FALLEN KINGSA Baki x Lookism Crossover Fanfiction
CHAPTER 4: BREAKING POINT
TOKYO - HANMA ESTATE
The massage therapist's hands trembled as she worked on Yujiro Hanma's shoulders. Not from the effort—though his muscles were dense as stone—but from fear. Everyone in the estate knew that Lord Hanma's mood had been... volatile lately."Report," Yujiro said lazily, his eyes closed.Oliva stepped forward from the shadows, his massive frame somehow diminished in the presence of the Ogre. "The Seoul search was unsuccessful, Lord Hanma. The targets have gone to ground deeper than anticipated."Silence. The massage therapist's hands stopped moving entirely."However," Oliva continued carefully, "I did encounter some local fighters. Tested them. They were... adequate for Seoul street level."Yujiro's eyes opened. Red. Predatory. "Adequate?""They lasted sixty seconds in coordinated combat. Showed decent teamwork and survival instincts." Oliva kept his voice neutral. "Nothing that would interest you, my lord."Another silence. Then Yujiro laughed—a sound that made the massage therapist flinch."Oliva. Old friend. Do you think me a fool?"The air pressure in the room changed. The massage therapist quietly excused herself, fleeing before the storm hit."My son," Yujiro said softly, "has always been sentimental. Always believing in potential over power. And now he's vanished—along with five Seoul fighters who somehow escaped my initial sweep." He sat up, his Demon Back muscles rippling unconsciously. "You found him, didn't you?"Oliva met his gaze steadily. "Yes, Lord Hanma.""And you let him go.""Yes."Yujiro stared at him for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. "Good."Oliva blinked. "My lord?""A hunt is only interesting when the prey has teeth." Yujiro stood, stretching, his presence filling the entire room. "Baki thinks he can train Seoul street fighters to challenge my network? Let him try. It will make their eventual breaking all the more satisfying."He walked to the window, looking out over Tokyo. "Send a message to all division heads. In one month, we hold a demonstration tournament. Every affiliate, every conquered crew, every fighter under my banner will compete." His smile widened. "And we'll extend a special invitation to any... resistance fighters who think they're ready.""You're baiting them out," Oliva realized."I'm giving my son exactly what he wants—a stage to prove his training works." Yujiro's eyes gleamed. "And when his students are crushed publicly, when every crew sees that rebellion is futile, when Baki himself kneels before me again..." He turned back, his presence overwhelming. "That's when I'll have truly conquered everything."SEOUL - DAY 7 OF TRAININGGun Park's hands were bleeding. Again.He stood before a concrete pillar, his fingers twisted into claws, trying desperately to replicate what Baki had shown him seven days ago—the Hanma Grip. A technique that could shatter bones, tear through muscle, and grip with pressure that exceeded hydraulic presses."You're still using Seoul street fighting mechanics," Baki said from behind him, not even looking up from where he was reading. "Tensing your shoulders. Forcing the grip with arm strength. That's not how it works."Gun's jaw—now reset but still healing—clenched. "Then explain it again.""I have. Seventeen times." Baki finally looked up. "But you're not listening. You're trying to add the technique to your existing style. That won't work. You need to reconstruct your entire understanding of grip strength from the ground up."He stood, walking over. "Try again. But this time, stop thinking like Gun Park, Seoul's tactical genius. Start thinking like prey trying to escape a predator's jaws."Gun took a breath, centered himself, and tried again. His fingers dug into the concrete—The pillar cracked. Just slightly. Just a hairline fracture.But it cracked.Gun stared at his hands, disbelief crossing his face."Better," Baki said simply. "Do it nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine more times, and you might actually master it."Daniel Park stood in a pitch-black room, blindfolded, as Baki threw rocks at him from random angles.His small body's foresight awakening could sense them coming. His perfect body's UI could calculate optimal dodges. But using both simultaneously while blind?He'd been hit forty-seven times in the last hour."Your bodies are fighting each other," Baki's voice came from the darkness. "The small body predicts. The perfect body reacts. But there's a delay—a fraction of a second where information transfers between them. In that gap, you die."Another rock. Daniel's foresight screamed LEFT. His perfect body moved right. The rock hit his ribs."Stop treating them as separate entities," Baki continued. "They're not two bodies sharing one consciousness. They're one consciousness inhabiting two forms simultaneously. Once you understand that—truly understand it—the delay disappears."Daniel gritted his teeth. Forty-eight hits."How?" he gasped. "How do I make them one?""By accepting that you're not Daniel Park with a special body. You're Daniel Park who exists in two places at once." Baki's voice moved. "Your foresight doesn't predict for the small body—it predicts for YOU. Your UI doesn't optimize the perfect body's movements—it optimizes YOUR movements. Both. Simultaneously. Always."Another rock. This time, both bodies moved as one. Small Daniel sensed. Perfect Daniel dodged. No delay. No gap.The rock missed.Silence."Again," Baki said. And the rocks came faster.Goo Kim sat in a meditation pose—something he'd never done in his entire chaotic life—while Baki stood behind him with a wooden sword."Unpredictability," Baki said, "is only effective against opponents who rely on prediction. But what happens when you face someone who doesn't predict?"The sword swung. Goo dodged left—The sword had already changed trajectory, catching him across the shoulder."Pickle doesn't predict. He reacts to pure instinct, to the scent of fear, to the rhythm of heartbeats." Another swing. "Your chaos doesn't confuse him—it just makes you easier to read because you're constantly broadcasting your intentions through body language you don't even know you're showing."Goo tried to dodge unpredictably. The sword found him anyway."So what do I do?!" Goo finally snapped. "Stop being unpredictable?""No," Baki said. "You learn to be unpredictable even to yourself. To