Third floor. Fourth floor. Fifth floor.

The elevator whirred loudly as it ascended higher and higher up the shaft.

Sixth floor. Seventh floor. Eighth floor.

Baki Hanma leaned up against the mirror wall, folding his arms and tapping his foot on the floor in impatience. He was wearing his gym outfit, yellow shorts and orange tank top hugging his musculature as his chest rose and fell in frustrated breath.

A band aid was clapped on his cheek, stained brown from dried blood the night prior.

'These idiot doctors better be pushin' me to my limits today.. There's no way I can get anywhere near him the way I am now - I couldn't even defeat those guys last night...' And that wasn't the only thing on his mind.

Twelfth floor. Thirteenth floor.

It's that Anna watched him lose like that. He stared up at the fluorescent lights blaring in the elevator ceiling. He'd been unable to stop thinking about it the entire night, barely got any sleep at all.. He felt his stomach turn as he continued to think about it.

'If Anna saw I was weak, would she even like me anymore? ..'

Fourteenth floor. Fifteenth floor.

'Well.. I'd just have to go back to training all alone. I'll probably become stronger without any girl distracting me anyway.. But I'd really like her to think I'm cool..'

Sixteenth floor. Seventeenth floor.

Baki stomped his feet loudly on the floor, massaging his face anxiously.

'Just stop thinking about it, Baki. It doesn't matter.'

Eighteenth floor. The elevator made a ding! and lurched softly until coming to a halt, and the doors slid open silently.

Baki stepped out from the elevator into a big hall at the atrium of the second-highest floor, a hall completely filled by rows and rows of the best gym equipment science could engineer. A huge mirror wall rose up around the elevator doors until reaching the white ceiling, and the wall on the far side of the gym was a giant window, twenty feet tall and sixty feet wide. Through this window could be afforded a sweeping view of the entirety of Tokyo city in all its grandeur from the heights of Akezawa Tower. Nobody else used this gym other than Baki. It was empty, save for a few doctors and coaches with clipboards, pens and such.

"Mr. Hanma, welcome back. Are you ready to run your regiment?" A slender man wielding a clipboard with an aggressive widow's peak and a white polo shirt asked as he approached the boy.

"Whatever.." Baki replied, scowling, "let's just get this over with."

He let the doctors hook him up with heartrate monitors and electrodes before the workout began.

The background was alive with the clinical beep, beep, beeping of the heartrate monitor; the chatter of doctors analyzing weights, heartrate, rep counts and anaerobic rates. The scheduled workout was overseen by the before mentioned coach, Coach Gero, the scientific minded lifter he was. Sweat marks began to appear under his armpits, despite him not actually doing any of the workout.

"Mr. Hanma, we'll continue your workout with the chest fly. I've agreed to upgrade you to the highest weight limit the machine has available to you. So," He looked down at his clever little clipboard he clasped, "you must do the programmed stretches and warmups before attempting it."

"Fine." Baki replied, stretching his shoulders, laterals, touching his hands flat to the floor and stretching his spine with torso twists, "let's just get this over with already.. I don't even feel any burn from this 'training'."

"No burn?" Whispered one of the doctors, "it's been an hour of hard workouts, and still nothing?"

"He's an athletic miracle.. This kid.."

"It's all genetic, gentlemen. Imagine how beautiful he will be with enough time on our combined programmes!"

Baki could hear all of them, in the background of his hazy focus on pulling the wires of the chest fly machine. With a grunt, he pulled all of the weight forwards, his chest muscles bunching as it bore the work with ease. He didn't care what they were saying, it just pissed him off to no end. He grit his teeth, still feeling no progress. No stronger than he was before. He growled, arms on fire as he began to rapidly pull the weight back and forth with all the speed and power he could muster.

SLAM! ... SLAM! ... SLAM!

Bats screeching.. Hundreds of them in that cave.. Flying from the dark, circling around their prey, their doom. His hair flew in the wind kicked up by black wings. Fists flew... Screeches echoed and grew silent as He brought his hammer down upon all of them, his eyes red and glinting with the sparkle of psychotic enjoyment.. Being dragged out on the cold stone in the night.. The full blue moon an eye fixed on the strongest one alive, trees across the valley bending to his will. Blood on his hands. The scarlet paw of some kind of beast at the edge of the mouth to the cave.. Another opponent slain..

SLAM!.. SLAM!.. SLAM..!

"Baki! Baki, that's enough. Enough!"

"Wha- Huh?" Baki spluttered, the wire slipping from his sweat covered fingers.

SLAM! The weight fell, the ground shuddered under the impact.

"Baki, your heartrate raised seventy eight percent higher than its usual BPM! What happened?" One of the doctors asked, the lab-coated men crowding him with their glasses and pens.

"It's none of your business.." Baki snapped, "Gero, what's the next workout!?"

"Oh-.. It's a sprint on the treadmill, Mr. Hanma. You seem to be doing well. By next week, we can certainly raise your workout to its next level of intensity. Your growth is almost exactly as I anticipated."

"I'm not growing fast enough.." Muttered Baki as he slunk from the chest fly machine and across the huge first class gym floor, towards the cardio machines; the doctors, coach and their monitoring machines closely in tow.

"What'dya say, Baki?"

"I said I'm not growing fast enough! I'm still too weak!"

"C'mon Baki, growth doesn't happen overnight, kid.. I've trained the likes of Schwarzenegger and The Rock - and what I see in you is growth much greater than any of the greats. By the end of my programmes, you'll no doubt be a contender for Mister Olympia.."

"Mister Olympia..? Isn't that a bodybuilding contest?"

"Here we are, Mr. Hanma. If you'll just step onto the treadmill nice and easy."

Baki walked onto the treadmill and set the level to twelve - three levels higher than average gym treadmills can even go. That's what you get from 'top of the line'.

"H-hey! I didn't say you could.. Ah whatever.. He's not listenin'.."

