Ashan stood shirtless by the hotel window, towel draped over his neck, chugging a water bottle while sweat still clung to his brow. He had ballooned from his former wiry frame to a dense 150 lbs — still lean, still agile, but now unmistakably more powerful. His shoulders were broader, his legs thicker, his posture sturdier. Even his jawline looked sharper.
Now, they lounged in the hotel room, both sprawled in their typical spots, Jerry snoring lightly on the bed, and Ashan scrolling through sumo highlight clips on the floor futon, earbuds in, jaw twitching with intensity. He was obsessed.
Then Jerry's phone buzzed.
He blinked awake, groaning, and reached for it lazily. A few seconds passed before he jolted upright.
"...Yo. It's Adam."
Ashan sat up immediately.
"Yeah?" Jerry said into the phone. "...Wait, they want me?"
A pause. Jerry's expression tightened. "Now? Alright. Yeah, I'll bring the kid."
Ashan raised an eyebrow. "Bring me? Who wants you?"
Jerry ended the call and threw on a clean shirt. "Kengan Association"
Ashan froze. "So soon?"
Jerry grabbed his wallet and room key. "You're coming."
---
A black car picked them up outside the hotel. The driver didn't speak a word. Jerry explained on the way.
"The Kengan Association. It's a secret conglomerate of Japan's biggest corporations. When they have disputes, they don't go to court. They hire fighters. One-on-one matches. Winner takes all."
Ashan's mouth slowly opened, he felt amused as Adam had previously informed him on the plane to Japan. "That's... insane."
"That's Kengan. Adam's one of the top fighters. Hell, he made a mess of me before you met me."
Ashan frowned. "Why are you being called, then?"
Jerry snorted. "'Cause someone vouched for me. And the tournament's starting."
"The tournament?"
Jerry looked out the window. "Kengan Annihilation Tournament. Legendary event. Fighters from all across the world. Elite of the elite. They haven't held one in years. But now it's back. And Adam and I? We're in it."
Ashan stared. "So why am I coming?"
Jerry cracked a smile. "They didn't ask for you. But I'm not leaving you behind. You need to see what kind of world you've stepped into."
---
They arrived at a skyscraper, a towering corporate fortress cloaked in secrecy.
A tall woman in a sharp suit led them to a dimly lit boardroom. Inside were men in black suits, dark shades, and serious expressions. In the center sat a man with a scar across his face—he spoke first.
"We've reviewed your records. Jerry Tyson, formerly unranked, now recognized under Adam's recommendation. You will be representing one of our proxy companies."
Another man chimed in. "You are to report to the docks in one month's time. From there, the ship will take you to the venue."
A projection on the wall flickered to life, the luxury battleship "The SS Kengan," a floating arena that would house the deadliest tournament known to man.
Adam stepped forward from the shadows, hands in his pockets, eyes calm.
"I think this is your shot, Jerry. Don't screw it up."
He glanced at Ashan.
"You too. You're not fighting. But you better keep up. You're breathing rarefied air now."
---
On the ride back, Ashan slumped in the seat, dazed.
"I'm just… supposed to watch you guys fight killers?"
Jerry chuckled, arms behind his head. "You'll be more than a spectator. You've got heart, kid. You just need time."
Ashan looked at his hands.
"…One month."
"Exactly," Jerry said. "One month until we board. Let's see what you can become before then."
---