move without intention. To strike without deciding to strike. To make your chaos so pure that even your own instincts can't predict what you'll do next.""That's impossible.""For a human? Yes." Baki's eyes gleamed. "But you're not trying to become human, Goo. You're trying to become a monster."The sword came again. This time, Goo didn't think. Didn't plan. Didn't decide.His body moved.The sword missed.For the first time in seven days, it missed.Goo stared at his own hands, confused. "What did I just—""Don't think about it," Baki said sharply. "The moment you analyze it, you lose it. Pure instinct doesn't survive conscious thought."And the training continued.Johan stood before a wall covered in photographs—every fighter in Yujiro's network. Oliva. Doppo. Musashi. Pickle. Jack. Dozens more."You can copy techniques," Baki said. "But can you copy intent? Philosophy? The decades of experience that inform split-second decisions?"Johan's eyes scanned the photographs, memorizing every detail. "I'm trying.""Trying isn't enough." Baki pointed at Musashi's photo. "When he nearly killed you, what did you copy?""His stance. His sword technique. His—""Wrong." Baki's voice cut through. "You copied the external. But Musashi's real weapon isn't his blade. It's his acceptance of death. Four hundred years of cutting down opponents have taught him that life and death are the same thing. That's why he's so dangerous—he doesn't fear dying, so he can commit fully to every strike."He pointed at Doppo. "Doppo's real strength isn't his karate. It's fifty years of discipline. Of training when he didn't want to. Of perfecting techniques past the point of diminishing returns. His power comes from consistency."Then Oliva. "And Oliva? His strength isn't physical. It's political. He survived assassination attempts, prison wars, and international espionage by understanding that real power comes from controlling others' perceptions of you."Johan looked at all the photos. "So how do I copy that?""You don't," Baki said. "You can't copy experience. But you can understand it. Study them not as techniques to steal, but as philosophies to integrate. Then, when you face them again, you'll copy not just their movements—but their mindset."Johan nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the photographs. Seven days. He'd been studying for seven days straight without sleep.His eyes were beginning to hurt. But he didn't stop.Vasco's training was simplest and most brutal.He fought Baki. Every day. For hours.And lost. Every time."Again," Baki said, not even breathing hard.Vasco, covered in bruises, forced himself up. "Why won't you teach me techniques? Like the others?""Because," Baki said simply, "you don't need techniques. Your strength is already your technique. Your courage is your strategy. Your loyalty is your motivation." He dropped into a stance. "What you need to learn is how to weaponize pain."Vasco charged. Baki's counter broke two of his ribs."Pain," Baki continued as Vasco gasped on the ground, "is information. Every broken bone teaches your body how to protect itself better. Every torn muscle rebuilds stronger. Every nerve ending screaming teaches you where your limits are—so you can surpass them."He helped Vasco up. "Oliva. Pickle. They're strong because they've been broken more times than you can count. Their bodies have learned through accumulated trauma. I'm giving you a decade of their training in one month."Vasco's eyes cleared through the pain. "So break me?""Daily," Baki confirmed. "Until your body learns that breaking isn't the end. It's just the beginning."Vasco smiled through bloody teeth. "Good."They fought again.DAY 14 OF TRAININGGun's pillar training had graduated to metal beams. His Hanma Grip could now bend steel—not break it yet, but bend it. Progress.Daniel could now dodge fifty rocks simultaneously while blind, both bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The delay had vanished.Goo had stopped thinking entirely during combat. His movements had become something beyond chaos—a pure expression of unconscious violence.Johan had memorized seventeen different martial philosophies. His copying now included the intent behind techniques, not just the techniques themselves.Vasco had been broken and rebuilt forty-three times. His body was learning to operate even when it should be shutting down."They're improving faster than I expected," Baki admitted to himself one night, watching them train. "At this rate, in two more weeks, they might actually survive round one of—"A phone rang.Not his phone. A burner phone, hidden in the warehouse, that only one person knew about.Baki answered. "Jack?""Little brother," Jack Hanma's voice came through, rough and concerned. "You need to abort. Now. Father knows. He's planning something for next month—a tournament. It's a trap.""I know it's a trap," Baki said calmly."Then why—""Because it's also an opportunity." Baki looked at the five fighters, pushing themselves past human limitations. "They need real combat experience. A stage to prove themselves. And Father just gave us exactly that.""They'll die, Baki.""Maybe," Baki admitted. "But if they don't—if even one of them manages to surprise Father, to make him take them seriously—then we'll have proven that his system isn't absolute. That fighters can be grown, not just conquered."Jack was silent for a moment. "You're betting everything on potential.""Just like you did," Baki said quietly. "When you chose steroids and surgical enhancements over natural talent. When you decided that what you were born with wasn't enough. You bet on potential too."Another silence. Then: "...I can't help you openly. But I'll make sure the tournament bracket is structured to give your students the best possible survival odds.""That's all I ask."The line went dead.Baki looked up at the ceiling, where rain was starting to fall through cracks. In two weeks, they'd face Yujiro's network on a public stage. Win or lose, survive or die—the resistance would be revealed."Two weeks," he muttered. "God help us all."In the training area, Gun finally shattered his metal beam. Daniel dodged one hundred rocks. Goo struck Baki once in pure instinctive chaos. Johan's eyes gleamed with understanding. Vasco stood back up after being broken for the forty-fourth time.They were becoming something new.Something dangerous.Fallen kings, rising from their defeat.