Baki began to run as fast as he could go. The treadmill's motors below him whirred loudly, an industrial-level power only found in the heights of the Akezawa tower. An invention created purely for Baki's own growth.

"What speed.." Whispered one of the doctors, "He's just now broken a sweat.."

"This growth is even higher than promised.."

"Stop!" Gero yelled after about five minutes of Baki running, grunting and drawing controlled breaths like a biological engine, his legs pumping with ridiculous power, "The programme is at its half-point! Time for half an hour's rest!"

Baki slammed his fist on the emergency stop button, sparks flying from the machine as the motors ground to a sudden and immediate halt, the tread stopping within the next breath.

Sweat beaded and ran down Baki's face, his skin slick and perspired as he drew sharp and deep breaths of slight exertion. He leapt from the treadmill, snatching a bottle of water from a doctor, which he drank within a single swig.

"Baki Hanma, I am very impressed with your work so far today.." Coach Gero gloated as he flipped through the clipboard in his hands, clicking his tongue as he looked over a graph, he flipped the board, showing it to Baki, "I believe you're already projected to hit this level before Christmastime!"

"Christmastime!? But that's almost half a year away!" Baki replied angrily, staring at the stupid graph, his strength a slow trend upwards along the axis of months, followed by a multitude of little scribbled X's in the following months, the summer through to the winter.

"For most people, this level of growth is totally impossible!"

"I need harder training." Baki said bluntly.

"Harder training?" Exclaimed Coach Gero, scratching the edge of his receding hairline, "no no, you mustn't push yourself. That could lead to overperformance injuries, and it will impede your growth!"

"I'm not any normal kid, Gero! I can handle it!" Baki bared his teeth and clenched his fists, "I have to handle it, otherwise it's useless!"

"Baki, please just calm down. If you follow our plans, you could attain immeasurable strength!"

"IMMEASURABLE STRENGTH!?" Baki roars, body shaking, "You call THIS immeasurable strength!?" He takes the clipboard from Gero's hands and with a single motion he tears it apart, along with the papers in it, with both hands. The kid, panting with immense and blinding rage, began his rampage across the gym floor, scattering scared doctors out of his way as he destroyed machines, tore mats and toppled racks with his bare hands. He took a dumbell and with a single gigantic throw, he slung it across the gym where it slammed into the thick glass window with a sickening CRASH. Huge cracks spiderwebbed across the glass as the weight embedded itself into the window.

"Calm down! Please just listen to me!" Gero begged as several of the doctors attempted to hold Baki. But the kid managed to shrug them all off as he sprinted towards the elevator.

His blood was pumping, teeth grinding against each other as he reached the other side of the gym. But then he saw himself in the mirror. Clenched fists, face full of rage. He looked into his own eyes. And Baki saw Him in himself.

"No.. No..." A lump formed in his throat, tears welled in his eyes. Before he knew it, he was driving his fist into the mirror over and over again. Glass shattered and flew in all directions around him as he punched and punched and punched..

And then he fell to his knees. Defeated.

"You call this immeasurable strength..? I couldn't even beat a hundred measly guys.. My father would've done it in seconds.." He half sobbed, his voice cracking with dying rage.

"Baki... Look kid, I'll put you up to the next level.. Okay? Just.. we'll give it a rest for today.."

Baki snapped his head around, red eyes glaring right at Coach Gero who was feverishly approaching him.

"No, we won't go to the next level. Because I quit. I'll do it on my own from now on, understand!?" He stood up, pressing the call button on the elevator. The doors slid open immediately, "and by the way, Gero.. Only one other guy gets to call me kid. I'll beat your teeth from your mouth next time you do, got it?"

And without another word or another glance back, young Hanma left the gym behind him, running into the elevator with tears trickling down his cheeks.

After bursting into the lobby, Baki raced out onto the streets. Lost, unsure what to do next, he decided to wander aimlessly until he could make sense of things. He ambled in a tired, directionless direction. Across streets, between back alleys and coasting a few residential blocks until he reached a small park area deeper in the city.

The park was sparse with people, the mid morning sun beaming down brightly as the few trees swayed gently in the breeze. A couple walking their pet dog walked by, but he ignored them even as they nodded their heads and smiled slightly in greeting. He heard them muttering about delinquency as they walked away.

Baki sighed forlornly as he found a park bench and slumped down on it. There he rested, staring up at the passing clouds as he felt the heat of his emotions begin to simmer down.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy breathing and footsteps crunching on the gravel pathway approached, and this caught Baki's attention as he sat up rapidly and glanced around himself. He noticed a strange man bouncing from foot to foot in front of the bench, jogging on the spot as he shadowboxed with the air, his fists were wrapped. He was wearing a baggy grey hoodie, the hood up and drawn which obscured most of his face other than his cold, gritty expression.

"Boxing?" Baki whispered as the man jogged away once again, thinking deeply to himself.

'What did that guy say on the radio a couple days ago..?' Baki wondered. He clenched his eyes shut, thinking about what he heard... "In other news, the boxing world of Tokyo is humming with anticipation for a long-awaited match between Adachi's own Yuhan Tiger, the current world Middleweight Champion against Mongolian-Russian Welterweight Champion Yuri Tchakovsky, who's challenging Tiger for his title next Tueeeesday Night in the ring at Kabukicho Martial Arts Center, in Shinjuku-ku!"

'That's right! Kabukicho Martial Arts Center.. I need to fight strong people to get stronger!' Baki leapt to his fight, 'I must fight Yuri Tchakovsky today!'

And with that, Baki sprinted off in the direction of the metro station, aiming to get a train immediately to Shinjuku.

...

..

.

"Anna! Will you fetch the salt please. This so called meal is ever so bland.."

"Yes, Kirara." Anna replied, pitifully dragging herself from her feet at the table and making to march across the kitchen to the seasoning cupboard.

"I'll get it." Hyousuke volunteered, before being shot down immediately.

