cold. I feel like my head’s everywhere at the same time and my eyesight is broken apart.”

“It’s just stress.”

Kouta approached his opponent. Both of them were slowly walking around, preparing for either side to strike first. Kouta threw a few low kicks, they did minor damage. His opponent rushed at him, attempting a takedown, but the attempt was stuffed. They went in and out of brief striking exchanges and kept moving around.

“I’ve fought for almost 10 years now. I went from an average newcomer to the strongest fighter in my weight division. I spent all my life obsessed with this.”

His opponent rushed him again, but instead of shooting for Kouta’s legs, he pushed him towards the cage’s wall. Kouta’s skills in the clinch were impressive, on paper he should’ve easily taken advantage and dealt solid damage with his knees and elbows. But the opponent’s impressive physical strength forced him to be more on the defensive in order to avoid the level change.

“This is my purpose. This is what keeps me living and running.”

Once the clinch was broken apart, they circled around each other a bit more, and closed the distance for a striking exchange...

“There simply isn’t a world...”

“...where I don’t deserve to win!!!”

...

The curious watchers following Kouta’s fights outside the arena had no idea what was going on. The event wasn’t being live streamed, and the schedule website was only accessible by the fighters themselves.

Maybe this was for the better.

None of the people that knew about his upcoming fight would instantly find out about its results. None of them would see “R1, LOST BY FINISH.” written in bright red letters next to his name.