Vincent was satisfied for today. The concern over a hidden mystery running around in the back and killing people for whatever reason was fading away. It was only a means to get rid of the boredom through other means than combat.
His body is in tip-top condition. As expected, there're no injuries lingering from past conflicts to trip him up.
He returned home and greeted the working strangers. He asked is Ohta was back, but the only response he got was the shake of a head. He was still at work, meaning there was really nobody else to talk to.
He made himself a meal; the portions were sizable enough to fit dinner, yet the sun was still high up in the sky. That burning orb in the sky, however, had no bearing on Vincent's schedule. All that matters is his whims and sometimes the schedule of others. As long as it doesn't bother him too much at least.
He can afford to give that much. That's why he hasn't ran off from Ohta's employment despite all the breaks in between good fights. He's already been approached by different businessman for new deals, but he just ignored them. He put that worthless stuff out of his mind.
Just like he put the events of today outside of his mind. It really has nothing to do with him right now. He buried it deep within his consciousness and closed his eyes.
"They're strong," he whispered.
Vincent wasn't asleep. He wasn't even in bed. He stood in the center of his personal room, his body locked in a loose stance. There was only a single enemy to be fought alone here and that was himself.
He discarded many things in his life to reach his level of strength and he discarded even parts of that strength when he no longer needed that to match his foes. His brain atrophied from a lack of powerful opponents to test it; his skill declined without peers to bring out his best. If there was one thing that remained, it was the body he had.
That was the sole thing that would stay with him until the day he died.
Now, the right way to use it...the right way to move...
'Is there even a need to do this?'
To be perfectly honest, it's not necessary for himself. But he's not just doing this for himself. Out of respect for his opponent and out of respect for the opponents he's fought in the past, but even that's not quite right.
No, isn't he just doing this for himself still? No matter how he dresses it up, it's because of his emotions.
Muay Thai. No, it's Lethwei, but it's still similar enough. Maybe hearing that stoked a competitive flame within his chest.
"I don't want to lose."
It's not to test his own limits of mortality and to bring his body up against the border of death and past it to prove something.
Vincent's body minutely twitched.
His mind and heart are at conflict. He's in disorder. He wants to test himself and push himself, but he wants to win.
He's not unbeatable despite his body. He knows that better than anyone. His old arrogance was broken and beaten out of him, but he still clung onto his self-assured pride and certainty. The poise of The Survivor has never left him.
The disturbance within his heart gradual began to settle with the practice of martial arts. The skills he had and used when they were needed, the desperation pushing him to improve and learn from those who were better than him when there was no time to improve—they could not be recovered in a short amount of time.
What could be recovered was the determination of the past.
The goal hasn't changed. He'll take the best strikes from his opponent and overcome them head on to prove himself. He won't die no matter what. He'll survive and outlast everyone. He will be the one who stands tall in the end.
Old resolve was reinforced.
Vincent grinned, his eyes still closed.
'Heh, tai chi is some pretty pretentious stuff, but I can't really knock its effects.'
Slow movements along with quick muscle twitches and slowed abdominal breathing drawing Vincent's focus ever more inward gave him the solace he needed.
Will the battles in the Kengan Matches rival that of the battles he had in the past? He hopes so and believes that to be true. The Fang...he's crazy strong. Vincent won't be able to make him go all out in his current condition.
If he's going to bring out the best in him, Vincent will have to bring out his best. Only when they're both running at full throttle can he finally overcome the opponent with full satisfaction in his victory.
Hours of slow grueling practice. The exercise itself wasn't particularly of any high intensity, but the mental focus squeezed Vincent dry like one would squeeze a wet cloth.
Repeating stances and practicing movements over and over again until the cobwebs in his memory were cleared away and the fog in his brain was dispersed. The rust would be cleaned off the gears bit by bit.
Just like that, day turned into night.
"This should be enough for now." He let out a breath of air he held for five minutes. "I'm all smelly and sweaty now. I'll go shower and head to bed. There's a lot to look forward to tomorrow."
One more session of stretching to prevent stiffness and then he switched back to his steady lax mode.
He continued remaining lax up until the next day.
Vincent's eyes shot wide open in anticipation. The covers over his body were thrown off him and he rose into wakefulness at speeds that would make the him of yesterday horrified.
Vincent was ready for a satisfying battle.
And so was Yoroizuka Saw Paing.
To call him excited was a grave understatement.
A man coined with the epithet of The Howling Fighting Spirit could be no less than spirited for his upcoming match. His blood-pumping enthusiasm was so potent that the mayor of the Village of the Dawn surrendered to his desire of showing up early to the arena when people were just beginning to gather.
There was still many hours to go before the match officially began, but Saw Paing's fighting spirit drove him to make foolhardy decisions.
At least there was someone to reign him in after the fact.
The few viewers who came early were treated to the comedic sight of a fighter showing up far too for their match, then leaving, and then coming back later with a half-eaten lunch in his hands. A shorter, older man next to him was also holding a half-eaten lunch much to his consternation. Said employer also seemed to have a permanent frown on his face.
His exasperation could not be understated.
But neither could his faith in his fighter.
The Burmese man was the embodiment of fighting spirit.
'When will my opponent show up?! How does he fight?! He'll fight like a man of course!'
The idiot didn't even bother reviewing Vincent's previous matches, but that's just a part of what made him who he was.
Yoroizuka Sanemitsu sighed. He could only find solace in the fact that his fighter wasn't the most unreasonable man in the Kengan Matches. Despite his...excessive enthusiasm and loud voice, he could be rather reasonable.