"I didn't ask you, did I?"

The entire table was silent. Anna grabbed a bespoke Pink Himalayan salt grinder from the higher cupboard, turning to where Kirara was sat at the head of the table, her face turned away. Kirara Takeyama had shown up to family dinner on a Sunday afternoon unannounced as per usual, wearing a sharp, cutting tweed jacket with jagged shoulders, her jet black hair tied into a strict bun and her pale hands ending with purple-painted nails with which she used to snatch the salt shaker from Anna, waving her away as if she were little more than a servant.

When Anna returned to her seat next to Hyousuke, she refused to even look in her mother's direction. Instead, she caught Yoshinori's angered gaze from across the table, his eyes snapping between Kirara and Anna with all the pent up hate a fifteen year old could muster.

On this day, Anna found herself wearing an open purple cardigan with long sleeves, below which she wore a white button-up with a neckerchief, a black plaid skirt with sheer black tights and scholarly black shoes to go with them. Her hair, usually free, was tied back into a smart ponytail, only her fringe allowed to escape over her forehead.

"So.. ah.. How long are you in town.. For?" Chizuko, who was sat at the tail of the table, asked after a prodding glance from Sachiko, coughing awkwardly as his question was answered by a period of long silence from the Takeyama mother, who continued eating. After a minute the response came.

"Just today, Okamoto. It's no special occasion to me, of course. I'd rather be anywhere else.." She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a dainty little cloth, "but of course I must see if this one is making herself useful as a future patron of the Takeyama family." Anna suddenly felt the burning gaze of cold, academic obsession fall upon her, and there was very much nothing more interesting than the morsels of fish and vegetables on her plate.

"Can't even finish her meal properly. It's a shame really, isn't it Mrs. Okamoto?" She scoffed, expecting Sachiko to follow through on her joke also. The room was filled with silence. Even the bamboo swaying in the window outside seemed to be trying to hide from view of the window.

Yoshi grit his teeth and took a breath to speak out, but Anna gave him a cold glare and a swift jab with her shoe into his knee. He winced, puffed up his cheeks and nodded, his knuckles whitening.

"What's wrong with your weedy one?"

"His name is Yoshinori, Doctor Takeyama." Chizuko said flatly, "and it's likely he's just bit his cheek or burnt his tongue by accident."

"He's not my son, Okamoto."

Anna never saw Papa so stressed, tired and at the end of his ropes as he was every sunday when Kirara Takeyama came to visit.

Sometimes, Anna wondered if all her mother's abrasive little personality quirks were really what got her that doctorate in behavioural psychology, as if she herself were the actual point of study. An experiment like "how wickedly can a person possibly be able to act?"

Anna stared back out the window, watching the bamboo sway back and forth, free with the wind, letting the motion of the plant take over her world as the coldness of the real world melted away to her little daydreams she often found herself escaping to.

The thing she most of all wanted was for Kirara to leave her, to leave the whole of the family alone.. Longing for anything, anyone, to come and uproot the deeply rooted poison ivy of her mother's catering.

"If you ever sway from this set study routine, Takeyama, I'll personally escort you back to Ashiya City myself!" Daydream Kirara scolded, adjusting the rose on her lapel as her cold black eyes glared from behind her thick, concussion-causing glasses.

It's the worst-case scenario possible. The Okamoto family seemed to fade away as Anna's mother approached mercilessly.. That was when a certain ginger-haired boy burst into the dining room, his typical school uniform roughed up and his face scuffed and bruised from the events of the night.

"Hey, cut that out right now!" Daydream Baki Hanma declared, "I've trained to face stronger men than you! So I'm not scared at all!" The two began to circle each other, like sharks.

"What a horrible little boy.. I suppose disappointing your own family isn't enough for you?"

"Leave Anna alone, you old hag!" Baki yelled, "I won't let you hurt her anymore!"

Anna felt a strange sensation in her stomach. Was it nerves? Admiration? Anxiety? For a made up scenario that won't ever happen? She remembered Baki's dumb little smirk before he faced down the hundred men the night before.. She remembered being so awestruck at how fearless he was.. Yet how stupid the situation had turned out to be.. He was like a warrior. Her warrior..

'Come on, Anna.' She stole a glance at Kirara, 'She can probably read minds, as one of her witch's powers...'

"So, Takeyama." Kirara barked, snapping her from her daydream immediately. Anna jumped in her chair, as if her assumption about her mother's mind-reading powers actually came true somehow.

"Y-yes Mom?" Anna asked, meeting the leer of her mother's narrowed and uncaring black eyes, their pressure seemed magnified by the lenses of her glasses. Her cheekbones were high and protruding and her lips raised in a sneer.

"I'd prefer if you called me Kirara, young lady," Kirara snapped, "I've no time for such a relationship, after all," she cleared her throat, "well, as I was gesticulating, I didn't come all the way here to Tokyo to pretend the Okamoto family dinner is any kind of ilk which deserves recognition from a Takeyama, of course, but I did travel to check up on my daughter's progress at that mediocre High School she attends. So, cough up your report cards and extra curricular answer sheets as well as your notebooks."

Anna scrabbled under her chair for all the appropriate paperwork and passed it to Sachiko.

"Can you give this to... Kirara... Mama?"

Saciko quietly nodded, before further passing it to the warden at the head of the table. Kirara began leafing through the sheets and notebooks, summoning forth a little red pen to the clutches of her spindly, cold fingers with a depreciative scowl as she scoured each syllable and variable. She sniffed.

"Have you thought about our discussion on Thursday yet?" She asked, eyes barely flicking up to apprehend her daughter.

"Oh.. Right." Anna's heart started pounding as she prepared her explanation in terms her mother might understand or give her credit for, "well, Kirara, I did some research into what the role of tutorship is like, how difficult it is and what kind of merits are needed to truly pass on information to the next generation."

