"First time?" LaRusso suddenly asked him, clad in sweat.
"Huh?" He looked up.
"Using 'Chi'--you used it during that last attack out there, but you seem more confused by it than anything," Michael asked him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel.
He scratched his cheek bashfully, "...Well, it's just been awhile."
"Ah, I see. I take it you've forgotten the fundamentals, then?" Michael asked.
"Err, I sorta…never learned them."
"Huh? Really? You just used it naturally, then? Well, that's pretty impressive," Michael said, sitting beside him, "I can give you some quick pointers–nothing crazy, but it should help you in your next fight."
It seemed great to hear, but he was a bit confused once again by the man's kindness, especially in the high-stakes qualifiers where just about every other participant seemed to be embodying the concept of "every man for themself."
"...Sure, but can I ask something?" Touma looked at the older participant.
"Shoot."
"Why're you helping me? Isn't that bad for you? I mean, you're trying to win, too, aren't you?" He asked.
Michael looked forward bashfully with a small chuckle, "Well, I told you before, didn't I? I run a dojo. Teaching is just sort of in my blood now," he continued, "My own master believed in supplying the next generation with what was learned from the previous. He did it for me, so…I'm paying it forward. Besides, when I see a kid with you with this sort of potential? My sensei instincts just go nuts!"
"I see."
LaRusso laughed, scratching his hair, "Sorry if I sounded weird."
"No, I get it," he smiled.
"Anyway…'Chi'--well, it's something really kept under the wraps in the world of martial arts, and there's a good reason for it: it can be dangerous–for a lot of reasons," Michael LaRusso informed him, "The main thing that keeps it isolated to only the strongest of the strongest is that it only awakens either through levels of dedicated training on the level of insanity, or high-level combat. If you try to teach it to somebody unnaturally, they can die from the repercussions."
"Seriously?" He asked.
As he was chatting with LaRusso, he looked around to see if anybody else was eavesdropping, though it seemed most of the Celestial Fist qualifier participants were too busy warming up and stretching, and not paying much mind to them as they sat in the corner.
"Yeah," LaRusso said, "It's unfortunate, but I can't guide my students into learning how to awaken their Chi, but all I can do is steer them in the right direction. It's powerful–it's not an exaggeration to say that those who can harness their Chi exist in another realm than those that don't."
"I can see that…When that guy started using it, it felt like I was fighting somebody else entirely," he recalled.
"And that one was just using raw, unrefined Chi–I'm sure he isn't even aware of what that power is," LaRusso told him, "Think of it like he was cooking without even knowing what his ingredients were or how the dish tastes. All he was doing was stirring the pot, but there's a vast world of potential out there for those who can wield it."
"So you know how to wield it?"
"Hah, well…sorta, but I'm no savant, really. Everybody's Chi is unique to them; it has different aspects to it from person to person–it's quantity, quality, texture, feeling, and what it supplies to you," LaRusso explained, "You're listening, right?"
"Right, Sensei LaRusso," he said, almost playfully.
"Ha-ha! Good!" Michael smiled.
After being shown around the basics of the basics with a force native only to the elite of the elite, a pivotal call come–
It was time for Michael LaRusso himself to enter the fray; the announcer's call came, booming through the halls and waiting room alike.
[Coming all the way from the United States of America is one of the masters of the "Big Three Dojo" of the U.S.A: Michael LaRusso!]
Standing up, the rather plain-looking karateka smiled, looking down at the young man as he tightened his belt, "...Alright. Perhaps you're more of a visual learner? If so, watch me out there."
"I was already planning on it," Touma nodded.
There was a natural way to the way Michael carried himself, strolling down the hall while shaking his limbs to make sure they were warmed up and ready.
It was the natural aura not of an arrogant warrior forged of talent, but of a confident master chiseled by years of experience.
As soon as he stepped outside of the tunnel, the lights blared down, dancing down on the illustrious architecture of the arena.
"...Alright, let's see how this year fares for little, old me," Michael mumbled to himself with a smile.
[On the other hand, we've got a treat for you, folks! Fighting on home turf is the master of a family-exclusive martial art: Murata-Style Aikido! You all know him! He's particularly famous with the women! The womanizer, the "Beautiful Bastard"! That is: Biju Murata!]
Coming through from the opposing tunnel was the chosen opponent of LaRusso; an energetic, shirtless man with long, bright-blue hair that cascaded down his shoulders and a five-o'-clock shadow, to boot.
Was the "womanizer" part necessary? Biju thought.
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Biju called out, dancing his way to the arena.
On the man's march to the arena, passing by the crowd, he made sure to exclusively touch the hands of women spectators.
"'Beautiful Bastard Biju!'"
"Biju! I love you!"
"I have all of your merchandise!"
–It was all women who fawned over the bachelor martial artist, who seemed to love the attention as he blew kisses and even attempted to gather numbers from his fans.
[P-please hurry your way to the arena, Biju Murata!]
The announcer's call caused the shirtless man, clad in tight muscle, to finally move on as he looked up towards the blaring lights with his sapphire eyes.
"Alright, alright…Sorry, ladies, gotta go," Biju winked, "Cheer for me!"
–
"Could these two be…any different?" Ishikawa said with a raised eyebrow.
Chimon laughed, "I think you hit the nail on the head! Michael LaRusso is a "straight arrow", so to speak; a traditionalist among traditionalists. He's calm, collected, and respectable, but he doesn't try to stand out much," the former boxing champion scratched his chin, "...then you have Biju, a guy who can't seem to stop 'shining.'"
If his entrance wasn't flashy enough, the Beautiful Bastard entered the arena not through the ropes, but by flipping over them with a flawless sideflip.
[A showman or a martial artist?! Some may doubt Murata due to his flashy nature, but let me tell ya: this guy is the real deal! Last year, Biju Murata made it into the main Celestial Event multiple times! Among our participants here today, he is heavily favored to move on!]
–
Michael tightened his belt with a small smile, standing in his corner, "...Aw, jeez. I'm feeling like an underdog here. I didn't get this kind of talk when I entered."
Hopping in place at his end of the arena, Murata held a confident expression, "Michael LaRusso? It's an honor, man!"
"Yeah, well, same to you," Michael nodded, trying to be polite.
"No, really," Murata continued, "You're, like, a total legend in the martial arts world! You're all about teaching the next generation–keeping martial arts thriving from generation-to-generation! I respect that! Still…"
Huh? Michael thought, Why'd his aura suddenly shift?
Murata looked at him, "This place is for those aiming for the top. Not senseis who've given up on that dream."
"--" Michael didn't respond.
–
From the waiting room, Touma watched the screen as the two opponents, fighting near the end of the first day for the qualifiers prepared for their bout.
Come on, old man. Don't lose to a guy like this, Touma thought.
[Begin!!!]