Warning: Somewhat light putrid scene. I don't even know if I should put this but just a heads-up hobos.
Kyoto and Kai stood just outside the red and white house it was early morning and the arena had been refurbished. They felt like crows on a wall.
"So."
"How long are you gonna keep up this fighting thing?"
Kai looked up with raised eyebrows.
Kyoto scratched his chin oddly.
"I started it for some quick Ryo, but I'll probably just keep going until I have enough ryo to travel around the world."
Kai thought about something for a few moments before quietly letting out some high-status information that he had heard during his time as a human cooler. Although embarrassing it was quite an informative job.
"There'll be an announcement right after your fight. Whether you get to hear it or not depends on whether you win or lose. Just know that it'll be a huge opportunity."
"Or at least that's all I know."
Kyoto nodded sincerely. He was going to barter for more information but the same pesky voice drilled into their ears from the other side of the door.
"How can I help."
"Daim-."
"Yeah, yeah."
The two got in once again without a hitch.
Kyoto still had a few hours before his fight so he entered the crowd for free after the two had left the dark tunnel due to his fighter privileges.
Kyoto enjoyed watching some of the higher as well as lower-ranked fights. Futo was nowhere to be seen after his loss a few days ago. Thanks to his fighter privileges, once again Kyoto could enjoy watching the show from around the middle stands.
After a few minutes, silence had descended into the stands.
Kyoto looked around in confusion.
The #1 Ranked fighter Muerlo hadn't shown up.
Kyoto remembered that Muerlo had a huge streak. Would it really be ruined because he didn't show up to one fight?
Kyoto had heard rumors from mutters in the stands.
Apparently, Muerlo had to pick his opponents from a draw since nobody wanted to fight him within the top #10. That was why he was currently fighting the fighter ranked #23rd.
Instead of taking the free win, the rank #23 fighter forfeited immediately. Sweat ran down his veins and his legs were shaking and rattling.
Kyoto's eyebrows furrowed.
Why did someone just reject a win against the #1 fighter? Surely the pay would've been great.
Before he could even catch on, the arena was once again flooded by rumors.
Kyoto's ears perked up as they attempted to pick apart the truth from the gossip.
Kyoto adopted a frown as he noticed no one really knew what was going on.
No one but one.
Behind him, an old man spoke. He didn't speak particularly loud or strongly but his voice stuck to Kyoto's ears like glue.
"Smart lad."
"The last one who disgraced Muerlo's legacy got bent in half after the match."
Kyoto felt a tingle of realization.
If those words were true, then Muerlo truly wasn't one to be messed with. Of course, that went for ordinary people and fighters. Kyoto did not doubt in his mind that Muerlo would fall to even a weak fire-style jutsu of his. Kyoto struggled to truly get into the fighting atmosphere. He felt like a god in human clothes next to the fighters.
Sometimes the idea that he could destroy entire villages in one go haunted him like a gnawing ghoul. His right eye often tingled upon such thoughts. A thing that didn't go unmissed. Kyoto knew exactly what was tingling within his right eye.
Nevertheless, the mood had grown somber after Muerlo had won by simply not showing up.
Kyoto coughed loudly and uncontrollably. He had gotten a light cold lately and it had made him feel like a puppet to the world's strings.
"Where is Muerlo anyways?"
Kai sprinted as fast as he could. His lungs felt flat as his legs began to tire. His arm muscles had become overused and sore in a matter of minutes.
A huge gang of Muerlo's underlings had been looking out for him and scouring the arena.
After being seen by a few, Kai's only option was to run. All of his jutsu became futile when attacked by huge numbers. He could only do large-scale ice jutsus near large water bodies or heavy-mist-saturated areas.
The most he could do now was create small ice constructs or decrease the surrounding temperature.
Doing the latter would assist the first.
But none of that was possible as of now.
Kai's ears twitched as muffled shouts came from around him.
"We've..."
"LEFT..."
The sentences couldn't be entirely translated.
Kai felt an odd sense of silent entrapment immersing him.
And as he turned the corner, 8 bulky men waited for him.
Kai thought about unleashing a wind-style jutsu, but that changed when a thundering stomp crashed before him.
Boom.
Air blasted Kai's hair back as a giant towered over him.
He could only see two demonic whites due to the poor lighting of the corridor.
But he knew this figure.
"BOW TO THE KING."
It was Muerlo.
Kai cursed.