"Hm. You might finally surprise me," Kirara said, without a lick of surprise in her sandpaper drawl, not even deigning to look up from her marking of her daughter's work, "do continue."

Anna felt her heart glower with a tiny moment of victory.

"Well, since you want the Takeyama family to continue being well-known and esteemed, I thought teaching people and raising up students who are often seen as.. troubled.. per se, would help bring the idea of education and academia closer to the Takeyama name, and the Takeyama name closer to it."

The second Anna had said the word 'troubled', the entire Okamoto family immediately knew who she meant. Chizuko's eyes were wide, he grimaced in stress and made a slashing motion over his neck. Sachiko tugged the sleeve of her dress, anxiously glancing towards Kirara who was still buried in the notebooks barely a foot away from her.

Yoshinori and Hyousuke seemed cold and humourless, both of them.

"I see where you're going with this Anna, so you mean to say you can prove that most anyone can be taught to be a good academic or scholar, and that'll set you apart enough to claim the Shikoku Fundamental Scholarship?" Kirara asked disdainfully, looking up from the papers in front of her for the first time. Anna nodded in response, almost frantically.

"I already have a subject to try my.. Uh.. My experiment on." Anna said, wincing as she reduced someone she had such big feelings about as Baki, to nothing more than an experiment.

"Oh? And you'll tell me about this 'subject', yes?"

Yoshinori began shaking his head so much that his glasses began to rattle, and was shut down by a disgusted glance from Kirara.

"His name is Baki Hanma. He's thirteen years old and lives in Hachioji Ward just like us. He's in my class and-"

"Look, girl, I didn't ask for a name or a backstory. I told you to tell me about it, for heaven's sake, not give me a fact-file about his favourite colour and which arcade he goes to to waste time." Kirara snapped, slapping the books down on the table. Before Anna could speak again, Kirara continued into another verbal barrage, "and by the way, your work for the better half of the week is most unsatisfactory. Last week you had almost perfect scores across the board, particularly in your AP Biology exercise sheets and your little Algebraic booklet, wherever that might've gotten to! So therefore, I gave you a much higher margin of difficulty for your tasks this week. Do you mind explaining your utter failure to meet my standards? Perhaps you've been slacking with these two idiots," she glanced between Hyousuke and Yoshinori, "they're like Dumb and Dumber." She snorted in laughter. Jr. and Yoshi's faces turned beetroot.

"Please, Kirara, let me answer your first question."

"Well why didn't you answer it before?" She shot back.

"Baki Hanma is..." Anna continued, words jumbling pitifully from her mouth, "a failing student. He flunks everything except his gym classes, and he's known for falling asleep in class... He's also a known delinquent in Hachioji-cho..." Anna drew a shaky breath biting her bottom lip. Even a pin drop could be heard. She could barely even make eye contact with Kirara, who was no doubt making that horrible expression of I'm disappointed, shocked and enraged with you, I want you to know it and I want you to know I have many things to yell at you, but I will only do so after this doomed silence to make it all the sweeter for me.

"I..I can explain!" Blabbered Anna, holding her hands up in defence. Kirara's pen and dinner utensils clattered to the floor as she shot to her feet, bony finger shooting darts right into young Takeyama's heart.

"You better start explaining then, hadn't you?"

Anna's eyes began watering involuntarily as she struggled to defend herself.

"Well, when you said I'd need an academic miracle to be noticed, I heard Mr. Ahiru talking about Baki during my internship later that day... And he was talking about Baki's grades and he mentioned it'd need an academic miracle to pass this year... And I thought that this might be my chance! If this can be my miracle I can get the SFS scholarship... And-"

"It's a poor excuse, Takeyama!" Kirara yelled, her face wrinkled into one of pure anger and spite, loveless without a single ounce of maternal love or instinct, "so what you're telling me is you've dropped your studies so you can play boyfriend and girlfriend with this Hanma boy? Is that it?"

"No! No it's not! It's not!" Anna cried, gripping the edge of the tablecloth, eyes darting desperately to the fearful eyes of the Okamotos, internally pleading for any of them to stand up and say something.

"And now you're telling lies to me," Kirara spat, "if you spend a single SECOND more 'tutoring' this boy, you'll be coming back to the manor in Ashiya."

"But, but...!"

"No buts. Now, I want you to focus on these extra-curricular supplementary for the next week. If I see a single discrepancy, your cushy little life in Tokyo will be OVER.. Understand?"

Anna shut up and nodded frantically as Kirara angrily swept the old work up from the table and threw her fur coat over herself, alongside her raccoon-tail hat. She gestured to a massive velvet coloured suitcase leaning beside the refrigerator as she stormed out of the room. There was a cool breeze as she tore the front door open, followed by a floor shuddering SLAM!

Anna didn't notice the sound of her mother pulling away from the house in that big horrible import car, before she collapsed into the sleeve of her cardigan at the table, her body shaking from the violent sobs that came out from her, tears streaming uncontrollably from her eyes. The Okamotos surrounded her quietly.

"It's okay, Anna.." Chizuko said, rubbing her shoulder gently, "it's okay.. She's gone now."

Nothing could stop the aching she felt in her chest. She cried so hard that she began to feel light-headed..

...

..

.

It was mid afternoon. Baki jogged up to the street-corner, vision sweeping around the few high rise buildings around, looking for something.

He glanced directly across the street from him as a stream of traffic bustled by. A big grey building rose into the greyish skies, seven floors high and baring a big blue square-shaped emblem of a white arm wearing a bright red boxing glove. The light-up sign at the top of the building read as follows..

"Kabukicho Martial Arts Center.. This is the place!" Baki announced to himself, smiling boisterously as he blatantly jaywalked right across the street and right through the front doors to the place, becoming the recipient of quite vulgar slurs from drivers who were forced to halt their vehicles as this kid in gym uniform crossed their busy paths.