Sometimes he wonders if all the head trauma in the past was to blame.
'Oh, who am I kidding. Of course that's to blame.'
Minutes turned into hours as more and more people began to file into the building, an old factory that hasn't seen official use in over seven years. Despite waiting for a couple of hours, Saw Paing's fighting spirit didn't wane in the slightest. His grin, a permanent fixture to his face, could outshine clear skies at noon.
His finely honed body spoke of many hours devoted to training. Patience, a word that looks anathema to the fighter at first glance, was something that was literally beaten into him at a young age. The patience to devote timeless effort to his way of life and combat.
The effort that has given him an undefeated record in the Kengan Matches.
He clenched both of his fists as he continued to wait for his opponent.
A car pulled into a filled parking lot. There was a five minute walk from the lot to the old factory. With Ohta's lack of physical fitness, five minutes could easily be stretched to eight. Two men walked side by side to Vincent's next match.
"Why don't you try turning that frown upside down? It's just an other match. I've gone undefeated myself, right?"
"Yes, but your opponent has been undefeated as well! His strength is different from those you've fought so far, I just know!"
"Don't worry, don't worry. Just leave it to me."
Repeated exchanges of one man worrying and the other reassuring him lasted through the car ride and even as they walked. It got so bad that Vincent was starting to just deliver stock phrases.
He was starting to get worried himself. The way Ohta was hyping up his opponent made it seem like he was fighting against Godzilla...er it's Gojira in this country he guesses.
"But—"
"Ah, quit your nagging already. I'm treating this match a bit differently from my previous ones. I guess you can say I'm taking it a bit more seriously."
Ohta finally let out a sigh of relief from that.
"That's all I wanted to hear."
Vincent turned his head, so the heavyset man wouldn't see his eyes roll. He kinda lied there, but he didn't really. He's always taking his fights seriously, but others might not see it that way.
'Still though, I'm super interested in my opponent now. Hong didn't get this much concern. My first fight's situation was desperate all around, but Ohta wasn't stressing over the power of the opponent. This type of concern would suit that Kure guy, but that was a surprise for the both of us.'
All of Vincent's thoughts faded away as he stepped into the building. The two men attracted attention. The increase in their fame led to more people recognizing them. Vincent due to his surprising endurance and his small streak of victories and Ohta due to the funny faces he makes while he watches his fighter.
Most people here recognized him.
Saw Paing didn't though. He didn't even pay attention to the newcomers. His eyes were staring straight ahead. Only the ref was in his peripheral.
He finally noticed a man exactly his height going through a body check.
'My opponent!'
The man waved the searchers off for just a moment before stripping his baggy jacket off with a smirk.
The crowd gasped. It was a change. They grew to understand this man as a fighter who concealed his body beneath baggy clothes, which also gave the aura of a devious fighter who concealed more than just his own body, but his tactics as well. Given the way he fights, there's a certain trickery to him that seemed to suit the way he dressed.
But that all changed. The atmosphere's different. It's more charged. The static in the air was born between the clashing gazes of the two fighters. Sparks could almost be seen in the space between their eyes.
'He really is getting more serious!' Ohta's thoughts were filled with a mixture of concern and hope. He could tell that Kenzo seemed to be testing his fighter and he was worried what would happen if he failed.
But with this change comes a greater chance that he succeeds.
Vincent stepped forward once his body check was done. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and loose pants. He revealed more of himself.
Scars riddled his arms. The origins of these wounds were many and varied. From punctures, from stabs, from cuts, from tears.
He regained more of himself.
He stood tall.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and analyzed his opponent right as the referee was beginning to call the match.
His tanned skin absorbed the evening sunlight breaking through the holes in the building. His muscles flexed every time he clenched his fists.
'Yeah, this guy's tough. Ohta was right to be worried.'
"You Saw Paing?"
"YAAAAAAAAAAH!!! That's right!!"
Vincent grinned at the thunderous volume threatening to rupture his eardrums. Saw Paing's grin was even wider. There was a difference between their smiling faces. A small, critical difference that would unveil itself in the match between these two individuals who possess an abnormal obstinance beyond many.
"Fighters, are you ready?" The referee posed his question once the time of battle began specifically on the dot. His glasses shone under the light.
"LETS GET THIS STARTED!!!"
"What he said."
"Take your stances!"
Saw Paing's forearms rose in front of his body, his tightened fists at eye level. His legs were positioned similarly to a front stance, but the bend at his knees were slightly deeper.
Vincent could've guessed from his personality, but this clinched it. He's gonna charge straight ahead.
He'll meet that charge head on.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and put them below chin level. Palms faced outward, one in front of the other, Vincent's knees slightly bent to prepare for impact.
The referee nodded and swung his arm down.
"Begin!"
"THE FIRST MOVE IS MINE!!!"
With a roar, the Burmese fighter dashed forward at max speed and recklessly threw out his fist with all of his power.
It met Vincent's forearm. His skin rippled from the impact of the hard fist crashing into it. The pain traveled all the way to the bone with the firmness of the fist outstripping even the Chinese fighter.
He needed to know exactly what kind of power he was dealing with, so he took it head on with his arm instead of head on with his body.
"Man that smarts. You'll have to try harder than that."
Saw Paing grinned wider and prepared to do exactly that.
'Ah damn, guess I'll be taking a bunch of blows to the body before this ends. Just how it should be!'
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