Haruto stood in front of Kikuchi, who was deeply focused on counting a stack of bills. The warehouse had emptied out for the night, and Yamada had left hours ago.
Erika slumped drunkenly beside her brother Arataki, and babbled incoherently, clinging to him. Haruto, on the other hand, was savoring the moment of his hard-earned success.
He straightened his posture, hands clasped behind his back, confidence radiating from his eyes after a long, grueling night of fights.
'Maybe it is luck? Or maybe I am that strong?'
Whatever it was, winning was like a drug for him, it was so addictive.
'Ah yeah, probably because I spar with Enji almost daily.'
Kikuchi flicked his wrist, tossing two thick stacks of money onto the table in front of Haruto.
"Here's your cut for tonight," he said casually.
Nakamura, seated nearby, exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke before chiming in.
"Because of you, the new challenger, we pulled in more cash than usual."
"Normally, rookies barely make it through their first round, so it's rare to see a fresh pup survive this far into the Bulldog league."
Haruto bent over, gathering the money from the table. He thumbed through it—less than 750,000 JPY, but still a considerable sum for one night.
A smirk crept across his face. 'Not bad, I will buy something nice for Haruka and Chiyo.'
"You should make this a nightly event, boss," he said jokingly.
Kikuchi chuckled darkly. "Tell that to the police. We're already skating on thin ice, paying them off just to keep this thing running."
"Some cops are still too clean or full of pride. One wrong move and they'll shut us down."
Haruto nodded, he didn't actually care about the managerial things or the police as long as he could get money and fight against Enji.
He didn't want to get too deep into all this gang thing anyway. He just wants to get revenge on Daiki and steal all his women. If he has any.
'Someone like him… Can he even feel love?'
He slipped the cash into his hoodie pocket. "So, does that mean I can fight Enji now?"
The room fell silent. Even Arataki, always quick with a joke, stopped talking. Nakamura blew a slow puff of smoke, his eyes narrowing.
Then, after a beat, Arataki burst out laughing. "You've got balls, Haruto, I'll give you that! But taking on that gorilla when you're already beat up?" He shook his head, still cracking up.
"You need to learn to love yourself a bit more—especially that face of yours. Don't you have a date lined up or something?"
Haruto just gave him a stern look, even when Arataki said was right. His 'sugar mommy' maybe would call them anytime soon.
"Save your strength for Friday," Kikuchi said, leaning back on the sofa, crossing his legs. "The Bulldog League isn't child's play."
Haruto's brows furrowed in frustration. "I don't have time to wait. I've got a sparring match with Daiki on Saturday."
Nakamura sighed, taking another drag of his cigarette. "You're in too much of a rush, Haruto. You could always get Kikuchi to cancel the sparring match."
"I'm not backing down," Haruto said, his voice firm and unwavering.
Kikuchi and Nakamura exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Kikuchi relented.
"Fine. You can fight Enji. But you won't get any more money since the warehouse is already empty."
Haruto's face lit up. "Thanks, boss!"
Without wasting a second, he grabbed his hoodie and rushed out of the room, eager for his next battle.
As the door swung shut behind him, Kikuchi shook his head, lighting another cigarette.
"Kids these days. Too eager for glory—they don't realize how close they are to getting themselves killed."
Nakamura chuckled softly. "Let them burn bright. The darkness always comes sooner or later."
***
Unlike the Pup Championship, the Bulldog League offered a more direct path to victory—no need to fight a string of opponents.
A fighter could simply point to the picture of their chosen target, hung on the warehouse wall, and challenge them. If they won, their own face would replace the loser's.
Tonight, Haruto had chosen Enji. Now, they stood in the dimly lit ring, facing each other, their eyes locked with intense determination.
There was no referee this time, no audience cheering from the sidelines. This fight was unofficial—a raw, private showdown between two men.
Enji, ever the provocateur, sneered at Haruto, his mocking tone breaking the silence.
"Huh, thought you'd be running home by now. Your mom must be losing her mind, wondering where her little boy is."
Haruto's smirk was cool, unbothered. "I'm not going home until I win big."
Enji let out a booming laugh, cracking his knuckles as if Haruto's confidence was a joke.
"Alright then, bring it on. Let's see if you've got what it takes, then."
Without hesitation, Enji lunged forward, his movements like a predator seizing the opportunity.
Haruto barely had time to react as Enji's fist slammed into his ribs—right where the bruises from the earlier fight still ached.
Pain shot through Haruto's body, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness.
Enji smirked, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction. "Thought you were tough? You might be my friend, but in this ring, we are no more than an enemy," he taunted, delivering a swift kick to Haruto's thigh, targeting the spot that had already taken a brutal hit earlier.
The sharp pain threatened to buckle Haruto's leg, but he steadied himself, refusing to give Enji the satisfaction of seeing him falter.
"You're slow," Enji sneered, taking advantage of Haruto's fatigue, landing another brutal punch to his already bloodied knuckles.
Haruto winced, feeling the sharp sting as his hands throbbed with each impact.
Haruto's vision blurred for a moment as Enji drove a knee into his abdomen. He doubled over, gasping for air.
Every move, every attack from Enji was aimed precisely at his weak points, exploiting the damage Haruto had sustained earlier in the night.
He grabbed Haruto by the neck and slammed him into the cage. The metal rattled as Haruto's back hit the iron bars.
Haruto coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, his body screaming in agony. Yet, his eyes never left Enji's. There was no fear in them—only determination.
Enji raised his fist for the final blow, his grin widening. "This is where it ends."