The front office was a quiet little room, with a few chairs, turnstiles to enter the main floor alongside a couple elevators to the left. A bored secretary lady filed her nails at a desk to the right. She wore a standard secretary's outfit, prim and proper, a grey woman's uniform with a hat askew on her neatly styled hair. Cheap perfume wafted from her. She seemed quite young, however, her nose was a little crooked and her shoulders looked altogether too bulky for her uniform.

"Is Yuri Tchakovsky here?" Baki asked bluntly, walking up to the lady. She looked him up and down once, disinterested.

"I suppose you're another wannabe, looking for an autograph from your idol?"

"Nah," Baki replied, cracking his knuckles, a little over-dramatically I might say, "I wanna fight him."

"...What."

"You heard me. He's gotta be here training for his big fight against Yuhan Tiger, so I wanna fight him!"

"You're not joking, are you?" She asked, her chestnut eyes searching his face for any cracks.

"That's stupid." Baki snapped, "Of course I'm not. I'm completely serious. So is he here, or not?"

"..Y.. Yeah.. He's in the main floor of the gym right now-"

"OK, cool." Baki replied shortly, leaping over the turnstile in one fluid motion, gone within the moment.

The receptionist clapped her nail file down on the desk.

"What a rude kid. I suppose I should watch the security camera footage so I can see him get his lights knocked out." She giggled to herself.

The main floor of the gym was lit up by big lights from the ceiling, white and buzzing with energy. The room was dominated by a single feature, a big fighting ring, elevated above the ground. Several big punching bags were lined up across towards the other side of the room, hanging from a lower part of the ceiling. Baki looked around seeing several spectators watching an ongoing fight between two men.

One of the men was dark-skinned and dark-haired, with a messy, floppy fringe and thin eyebrows. He was wearing a pair of white striped yellow shorts which went down to above the knee. It looked like some mook, whom his opponent was making short work of..

'That must be him.. Yuri Tchakovsky..' Baki wondered to himself, stepping forward as he watched Yuri lay attack after attack on the dark-skinned man.

Yuri's face was tough and hardened. His forehead was big, his brows heavy set with bushy eyebrows bordering his laser-focused dark brown eyes. His lips were pursed and his short, black hair was unstyled and messy, his widow's peak clearly visible as he darted around attacks with total finesse. He wore a pair of blue gym shorts, also with white stripes running down them. The dark skinned fighter delivered several high kicks, even managing to clash with Yuri, who brought his forearms up in defense of his torso, from which the kick slammed against.

"Nice one, Ginoy! Show 'im what your knees are made of!" Yelled a coach from the other side of the ring, out of Baki's sight.

Before this Ginoy one could celebrate his little victory, Yuri had already shrugged off the kick, darting forward with a straight sucker punch which slammed right into Ginoy's left cheek like a freight train. He flew backwards, crashing to the floor on his rear, spluttering and grunting in pain as Yuri stood watchfully over him.

The Mongolian-Russian fighter was poised for attack, whole body ready like a spring in a fixed position, his narrow eyes staring down at Ginoy with hawk-like observance, waiting for the moment his opponent might spring back up to his feet again.

And that he did. Ginoy leapt up with a renewed energy, launching flying kick after kick at Tchakovsky, his attacks forming arcs of motion across the ring as Yuri did nothing but feign and dodge each hit. When Ginoy left himself open with a strike to Yuri's liver, the blue boxer raced forwards again. And with another three strikes to his opponent's face and temple, he cast Ginoy against the ropes of the ring, where he slid to the floor, almost in defeat.

"Ginoy! Get up!" Yelled the balding coach, shaking the middle rope beside his fighter's lulling body.

"You come here to watch?" Someone asked Baki, "'cause you're a bit young."

Baki looked to his left, seeing an overweight looking man with a black bowl cut and a scar running from his right temple to the top of his pudgy cheek. The man was wearing a big blue polo shirt which covered his big stomach as well as black sweatpants. His arms were crossed over his chest. Baki ignored him, watching Ginoy slowly stand back up again.

"Muay Thai, huh? What's that all about?" Baki asked, more a rhetorical question to nobody than anything else.

"You know?" Blue shirt replied, before turning his gaze back to the fight, "that's cool... See that guy up there? He's Yuri Tchakovsky. The international Welterweight Champ."

"Yuri Tchakovsky..." Baki mumbled to himself.

"He might just be a welter, but his goal is to be the undisputed world champion. Only he's so strong, no one will spar with him. So he brought over the Muay Thai champ from Thailand to practice." Blue shirt continued, matter-of-factly.

"It doesn't look like much of a challenge out there." Baki pointed out, watching as Ginoy staggering to his feet and approaching Yuri once more, grabbing the Mongolian fighter by the head between both gloves, before continuing to land several knee strikes directly to the boxer's stomach. These blows, Yuri weathered with little more than a wince. After a few moments of this hurt, Yuri ended the fight with a powerful uppercut which slammed directly into Ginoy's jaw, throwing him out of the ring where he crashed to the floor, unconscious.

'An uppercut.. I didn't even see that coming. He's quick!' Baki wondered to himself, his grin slowly spreading across his face as he saw poor Ginoy get laid out by Yuri's lightning execution of the match.

"Ginoy! Wake up, Ginoy!" The balding coach yelled as he stomped towards his fighter, shaking the Muay Thai fighter by his shoulders, growling in frustration.

Yuri nodded with a small smile of satisfaction and turned away, marching across the ring, where he began to confer with the referee.

Baki decided that now was his time to shine. He raced across the hall, screeching to a halt at the punching bags where he began to let loose. The bag flew into the air with a single kick from Hanma, uncontrollable if not for the rope tying it to the ceiling. Everyone in the room now had their attention fixed on the boy.

"Now who is this young lad?" The grey haired referee said in a low voice, itching his moustache.