He was outnumbered, the second he even tried to release a jutsu he would be restrained.
"BOW..."
"TO..."
"YOUR..."
"KING."
The deafening booms continued throttling down Kai's ears.
Kai felt truly weak.
A sly and sticky feeling, weakness was. And Kai felt like he had been thrown into a vat of it.
No matter how badly he clawed with his hands to get out, more weakness would merely be poured in.
To Kai, who was a prideful person at heart, this feeling felt like his self-made misery potion.
"Hey is this kid really not bowing?"
"Wake-up time."
"Someone wants two broken arms."
"Just enjoy the show, lads."
The goons of Muerlo began talking cockily.
Muerlo himself was silently fuming.
He spoke like a stone gargoyle.
"DO YOU DARE DEFY THE KING?"
Kai looked up, a hint of a smirk in the shallow light present.
"Maybe."
Before Muerlo could react, Kai's hands which had been hiding in the dusk demesnes of the shadows rose up.
Kai spoke, adrenaline shooting through his voice.
"Yuki Style: Shard Cannon."
As a crystallized gleaming blue shard formed in the darkness, a vortex of wind began formatting behind it. Kai utilized his only two chakra natures to create such an attack.
Muerlo was too arrogant to even consider the threat of the small rotating ice shard before him.
Bang.
A silver-white line cut straight upwards.
A small slosh of blood spat onto the ground.
Muerlo's face instantly deformed into an ugly writhing mess. He had been humiliated in front of his goons.
The top right part of his head had been chipped off, the skin hung on like a dead man. The ice shard had shot straight through his head, poorly controlled by Kai but with monstrous power considering the situation.
Muerlo didn't wait a second before he smashed Kai into the ground.
"Gah."
Kai felt a huge pressure slamming into his back and the next thing he knew, he was on the cold stone surface that was the ground.
As he barely lifted his neck, the world felt far crueler. The kind of cruelty that he had been trying to avoid since long.
Right before him, were a pair of manky, creasy, oily, and putrid-smelling feet. They were bigger than Kai's enter head each. Overgrown goblin-like toenails protruded outwards. The skin on the feet was covered in warts and infections.
"Lick them."
A set of knives pressed lightly among Kai's back.
Kai felt his whole concept of pride shake.
Pride or death?
Kai's eyes reflected despite the absence of light.
"Cough. Cough."
Kai washed his mouth out several times with tap water. But the taste still felt as if he had just done the deed. Everything had seemed like a tedious task and joyous adventure, but now he had thoroughly lost.
He had given his all, and despite the tough situation, not only lost. But died. Inside his mouth at least.
His taste buds didn't scream but rather slumped. A greasy texture was still remnant on them. Kai tasted hair and almost vomited as he washed his mouth out once more.
Kai continued dipping his head under a dripping tap. But nothing could drive away the sickness circulating around his mind. The sickness that kept on playing the scene of before right in his eyes.
He wanted to let the world know what had happened.
But his pathetic sense of pride held him at gunpoint.
And so Kai held together a frail smile and moved on with his day to the best that he could.
He felt that he may have lost something as he left that abandoned sink, but he would never know.
Not for a while.
Kyoto looked around in uncertainty. After a small while, Muerlo came out from his tunnel accompanied by a squad of nervous goons.
Kyoto easily noticed dried blood dripping from the top right of his head. It looked like it had just been blasted off by some sort of kunai.
It definitely wasn't the work of a punch.
Soon mutters and whispers hissed and seethed in the arena. The unbreakable titan, Muerlo had been injured?
Such was the talk of the underworld town.
Muerlo nodded arrogantly after being told that he had won by forfeit. Even the referee was slowly backing away from Muerlo, probably afraid that he would get squashed by a trip-up from Muerlo.
Although Kyoto wasn't certain, he could notice a kind of... moisture that had settled on Muerlo's feet.
It had been lathered on tediously.
Had Muerlo really been tending to his feet instead of heading to his fight?
Kyoto scoffed.
"What an idiot."
Fortunately, nobody heard him in the now rowdy crowds.
Nobody important at least.
The old man raised his eyebrows.
"You'll regret that."
Only Kyoto could hear the man. Kyoto wasn't even aware if the man was talking to him.
The Old man seemed to be aware of the silent connection the two held.
"Muerlo's men are everywhere. His ego won't allow sly comments."
"You're probably next."
Kyoto looked back. Tired of receiving one-handed advice.
And there he found, an empty seat.