Baki rained a barrage of blows and strikes on the punching bag, his tremendous footwork allowing him to perfectly avoid its wild swinging as he ducked, feigned and side-stepped around it to deliver more echoing bare-knuckled strikes against the bag's tough surface as if it were no more than a hanging pillow.

"Hm.. It's not bad.." The referee added, him and Yuri now completely focused on this strange young boy who was now brutally assaulting the punching bag.

Yuri eyed him with narrow eyes, and great interest. But he said nothing. He just watched.

Then, with a sudden, huge uppercut which almost mirrored the exact same one Tchakovsky used to K.O Ginoy, Baki launched the punching bag into the air, where it slammed violently and flatly against the ceiling. Baki let it fall. And swing. And swing again. Backwards and forwards like a pendulum. Letting the silence and the squeaking of the tether speak for a long, long moment.

"Yuri Tchakovsky," Baki announced, with a dramatic bravado in his voice, "if I'm not mistaken?"

Yuri stood there, without responding, nor letting a flicker of emotion enter his face. Baki turned around, grinning cheekily as he wiped his nose with his thumb.

"Think you can go a few more rounds?"

Yuri's brows furrowed. He narrowed his eyes, searching the boy's face for any betrayal of joking or sarcasm. He could see it in those intense, wine-red eyes of his, those striking eyes which seemed to hold so much power inside them. This one was not joking at all. He was challenging Yuri's honour, by offering a warrior's duel...

Blue shirt gasps, eyes wide, as if he'd just seen some kind of heresy take place right in front of him. He ran up to Baki's side, arms gesturing out to the floor as he guffawed at the kid.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? This guy is the Welterweight Champi-"

"Champion, right.." Baki interrupted, unimpressed by a simple title, "That's exactly what I'm looking for," he stepped toward the ring, where Yuri stood waiting, "hey pal, I hear you're a little short on sparring partners-"

He tasted his own medicine of interruption when the referee began to clap loudly. Baki stopped, shooting a glare at the red shirted old geezer.

"That was some great work, kid," the ref declared, "but come back in five years when you've sprouted," he turned to Yuri, "now, we have one more programme to finish before the end of the day-"

But Baki had already leapt into the ring, one foot in front of the other, one fist in front of the other, initiating an intense staredown with Tchakovsky.

"Yuri! Stop staring! You're wasting time!" The referee snapped. But Yuri barely even listened. He could see it in this boy's eyes. The insatiable appetite for combat.

"Give that boy some gloves." Yuri declared, speaking for the first time in a voice deep, accented and smooth, "let's see what he's made of."

Baki grinned. But the ref was flabbergasted.

"Yuri!? What are you doing?" He glanced between the two, "he's just a kid! A one hit knockout! How will he help you? You are world champion!"

"Vladimir." Yuri replied, calmly, "above everything else, I am always Shagil. Never in rich history of my tribe, Shagil Tribe, has anyone turned down a fighting challenge. Not even if it meant fighting an entire nation. Not even if it meant fighting women and children. It is time for that kid to strap on gloves."

And strap on gloves, Baki did.

Blue shirt was the one to help him prepare to fight.

"So, what's his deal?" Baki asked.

"The Shagil Tribe was THE strongest tribe in the Mongol Empire, they say the mighty Ghengis Khan originated from that tribe. So are you sure you wanna get into this?"

"Huh?" Baki grimaced in sudden anxiety, watching as Yuri began shadow boxing with ferocity in the ring, his punches whipping the air. Baki felt his heartrate rise.

'Oh man, I might be in over my head here!'

He stared deeper at Yuri, watching the Mongolian fighter's expression. His focus, his determination.

'Baki, pull yourself together, this fighter may be strong.. But Yuri Tchakovsky isn't even a candle compared to the furnace that He is...' Baki shuddered and grit his teeth.

"I'm ready."

Baki was back in the ring, clashing his gloves together, feeling the bulky things bounce from each other.

'These can't hurt too much, right?' He thought to himself as he absent-mindedly watched Yuri and his referee... or coach... or whatever he was, Vladimir, talking with each other.

"Yuri, you know I can't sanction this!" Vladimir stressed, before receiving a solid jab to the stomach. Poor red-shirted old man Vladimir slid down to his knees beside the ring in pain, groaning to himself, "I think you hit my pancreas..."

Yuri chuckled as he turned to face Hanma.

"So, are you ready for this?"

"Just say the word, champ."

"What's your name, boy?"

"Baki! Baki Hanma, and don't call me boy!"

"Are you sure you're ready," Yuri asked a second time, his fists coming up to his face as his entire body coiled to action once again, "warrior Baki?"

Baki grinned, his arms wide open as he looked around with a big grin on his face.

"I never thought I'd actually fight a world champion... WOah!" He yelled, as Yuri had already crossed the ring and was now a mere foot away from him, towering above and poised to strike with ruthless power. And then he struck.

A direct jab right to the face, the power slamming right through Baki's head as if being struck by lightning. The power of the hit launched Baki across the ring, where his back slammed against one of the four corner posts, from which he yelled out as he landed face down on the floor. His entire body flared in pain and his face stung like hell.

'I WAS WRONG!'

Blue shirt attempted to enter the ring, stretching the rope for him to get inside.

"Yuri, he's going to die!"

"Don't move!" Yuri barked, pointing his fist directly at Blue shirt, who froze with a petrified expression that one can only get when he is threatened by his hero, "Nobody is allowed to enter this ring until Japanese warrior has admitted defeat. He asked for everything he's getting."

Baki, hearing this little speech, decided to drag himself back to his feet, his tank top now soaked in fresh patches of sweat.

He gasped a couple times, gritting his teeth determinedly as he wiped blood from his mouth.

Then he gave another plucky smirk.

"Finally found someone who can throw a punch.." He muttered.

Yuri's eyes narrowed as he watched the boy bring his gloves up into a defensive position once more.

"What are you waiting for? I didn't say I was finished!"

To this, Tchakovsky just shrugged lightly and resumed the brutal assault. He rained punch upon staggering punch against Baki's crumbling defense, feeling the boy's arms beginning to buckle and give out with each hook he dished out.

'You've managed well, but you're still far cry from beating me!' Yuri thought victoriously to himself as he broke through Baki's defense and with a single, massive uppercut to the jaw, managed to knock Baki out.

The boy began to fall forwards, his head a miasma of images, flashing memories like shards of broken glass. Glass which came together to form a mosaic, a dreadful mosaic of Yujiro Hanma.

Baki gasped as he woke up, slamming his left foot forward to stop himself from falling any further. Gasps came from all around the room as he staggered back to his feet. Yuri went for another strike, but Baki managed to dash rapidly out of the way, to the edge of the ring, where he caught his breath.

'It always comes back to him..' He shook his head, 'I hate it..'

He remembered someone else, someone else and the tutoring she had given him.

"Oh yeah, I can do something with... angles, I think. That's clever!" He muttered to himself, aware that Yuri was quickly approaching, his vision locked onto the stretchy ropes at the border of the ring. As soon as the idea came to form in his head, he was already executing it, leaping onto the rope and using its elasticity to catapult him into the air above Yuri.

He landed on top of Yuri's shoulders, locking his legs around his opponent's back as he began to launch a volley of devastating punches, all which hit Yuri Tchakovsky square in the head, slapping him back and forth with the power in each strike.

Satisfied that Yuri was discombobulated enough, Baki jumped backwards from the boxer, landing back in the ring, where he launched himself into a sprint right towards his opponent.

And that was where the match ended, for Baki at least. Since the next thing he remembered was waking up on the bleachers an hour later, with only Blue shirt and a few other boxers huddled around him. His ears rang and he felt sick.

"So, how're you feeling?" A voice asked from above. Baki's vision came to focus and he saw that familiar scarred face, furrowed in worry. It was Blue shirt.

"Wh- What happened...?" Baki groaned miserably.

"Take it easy, kid. That was a heavy blow you took to the head." Blue shirt said, the sarcasm gone from his voice.

"Oh.. Man.." Baki mumbled, clutching the back of his head as he rose to his feet, "so, uhh, where did Yuri go?"

"He's long gone.." Blue shirt answered, "he was worried about you after the fight, but he said he couldn't stay any-... Hey kid.. Why're you crying?"

Baki stared at the ground. He didn't even have the energy to muster to clench his fists in anger. He felt ashamed, disappointed. The tears slipped from his eyes so easily.

"What's wrong with you?" Blue shirt asked.

"You're not gonna start cryin' like a little girl, are you man?" Another boxer asked, this one wearing a generic zip-up grey hoodie.

"Let it go!" Blue shirt said reassuringly, placing his hands on Baki's shoulders, "You fought the world champ and didn't even get killed-"

Baki's fist already slammed into Blue shirt's left cheek throwing him to the ground.

"You don't know anything!" Baki roared, "I've never ever lost a fight, to ANYONE!"

And with that, he sprinted from the boxing gym floor, tears flying from his eyes as he burst past the receptionist girl and into the early evening of Tokyo city..

The receptionist girl watched as he slammed the door shut, her eyes furrowed in newfound concern for what she assumed to be a simple brat from a few hours earlier.

'Was he.. crying?' She thought to herself.

...

..

.

"Thank you for taking me on a Sunday, Kido.." Anna said, stepping out from his little beat up old car, the old detective following suit as the two began to amble down the all too familiar alley way towards Baki's house.

"No problem, kid," The detective replied gruffly, pulling out a cigarette, "I don't have much on today, and my dentist's appointment is tomorrow.."

The grey skies above seemed to be darkening as the clouds thickened direly, a little bright spot hovering over the western skyline, where the sun no doubt hid behind the clouds over distant Mount Fuji.

"I didn't want to ask Nayagi-san, since he's probably enjoying his Sunday with his family."

"Lucky guy.. whoever he is.." Kido murmured as they approached the front terrace before Baki's house, the silence of the area drilling hole in both of their heads, even as the strike of a match against Kido's lapel echoed when he lit up his cigarette, "besides, kid. I heard how worried you were. It sounded like you were pretty shaken up. Is everythin' okay?"

Anna's eyes fell meekly upon the wisened, warm understanding that lay in the gentle brown eyes of the detective. She shook her head.

"Today hasn't been the best of days, Kido-san.." She felt a lump rise to her stomach, "After last night-"

"I know, kid. I'm honestly a little worried about him too."

Anna gulped anxiously as she stepped through the low border walls towards Baki's worn old door.

"I'll go knock for him."

She stepped up onto the step, raising her knuckle up to the canvas and wood as she mentally prepared herself to announce herself. But before she could knock, the shoji slid slowly open. Baki was wearing part of his school uniform, a white tank top and black uniform pants, but without a jacket. He looked broken, shattered and forlorn. His eyes were tired and his hair was messier than usual.

"Hey, Anna.." He said, standing at the entrance to his house. Kido whistled blew out a cloud of smoke as he leaned against the stone wall outside.

"Baki.. I came to see if you're doing alright. After last night?"

Baki shook his head, blinking a couple times. The failure to beat a hundred men was just the first domino to fall out of the whole array of failures he had suffered this weekend.

"Y- Yeah," He clasped his hands together behind his head, wincing as he accidentally touched the swollen bruise sustained from fighting a world champion merely an hour ago, "I actually forgot all about that, for sure!"

"Really? So you're doing okay?"

"Yup, right as rain, Miss Takeyama.." He peered past her to the leaning detective, "Kido."

"Baki." the old man nodded, coughing as he took another puff of the cigarette.

"Pick up your cigarette butts, old man." Baki grumbled, lacking the energy to yell,

"You got it, kid." Kido replied, perching his smoke between his lips as he knelt down and began collecting the butts.

"W.. Would you like some tea, or something. Anna?"

"Yes. That would be nice. I'd like that." Anna replied, smiling sweetly at Baki. He quickly averted her gaze and made to invite her inside.. but then all of a sudden, something caught his attention.

The humming idle of a car engine pulling right up the alleyway towards them, the squeak of brakes being tightened as it parked scant meters away from the front of Baki's house. Anna span around. It was a classy looking sedan, a nineties Jaguar, complete with silver trimmings, tinted windows and a total air of power, wealth and authority.

Baki's brow set deeper, his expression turning sour.

"Anna, stay here. I'll deal with this."

"Who is that? In the car?" Anna asked, nosying over Baki's shoulders.

"My mom.." Baki replied, giving a little look back over his shoulders as he stepped out towards the drive.

Out from the driver's door stepped a sharply dressed Kuriyagawa, this time sporting a silver suit and a velvet purple tie, clipped to a black dress shirt. He nodded to Kido and tipped his blocky sunglasses at Anna before marching around the silent, ticking vehicle to the rear passenger door, which he opened for his passenger.

A woman stepped out. Not just any woman though. She had some kind of otherworldly beauty about her, the kind that draws all the attention in the room to her. Her long, luscious brown hair flowed in locks as it tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, parted at the forehead. Her eyes were a deep brown, her lips painted hot red with the lipstick that she wore, and above the left corner of her mouth, just on her cheek, was that same little beauty mark. This was very clearly Baki's mother. Alongside this, she wore a tight, form fitting scarlet dress, over which she wore a cropped black leather jacket. Her red high heels clicked on the grimy concrete as glanced quickly and discerningly about the dilapidated houses all around.

"I shall wait with the car, Madam Akezawa." Kuriyagawa declared reverently, bowing as he firmly shut the car door in Emi's wake.

"Very good, Hitoshi." She replied suavely as she began to saunter down the length of the car, ignoring Kido entirely as she approached Baki. The d

"Mom.." Baki whispered, "I can explain.."

Kido's eyebrows raised, his lit cigarette falling from his mouth and to the floor.

'THAT's his mom?'

"I can explain mom.. I wasn't getting stronger fast enough, so I left the gym behind. I lost okay, I lost I'll admit it, but I need to get stronge-"

Without a second warning, Emi Akezawa brushed her fringe from her face, took Baki and kissed him full on the lips. Deeply, for several long moments. Anna's jaw dropped as she watched this, her heart skipping a huge beat. Emi continued the kiss for a couple more seconds, before pulling away from her son, her laser sharp eyes filled with passion. A way a mother should never look at their child.

"You're more and more like your father every day, my love.." Emi said, her hand slipping down the side of Baki's frowning reddened face as she stepped past him. Her atmosphere changing completely as Anna quickly found herself face to face with Miss Akezawa, the tall woman towering over poor Takeyama who was still wearing her Sunday best, her shin length plaited skirt fluttering in a fell breeze.

"And you.. You must be this tutor.. Miss Takeyama, am I correct?" Emi asked, already knowing all the facts as she observed Anna with nothing other than malice.

"Y...Y..Yes Ma'am.." Anna replied sullenly, bowing feverishly out of instinct.

Emi scoffed quietly.

"He'll never love you." She says coldly, before turning away, stomping on Kido's smouldering half-smoked cigarette and disappearing inside the black sedan once more. Kuriyagawa glanced over at Anna with pursed lips and an anxious frown before he disappeared inside the car, pulling back down the alleyway and away into the growing evening.

The atmosphere that the woman left behind was palpable and thick. It weighed heavily upon everyone's hearts.

Anna's heart quailed in her chest as she watched the back of Baki's head helplessly. The boy turned around to face her. His expression was muted. Determinant, like he had decided something somewhere within himself. Anna saw this exact expression before, several times. One such time was before he faced those hundred men.

"Baki..?"

"Anna, come and have tea with me.. But then I think it's best if Kido takes you back home. I'm sorry."

"It's okay.. Let's just forget about that, Baki."

"That's the thing, Anna. I can't ever forget."

The three ambled into Baki's house, and the shoji was slammed shut behind them.

...

..

"Do you think he's made the necessary decision, Madam?" Kuriyagawa asked as he trundled slowly through the late evening traffic of downtown Tokyo, whilst the lights began to sparkle in the city and the stars began to twinkle between thick clouds passing in the sky above the city high rises.

"Of course," Emi smiled to herself, filled with a sense of satisfaction, "he's going to take the exact path his father did before him. I know exactly where he'll go and what he'll do there.."

"Surely you're not suggesting.."

"He'll go to Yasha Valley. It's inevitable," she flashed Kuriyagawa a sharp glance through the rearview mirror, "There, we'll see if he'll grow into an unstoppable force, cross the line of fear that separates weakness from strength; or fail and never get to fight another battle honourably again.."

"And when he returns?"

"My son only deserves to fight the strongest in Japan, Hitoshi. I trust you'll make the arrangements."

'Strongest fighters in Japan? Surely not him..'

"Are you referring to the head of the Hanayama Clan, Miss Akezawa?"

"That would be a fitting match for him. Baki will have to choose between life and death, when it comes to fighting a Yakuza like Hanayama.. He'll learn that he has to crush his enemies. He'll grow even stronger.."

Kuriyagawa gulped nervously, feeling a bead of sweat form on his forehead as he flicked Emi a glance through the rearview mirror. The woman was treating the total destruction of her son like.. Like a project.. And Kuriyagawa knew there wasn't much choice for him but to help her orchestrate such brutal things.

Everyone at the Akezawa group knew the name of the boy's father. And they all feared it too. Madam Akezawa knows this, uses it like a cudgel.

"I'll make a call. I'll make all negotiations personally." He says flatly.

"Very good, Hitoshi. Now relieve us from this horrible traffic, would you?"

"Of course, Madam."

TO BE CONTINUED.